You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? she begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.”
Aelarion relaxes and begins speaking, “My story is one of lost paths and hidden destinies.” The hag leans over him, her twisted fingers drawing invisible symbols in the air.
“I was born under a full moon,” Aelarion continues, “in a village situated amidst the gnarled trunks of ancient oaks. My parents were noble people who took care of impoverished and murmured about forgotten myths. Yet my heart longed for more –” He look at the candles; their flames are like restless spirits.
“There was no moon that night,” Aelarion says, “when a golden-haired stranger came. His eyes contained the universe and he spoke of worlds beyond the veil. He gave me an option: remain mundane or seek out hidden threads of fate.” The hag’s stare seems to intensify as if she knows how heavy this decision would be.
“I preferred to follow stars,” he admits. “I strayed through forests wrapped in fog, met spirits and danced with darkness. I searched for lost books and whispered secrets into the breeze.”
The hag leans back, her eyes half-closed. “And now,” she says, “you stand here, in this dim town, where the veil between worlds is thin.” Her voice carries a hint of prophecy. “Tell me, wanderer, what do you seek? What secrets lie hidden within your bones?”
Aelarion hesitates, then lean closer. “I seek answers and adventure,” I reply. “Answers to questions unasked, and someone to guide me through the world."
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