Ch No.8.
Chapter 8: A Whisper in the Wind
The sun rose, but Errin felt no warmth. The vision clung to him like morning mist, seeping into his thoughts, unraveling the fragile certainty he had once held. He had come to the valley as an outsider, but what if he had merely returned?
Had he always belonged here?
The thought sent a shiver through him.
As he stepped outside, the village was already awake. The scent of baking bread drifted through the air, mingling with the distant murmur of voices. Farmers walked to their fields, and artisans shaped clay with practiced hands. Life in the valley continued unchanged, as if it had not whispered to him in the dark, as if it had not stirred something ancient within his bones.
But as he walked, he noticed the glances. Subtle, fleeting. The way the old men paused in their work as he passed. The way the elders exchanged unreadable looks. The way the storyteller sat at the edge of the village, waiting.
She met his gaze as he approached, eyes glinting with something between knowing and expectation.
"You saw something," she said, just as she had before.
Errin swallowed. "Not just something. Someone."
The storyteller exhaled slowly. "And did they call you by name?"
Errin hesitated. His name. His true name. Had the man in the vision spoken it? The memory was like sand slipping through his fingers—he could feel its weight but not hold it.
"No," he admitted. "But he knew me."
The storyteller nodded as if she had expected as much.
"The valley does not reveal everything at once," she said. "It shows you what you are ready to see. And you, Errin, are only at the beginning."
His fists clenched. "The beginning of what?"
The old woman smiled, not unkindly. "A return."
Errin's pulse quickened. "Return to what?"
She did not answer. Instead, she stood, brushing dust from her robes. "You will remember, in time. But tell me—when you stood before the man in your vision, how did you feel?"
Errin opened his mouth, then closed it. How had he felt? It was more than recognition, more than confusion.
He had felt like something unfinished. Like a sentence left incomplete.
Like a man with a name he had forgotten.
"I felt…" He struggled for the words. "Like I was supposed to know him."
The storyteller's eyes gleamed. "Then you are closer than you think."
Errin exhaled sharply. Every answer only unraveled into more questions. But one thing was clear—this valley, this life, this stillness he had accepted… it was no accident.
He had not just found the valley.
Somehow, it had been waiting for him.