The Oathbearer's Legacy

Kaelin always liked the stillness of the woods. The rhythm of the wind moving through the trees, the soft crackle of dry leaves underfoot, the sharp snap of twigs.

He had grown up listening to those sounds and learned how to read them as easily as other men read books. It told him where to find the deer that wandered the forest edge, the stream where fish darted beneath the surface, and the paths that no one else had walked for years.

He wasn't a man who asked for much. A sharp axe, a good bow, and enough sunlight to carry him through his work. That was the simple life Kaelin had always wanted.

But lately, even in the calm of the forest, there had been a stirring. It wasn't the wind or the movement of the animals that bothered him-it was something quieter, something he couldn't name. A feeling.

Today, as he trudged deeper into the woods with his axe slung over his shoulder, the familiar sounds seemed distant. The forest was holding its breath, waiting for something.

He paused beside a large oak, its gnarled roots stretching out like fingers across the forest floor. His hand brushed the bark, rough and cool beneath his fingers.

It was an old habihabit of touching trees like this, reminding himself that they were real, that he was still grounded. Kaelin inhaled the scent of damp earth and moss. This was his world. It had always been enough.

But today, it felt small.

He shook off the thought, adjusted the weight of the axe, and continued his steady pace toward the northern ridge. The ridge was his favorite place to cut wood. The trees were older, and taller, with trunks wide enough that it took three swings to fall one.

He liked the way the sunlight filtered through the canopy there, dappling the ground in shifting patterns of light and shadow.

The northern ridge was also far from the village. And that was the real reason Kaelin liked it. He wasn't much for village life, though he still went when he had to.

It was a quiet, hardworking place, the people simple and content. But there were always eyes on him when he walked through, murmured words about his strange ways, how he kept to the woods for days at a time, never quite fitting in with the others.

They called him "the woodsman" like it was a title, but Kaelin always knew it was more of a way to keep him at arm's length.

His father used to tell him it didn't matter what others thought, but even as a child, Kaelin had seen the distance, the looks of quiet judgment that followed his family. His father had been a strange man, too-living by his own rules, working with his hands, far away from the politics and gossip of village life.

When his parents passed, Kaelin simply continued the life they had shown him. It was easier to be alone in the woods than try to change himself for people who would never understand him.

As the trees thinned out, revealing the ridge ahead, Kaelin could already see the broad trunks of the old pines he'd come for. He set down his pack and ran his fingers along the handle of his axe, feeling the familiar grooves worn into the wood over years of use.

The work would keep his mind steady, and drown out whatever unease had settled into his chest that morning.

He stepped toward the first tree, sizing it up. But before he could raise the axe, something caught his eye.

There, nestled between the roots of an ancient pine, was a glint of metal.

Kaelin froze, frowning as he crouched beside the tree. At first, he thought it might be a discarded tool or perhaps an old hunter's trap, but as he brushed away the dirt and moss, a strange symbol etched into the metal came into view. His heart gave a hard, sudden thud against his ribs.

The symbol wasn't anything Kaelin recognized from the village or the woods. It was intricate, almost ceremonial, with sharp lines weaving in and out of circular patterns. It looked like an old relic, forgotten and left to rot. The kind of thing you'd hear about in fireside stories, not find buried beneath a tree on the northern ridge.

Instinct told him to leave it. Kaelin had heard enough tales from the village elders about relics like these-old magic, they called it. Dangerous things are best left undisturbed.

But something else inside him stirred, stronger than the unease. It felt like a pull, gentle but insistent, drawing him toward the object. He hesitated only a moment longer before his fingers closed around the cool, smooth metal.

The moment he touched it, a jolt shot through his body. Kaelin gasped, stumbling back, dropping the relic to the ground. His hand throbbed with a strange warmth, and when he looked down, he saw a mark glowing faintly on his palm.

A symbol, eerily similar to the one etched on the relic.

A wave of dizziness hit him, and Kaelin gripped the edge of the tree to steady himself. His mind raced, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Magic.

There was no other explanation. But the magic was supposed to be long nothing more than stories passed down to keep children from wandering too far into the woods.

Before he could think further, a voice echoed in his head-low and ancient, as if it had been waiting for centuries to speak again.

"The Seeker of Oaths returns."

Kaelin jerked back, looking around wildly, but there was no one else in the clearing. The voice, though, was clear-too clear to be imagined. It reverberated through his skull, sending chills down his spine.

He glanced at the relic again, and despite his instinct screaming at him to walk away, he couldn't ignore the sensation in his the pull that had been with him all morning, growing stronger now, almost urgent.

This was no ordinary find. And it seemed that Kaelin's quiet life was about to change in ways he couldn't yet understand.

The sun had started its descent by the time Kaelin stood again, his breath steady but his thoughts a whirlwind. The mark on his palm had faded, but the unease remained, gnawing at him as he packed up his tools and shouldered his bag.

For the first time in years, the woods no longer felt like home.

Kaelin's hands trembled as he tightened the strap on his pack. The weight of the axe, usually familiar and comforting, now felt alien against his back. He glanced again at his palm, where the faint glow had disappeared, leaving only his skin rough and calloused from years of working with wood and iron. But something had shifted. Even though the mark was gone, he could still feel the lingering warmth beneath his skin, like embers of a fire waiting to catch.

He looked toward the spot where the relic had fallen, lying half-buried in the dirt. The symbol etched on its surface still shimmered in the fading light, as if it were alive. For a long moment, Kaelin just stared at it, fighting the urge to pick it up again, to see if that strange warmth would return, or if the voice would speak to him once more.

"The Seeker of Oaths returns."

The words echoed in his mind, haunting in their clarity. He shook his head and ran a hand through his dark hair, which was damp with sweat. This wasn't real. It couldn't be. Kaelin had never believed in magic. The old stories were just those stories. Warnings told to children to keep them from wandering too far from the village. But here he was, standing in a clearing with a relic that had branded his palm and spoken in a voice that sounded like it came from the bones of the earth.

He needed to leave.

Kaelin took a step back, then another. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat loud and frantic in the silence of the forest. But no matter how many steps he took, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching him, waiting for him to make a choice. He wasn't sure if the feeling came from the relic, the trees, or something deeper-something older.

He reached the tree line, turning his back on the ridge and its secrets. He would go home, and pretend none of this had happened. There was no sense in getting involved with magic and relics.

Whatever this was, it was bigger than him. Kaelin had always been good at knowing when to walk away. But as he took another step toward the path home, his feet felt heavy, rooted to the ground by something unseen.

A gust of wind rustled the leaves above him, and for a moment, the air seemed to hum with energy. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but Kaelin felt it crawl over his skin, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. The forest no longer felt like the familiar, peaceful haven it had been all his life. Now, it seemed to breathe with a life of its own, watching him with unseen eyes.

Don't leave.

The thought entered his mind before he could stop it. Kaelin gritted his teeth, trying to force it away. But there it was again, that pull-gentle but insistent, like a thread wrapped around his heart, tugging him back toward the relic. He didn't understand why, but something inside him was telling him that leaving wasn't the right choice.

He turned slowly, glancing over his shoulder at the clearing. The relic lay there, innocuous and silent now, half-covered by earth and roots. It didn't glow, didn't whisper, didn't beckon. But it didn't need to. The mark on his hand had faded, but the connection had already been made.

With a heavy sigh, Kaelin slung his pack back over his shoulder and trudged toward the relic once more. His feet felt lighter now as if some part of him had already known he would return.

The closer he got, the more he felt the pull strengthen, a strange magnetism that was impossible to ignore. His eyes locked on the symbol, and despite the unease roiling in his gut, he knelt beside it.

The metal was cool to the touch as he brushed more dirt away, revealing the full shape of the relic. It wasn't large-no bigger than his hand, it was intricately designed.

The circular symbol was at its center, surrounded by lines that branched out like veins. Kaelin squinted at it, wondering what kind of tool or weapon it might have been. But no matter how long he stared, he couldn't guess its purpose.

Gritting his teeth, he gingerly picked it up again, half-expecting another jolt of energy. But this time, nothing happened. The relic lay still and cold in his hand, the symbol etched into its surface as lifeless as any other forgotten piece of metal.

Kaelin's shoulders sagged with relief, but the questions only multiplied. Why had it branded him? What did the voice mean by calling him the Seeker of Oaths? His mind raced, searching for answers, but came up empty.

He turned the relic over in his hand, inspecting every inch of it. On the underside, something caught his eye-a small inscription, barely visible in the fading light. He leaned closer, squinting to make out the tiny letters.

"Bound by blood, bound by word, bound by fate."

Kaelin frowned, reading the words again. Bound by blood? What blood? He hadn't seen any traces of it. Bound by word? The voice had said something about oaths, but Kaelin had never made one. Not any that mattered, at least.

A sudden chill crept up his spine, and Kaelin's gaze snapped to the tree line. The wind had picked up, rustling the leaves with a low, eerie sound. His instincts screamed at him to move, but his feet remained rooted to the ground, just as they had before.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw something move between the trees.

Kaelin's breath hitched. His eyes scanned the shadows, his heart hammering in his chest. The figure was faint, just a blur of motion between the thick trunks. But it was enough. He wasn't alone out here.

He slipped the relic into his pack, his fingers moving faster than his thoughts. The axe was in his hands before he even registered drawing it, the familiar weight of the handle calming his nerves, if only slightly.

"Who's there?" Kaelin's voice came out harsher than he intended, cracking through the silence. He hated how it sounded like a man on the verge of panic. He swallowed, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

For a moment, there was no response to the steady rustle of the wind and the distant call of a bird. But then, from the shadows, came a voice. Soft, almost amused.

"You're a curious one, aren't you?"

Kaelin's blood ran cold. He stepped back, his grip tightening on the axe. The figure stepped into the light, revealing a tall, hooded stranger, their face obscured by shadow. There was something off about them, something unnatural. Kaelin could feel it in the pit of his stomach.

The figure cocked its head, watching him with an intensity that made Kaelin's skin crawl. "Not many would dare touch an oath relic."

Kaelin's mind raced, trying to make sense of the situation. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice steady despite the fear gnawing at his insides.

The stranger smiled, though it didn't reach their eyes. "What's owed," they said simply. "And you've just taken the first step, woodsman."

Kaelin's heart pounded in his ears as the figure's words sunk in. His world quiet life he had known for so long been shattered in an instant. And whatever this stranger wanted, it was clear that his path would never lead him back to the peace of the woods.