Liam awoke to the orange glow of dawn filtering through the shutters of his small window and the chorus of birds greeting the morning. The scent of baking bread lured him downstairs, where his mother stood over the hearth stirring a pot of porridge. She greeted him with a warm smile and a kiss on his head before shooing him to fetch his father.
Outside, Liam's father was already at work splitting firewood. The thock of the axe echoed in the crisp air as chickens clucked nearby. Liam scampered to help with the chores—refilling the chickens' water and gathering eggs still warm from the nest. His father watched with pride. "You're getting quicker at that," he chuckled. Liam grinned and puffed out his chest. "I'll be as strong as you soon!"
When the morning tasks were done, Liam's best friend Tomlin came running up the dirt path with two wooden practice swords in hand. The freckle-faced boy, a year older and taller, waved enthusiastically. "Finished with chores? Let's go!"
With his parents' good-natured permission, Liam hurried off with Tomlin. They darted through the village lanes, passing neighbors tending gardens and setting up market stalls. Everyone they passed greeted the boys kindly—Tharn's Hollow was the sort of place where everyone knew one another. Soon the boys reached their favorite spot: a grassy clearing at the edge of the woods, beside an old stone monument that rose from the earth like a silent guardian.
The weathered gray pillar was etched with faded runes, a remnant of some ancient past. To the villagers it was just another piece of the old ruins scattered around the area. To Liam and Tomlin, it marked their imaginary battlefield.
"En garde!" Tomlin cried, tossing a wooden sword to Liam. Their laughter rang out as they dueled around the standing stone. The wooden blades clacked, and sunlight danced through the trees as if joining in their play. For a blissful hour, Liam was a brave knight defending his village from make-believe ogres. He could almost hear the cheers of an imaginary crowd as he landed a dramatic finishing strike on Tomlin's sword.
Panting and exhilarated, the boys flopped onto the grass. Overhead, puffy white clouds drifted lazily. Tomlin propped himself up on his elbows. "One day I'll get a real sword," he said, eyes shining. "Maybe even earn an Essence from a monster I defeat, like my uncle did."
Liam's eyes widened. "Your uncle has an Essence? What is it?" Essences were the mystical powers humans could absorb from a defeated monster's spirit. Most folk in Tharn's Hollow had none—only tales of heroes who carried multiple Essences in their soul.
Tomlin grinned. "He absorbed the Essence of an Ember Fox. It keeps him warm in winter and lets him start campfires with a touch! Back when he was an adventurer, he fought lots of creatures. They say the greatest heroes can hold five Essences at once."
"Five…" Liam echoed, awestruck. He tried to imagine what it would feel like to hold so many powers. Perhaps one day, he thought, he might see an Essence for himself.
As the sun climbed higher, the friends decided to head back. Liam brushed his hand against the old monument's cool surface in passing. For an instant, he thought he felt a faint vibration in the stone, a low hum too quiet to be sure it was real. He paused and pressed his ear to it. The rock was silent now. Probably just my imagination, he mused, jogging to catch up with Tomlin.
Evening arrived gently. Over a cozy dinner of stew and fresh bread, Liam regaled his parents with an exaggerated account of the "goblin horde" he and Tomlin vanquished. His mother and father laughed and applauded his heroics, their faces lit by dancing candlelight. The warmth of home and family filled Liam with contentment—he felt there was no safer place in the world.
Before bed, he stepped outside one last time. The twin moons hung in the starry sky, one silver-full, the other a mere crescent. Night air whispered through the trees. Liam closed his eyes and made a small wish that these peaceful days would last forever, and that someday he might have a real adventure like the heroes in the stories.
With a final yawn, he crawled into bed. Within minutes he drifted into a deep, carefree sleep. He had no way of knowing that unseen forces were already stirring in the darkness beyond the village—ancient powers that would soon upend the tranquility of Tharn's Hollow.