The wind made a soft, rustling sound through the old beech trees, like many quiet voices talking at once. Anya stood at the edge of an open space in the woods, her feet touching the soft ground. The air felt like it was buzzing with a quiet energy that she could feel deep inside her. She closed her eyes and breathed in the smell of pine trees and wet earth, a familiar comforting smell in the middle of the Carpathian Mountains.
Anya was a healer, someone who could see things others couldn't, and a woman who felt a strong connection to the land. Her village, hidden in this quiet valley, was a safe place where old traditions were still alive, and the stories of the past could still be heard in the leaves and the flowing water. People there respected her, and both young and old came to her for her wisdom. Her hands could heal both their bodies and their spirits.
Today, the village was getting ready for the Samhain Festival, a time to honor those who had died, to celebrate the harvest, and to remember that the line between the living and the dead was thin. The air was filled with excitement mixed with the earthy smell of cooking herbs and the sweet smell of apple cider. Children ran around the colorful market stalls, their happy sounds echoing in the cool autumn air. Women with painted faces traded for handmade things, their voices making a gentle sound of talking and friendship. Men with strong hands gathered around crackling fires, sharing stories and laughing.
But Anya felt uneasy, even though everyone else was happy. A dark feeling was at the edge of her thoughts, a coldness that went into her heart even though the fires were warm. She had first felt it as a small worry when she was meditating that morning, like a flicker in the energy around the village. It had gotten stronger as the day went on, like a tight knot in her stomach and a quiet warning in the wind.
She opened her eyes and looked at the faces of her people. They were her family, connected by blood, traditions, and a shared history that went back many generations. She knew their feelings, their hopes, and their fears. But today, she felt strangely apart, as if something invisible had come between her and the familiar warmth of their connection.
Her eyes stopped on Elina, her best friend, someone she had trusted since they were children. Elina's laugh, usually bright and cheerful, sounded forced today, and her eyes looked worried in a way she was trying to hide. Anya watched Elina talking to a group of women, using her hands as she spoke, but her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.
Anya went over to her, feeling very alert. "Elina," she said, her voice soft but firm, "what's wrong, sister? I can feel that you're sad."
Elina jumped, her hand going to her chest. "Anya! I... I'm fine," she said quickly, her voice sounding a little too cheerful.
Anya reached out and gently touched Elina's arm. Suddenly, she saw images in her mind: a dark forest, a figure hidden in shadow, and a feeling of great fear. She pulled back quickly, unable to breathe for a moment.
"Elina," she said, her voice shaking a little, "I saw... I saw darkness. A shadow is falling on our village. What have you seen? What have you heard?"
Elina's attempt to stay calm broke down. Tears filled her eyes, and she led Anya away from the crowd, towards a quiet spot among some old oak trees.
"I... I didn't want to worry anyone," Elina whispered. "But last night... I had a dream. A terrible dream. The forest... it was alive, but twisted and evil. And there was someone there... tall, hidden in shadow... his eyes burned with a cold fire. He talked about... about a punishment. About something we would have to pay for."
Anya's heart beat fast in her chest. The images from Elina's dream were like the uneasy feeling she had had all day. This was more than just a bad dream. It was a warning, a sign that something bad was coming.
"And this morning," Elina continued, her voice filled with emotion, "old Marta, she found... she found one of the sheep. Dead. But it wasn't killed by an animal. Its blood... it was all gone. And there was a mark on its neck... a mark I've never seen before."
Anya's hand went to her own neck, feeling a sudden coldness there. She knew what that mark was. It was an old symbol, a sign of dark magic, a mark of the Draken.
The Draken. The name made her shiver with fear. They were an ancient group, creatures of darkness and shadow, who had been forced out of this world long ago. Stories said they were cruel, that they wanted power, and that they could twist the very nature of life. Anya had always thought of them as just stories, scary tales told to children. But the fear in Elina's eyes, the frightening images from her dream, the mark on the dead sheep... it all pointed to a terrifying truth. The Draken were not just a story. They were real. And they were coming.