The Shattered Prophecy

Eryk didn’t know how long he stood there, surrounded by the silent half-horse beings, their eyes sharp and unreadable. The tension in the air was like a taut bowstring, humming with anticipation. No one spoke. No one moved. Even the forest around them seemed to hold its breath.

Then, without a word, the two who had led him into the village stepped forward again. One gestured toward a nearby structure—part hut, part stable, crafted from intricately woven wood and stone. The gesture was clear: go inside.

Eryk hesitated for a moment, his instincts flaring with resistance, but he knew better than to fight now. He could feel the strength in their bodies, the precision in their movement. These beings were warriors, and he was wounded, unarmed, and alone.

He entered the structure cautiously.

Inside, the air was cool and surprisingly comfortable. The walls were lined with soft furs, and a basin of water rested in one corner. There was no door—just heavy curtains made of woven vines and fabric. He was not bound, nor was there any obvious guard. And yet, he felt very much like a prisoner.

As he sat down, the pain in his shoulder flared again. The wound had slowed its bleeding, but it throbbed with every heartbeat. Eryk grit his teeth and tore a strip from his tunic, wrapping it tight. The arrow hadn’t hit bone, but it had gone deep. He needed rest. And answers.

Hours passed.

Eryk lay on his back, staring at the wooden ceiling above. His thoughts circled endlessly: Who are they? What do they want? Why not kill me—or speak? The waiting gnawed at him, made worse by the silence outside. He could hear faint voices now and then, muffled and rhythmic, but never loud, never frantic. It was as though the entire village spoke in whispers, if they spoke at all.

Night fell, and with it came the faint glow of the crystal lanterns outside. Their light spilled through the curtain, casting dancing patterns on the walls. Eryk sat up and looked toward the opening. A figure stood there—one of the half-horse beings. This one was taller, broader than the others, his mane braided with beads and feathers. His eyes glinted in the low light, but he made no move to enter.