Echoes of the Past

The wind howled through the abandoned village as David, Ivane, and Giorgi went up the uneven path. The village stood in a place outside of time, long abandoned. Vines crawled up crumbling stone houses, their windows shattered, roofs caved in from years of neglect. There was a smell of damp earth in the air, mixed with a faint odour of decay. It seemed to him that even the world had forgotten this village.

David pulled his cloak tightly around him, the coldness in the air seeming to penetrate deep into his bones. His eyes scanned the surroundings, every sense on edge. "It's strange," he muttered. "This place once was full of life. Now, it is just a shadow."

Ivane nodded to him as he walked, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "Many of the villages like this one were just left behind during the wars," he said. "People fled, and few returned. Hard to rebuild when the past still haunts the land."

Giorgi, never one to let the silence drag, attempted to lighten the mood. "You know, if we ever need a new base, this could work. A little cleaning up, some repairs, and—voilà—a fortress no one would think to attack."

David looked back at him, a faint pull of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Always think ahead, Giorgi. But this place feels... cursed."

"Cursed or forgotten," Ivane said, his tone a little more serious. "Places like this have stories. And those stories don't always rest."

As they went further into the village, the clatter of their boots echoed off the stones—the only sound in the macabre stillness that thickened the air as if something invisible watched them from the shadows.

David stopped in the middle of the village, near a great, twisted oak tree, its branches crooked and bare. He looked at the ancient tree, its roots veining out over the ground around it. "This village was part of our kingdom once," he whispered more to himself than to Eira. "I wonder what tales it could tell if it could talk."

Ivane came forward, his features contemplative. "Perhaps some stories should never be told."

David turned to him, his face taut. "No, we need to learn from every shadow, every forgotten place. The future of the kingdom needs us to understand its past."

Giorgi cast a dancing glance overhead, his countenance uneasy. "I'm all for history lessons, but this place gives me the creeps. Maybe it would be better for us to let the dead lie in peace and attend to the living instead.

A rustling sound on the far side of the village drew their attention. In an instant, hands were on hilts, and eyes were sharp. David gestured for silence, and they moved toward the sound in a slow, cautious manner.

As they drew near a fallen house, the figure of an elderly man emerged from the shadows, his back bent and his eyes wide with surprise at seeing them.

"Who's there?" David called, the tone of his voice firm and commanding.

The old man stumbled a few more steps forward, revealing his face, lined and worn by age. "I was beginning to think no one ever came back," the man rasped. "This place was never really forgotten."

David lowered his sword, though his body remained tense. "You've been here all this time?"

The old man nodded. His eyes clouded, a veil drawn across his face. "The village. It fell to ruin after the wars. But some of us. We never left. We're the echoes, the last of the ones who remember."

Ivane shot David a cautioning glance. "What is it you remember?"

The man's eyes settled onto the oak tree, and he spoke as if the weight of his words carried the weight of the years. "I remember when the king came through here, promising to restore the land. But promises… they get buried like the dead."

David's face went cold. "I am King David. And I intend to make good on those promises."

The old man squinted at him, as if trying to see the boy who had grown into a man. After a long moment, he nodded. "You have the look of him. The one they called the Builder. Maybe this time, the promises won't turn to dust."

Giorgi shifted uncomfortable. "Well, that's encouraging," he muttered under his breath.

He took a step forward with a clear voice. "This land will rise again, but that will take time, and the kingdom will be whole again."

The old man looked at him one moment longer before turning to shuffle back into the shadows of the ruined house. "I've heard kings say many things. Let's see if you can do better than the rest."

David watched him disappear, his mind racing with a vision of times to come—the weight of promises made well before he ascended the throne. He knew the way to restoration would be hard, but he was ready—stone by stone, village by village.

Ivane interrupted the silence. "We should be moving on, Your Majesty; much work awaits us."

David nodded, his gaze sticking to the ancient tree for a fraction of a second longer. "Yes. Let's go. There's no time to waste."

As they left the village behind, the wind picked up once more, carrying with it the faint echoes of times gone by and the weight of promises yet to be fulfilled.