Ronan's feet moved on their own accord, though he wasn't sure why he kept walking. It wasn't out of curiosity or necessity—more out of a desire to just keep moving, to get away from the weight of the unanswered questions. The old man's cryptic words echoed in his mind, over and over, like an endless loop.
"You'll find out in due time."
What did that even mean? He couldn't shake the feeling that the answers he sought were just beyond his reach, like a puzzle with missing pieces. The world around him seemed perfect in its unnatural way, almost too pristine, as if it was all designed to keep him from discovering the truth.
He walked for hours, or at least it felt like hours. The landscape around him was too serene, the air too clean. There were no signs of life—no animals, no birds, no insects. Just an empty quiet, broken only by the rustling of the wind through the strange, tall grass. The world had an eerie sense of stillness to it. The further Ronan ventured, the more he felt the weight of something pressing in on him.
Eventually, he found himself in a small village—if it could even be called that. There were houses made of stone, tall and narrow, with intricate carvings along the doorways. The buildings had a timeless quality to them, like they'd been standing for centuries, yet there was no sign of anyone. The village was deserted, as though the people had simply vanished.
Ronan's footsteps echoed in the empty streets. He called out, but no one responded.
"Hello?" he asked hesitantly. His voice sounded strange in the stillness, too loud, too intrusive.
He ventured deeper into the village, his curiosity growing. There had to be someone around, didn't there? Someone who could explain this world. Someone who could explain why he was here.
As he turned a corner, he froze. There, standing in the center of the square, was a figure—a man, cloaked in shadows, his face obscured by a hood. He was tall, taller than anyone Ronan had seen so far, and he exuded an aura of something ancient and powerful.
Ronan took a step back instinctively. There was something about the man that felt wrong. A feeling of dread settled deep in his stomach, like the very air around him had become thick and suffocating.
The man didn't move at first. He just stood there, motionless, watching Ronan with piercing, unblinking eyes that seemed to see through him.
"What do you want?" Ronan asked, his voice tinged with unease. The man didn't answer immediately. Instead, he lifted a hand and beckoned Ronan closer.
Without thinking, Ronan found his feet moving of their own accord, drawn to the stranger. The closer he got, the heavier the air seemed to grow. It felt as though the weight of the entire world was pressing down on him, suffocating him in its grip.
"Do you know why you are here?" the man finally asked, his voice low and gravelly, like the sound of dry leaves scraping against stone.
Ronan shook his head, his heart pounding. "I don't know what's going on," he said, his voice shaking with frustration. "I was just brought here… I don't belong here."
The man's lips twitched into a faint smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "You do belong here," he said. "But that is not the question. The question is why."
Ronan felt his blood run cold. There was something about the way the man spoke that made him feel as though he was being weighed, measured.
The man stepped closer, and Ronan instinctively took a step back. "There are things in this world that should not be known. Secrets that are better left buried."
Ronan's mind raced. "Secrets? What are you talking about?"
The man's smile faded. "The world you've entered is not as peaceful as it seems. There are forces at play here, forces that would tear this world apart if left unchecked."
Ronan's confusion deepened. He didn't understand. What forces? What did the man mean?
"You're here for a reason, Ronan Winter," the man continued, his voice gaining a hint of urgency. "And you are not the only one. There are others like you—others brought here, from your world, from other places. You are not alone in this."
Ronan shook his head, his mind reeling with the implications of the man's words. "What do you mean? Others? Why me?"
The man's expression darkened. "The world is dying. It needs saving, but not all of its saviors are what they seem. There is a darkness here, one that has been waiting. Waiting for the right moment to rise again."
Ronan stepped back again, his breath catching in his throat. "What darkness? What are you saying?"
The man didn't answer immediately. Instead, he seemed to look around, as though checking for something—or someone. He stepped closer to Ronan, lowering his voice.
"There are things in the shadows, Ronan. Things you do not want to see. But you will. In time."
Ronan felt his blood run cold as a chill swept over him. He couldn't explain it, but there was something about the man's words that struck a deep chord within him. This place—this world—it wasn't just some peaceful, dreamlike realm. It was a place teetering on the brink of something terrible.
The man took a final step back and tilted his head. "There is a reason you were chosen. A reason you were borrowed." His smile returned, but this time it was colder, more knowing. "But it is not for you to understand, not yet. You'll learn soon enough."
With that, the man turned and walked away, his figure disappearing into the shadows of the village, leaving Ronan standing alone in the square, his mind spinning with questions. The world he had been thrown into felt even more alien now, like a ticking clock waiting to explode.
Ronan stood there for a long moment, trying to process everything. He had to find out more. There was too much at stake, and he couldn't afford to be kept in the dark. He needed answers—answers that would tell him why he was here, why he had been chosen, and what this darkness was that the man had spoken of.
But as he walked away from the village, heading deeper into the unknown, one thought stuck with him.
The shadows were watching.