Chapter 4 Relics of the Past

Elowen's steps took her beyond the familiar boulevards of Nocturnis, into a forgotten quarter where time no longer held dominion. Here, the city didn't bustle or breathe. It remembered. Ancient stone watched in silence as ivy clawed across windows long boarded shut. Facades that once gleamed with opulence were now hollow shells, flaking gold and secrets with every gust of wind.

The deeper she went, the louder the silence became.

These streets were abandoned, but not empty. There was a presence here, buried deep beneath the dust and decay. It watched her without eyes, whispered without sound. Her skin prickled with the same sensation she'd felt since the elemental spark chose her: as if fate had begun stitching the edges of her soul into something much older than her body.

She passed under a rusted archway, half-collapsed and heavy with vines, until a narrow corridor of crumbling brickwork brought her to a door, hidden from the world, but glowing with quiet authority.

Wood darkened by centuries of rain and time stood sealed with carvings so intricate they pulsed faintly under her gaze. Mythical creatures twisted among elemental glyphs, flame licking water, earth swallowing sky. The magic embedded in the craftsmanship wasn't just decorative. It was alive.

Drawn by something she couldn't name, Elowen reached for the handle.

The door opened with a reluctant groan.

Inside was stillness. Dust floated like spirits through the narrow beams of light filtering through stained glass windows. Shelves lined the walls, books bound in cracked leather, scrolls sealed with wax sigils, crystal vials containing long-settled liquids of strange hues. A forgotten sanctuary. Nocturnis's hidden lung.

At the center stood a low pedestal. Upon it rested a box of ancient design, aged wood wrapped in tarnished silver filigree, humming softly, as though it had waited for her alone.

Elowen stepped forward, her breath catching.

She didn't hesitate. Her fingers found the lid.

The moment the box opened, magic bloomed, soft and golden, and laced with a tension so old it felt sacred.

Nestled in the velvet interior was a single amulet.

It was beautiful, no, haunting. Interlocking symbols of fire, water, air, and earth spiraled toward a center stone that shimmered with no single color but all of them at once. It was light and shadow. Calm and storm. A relic forged from harmony.

As her hand touched it, the world splintered.

Flashes invaded her mind:

A volcano erupting into mist.

A city drowned beneath tidal waves, yet unbroken.

A field of warriors etched with glowing tattoos, standing unbending against winds that could split mountains.

And a name spoken, not aloud, but deep within her: Elowen of the Hollow Flame.

The visions vanished.

Elowen collapsed to her knees, the amulet clutched to her chest.

It had chosen her.

This wasn't an inheritance. It was a summons.

Her heart thundered. Her breathing slowed. There was more to this relic than prophecy, it was a key, a map, a weapon. It didn't just whisper of the past. It warned of what came next.

And she wasn't alone.

Not anymore.

A cold prickling raced up her spine. She stilled.

Somewhere, just beyond the edge of her perception, there was movement. A shift in the silence. The air held its breath.

Her fingers slid the amulet into the inside pocket of her cloak. Every hair on her body stood upright as she rose.

She retraced her steps through the chamber and out the ancient door, closing it behind her.

The air outside was thicker now. Off.

She took two steps down the alley, then paused.

There it was again.

A whisper of breath not hers. A footfall that didn't match her own.

Elowen didn't turn around.

She walked steadily, each pace measured. Each breath is controlled.

She could feel it.

Someone, something, was tracking her.

And they were close.

She ducked under a fallen stone beam, turning down an alley she hadn't used before. Her boots barely whispered against the stones as she slid behind a vine-covered archway and pressed her back against the wall.

The shadows held.

And then... a shape moved across the mouth of the alley. Slow. Tall. Deliberate.

Cloaked.

She held her breath.

It moved again. This time, closer. Hooded. Gliding more than walking.

Her spark trail. She hadn't masked it. The amulet must have ignited her elemental signature. And they'd found her.

Sentinels of the Bound Moon.

The secret keepers of the magical order long thought extinct, swore to preserve balance... at any cost.

Another figure joined the first. Two.

She'd been tracked.

One of them turned sharply, pausing. As though sensing her heartbeat through the bricks.

Elowen didn't wait.

She twisted away from the wall and darted across the courtyard, cutting through an abandoned atrium. Vines tore at her cloak. She heard a voice behind her, low and layered with something not human.

"Elowen of the Hollow Flame. You should not have touched it."

She turned mid-run, eyes glowing faintly with residual magic. "Then you shouldn't have left it unguarded."

She sprinted down the narrow path, her mind racing. How much did they know? Had they followed her since the flame? Since the elemental orb?

A hand grazed the back of her cloak. She spun, dagger drawn, steel whispering into the air.

One of the Sentinels lunged.

But Elowen moved with the precision of someone touched by fate. She ducked, swept low, and struck, not to kill, but to break the contact. The blade met cloth and shattered light. The figure staggered backward, groaning like stone bending under pressure.

She didn't stay to watch.

She vanished into the maze of forgotten alleys.

By the time she reached the outer curve of Nocturnis, the street lights had dimmed and the rooftops loomed like watchers in the dark.

She turned one last time.

Silence.

They were gone.

For now.

But the message had been clear.

The amulet was no longer hers alone. Her spark had drawn attention. And some intended to put it out before it grew into flame.

⸻

Back in her sanctuary, Elowen sealed the door behind her, fingers trembling as she lit a single candle. She pulled the amulet from her cloak and laid it gently on the table.

It shimmered faintly, as though pleased.

"You're trouble," she whispered to it.

But her voice carried something else, too.

Resolve.

The city had shifted. The stakes had changed.

And now, the Sentinels were watching.

But so was the magic.

And the fire inside her had only just begun to rise.

She would need to move carefully. Learn fast. Forge alliances, or burn alone.

Because whatever this relic had awakened... it wasn't done with her yet.

Not by a long shot.