The day after the tense village meeting had been a long one for Alph. After his morning run and a surprisingly insightful, if brief, interaction with Borin while setting snares, he'd spent the daylight hours buried in his scrolls. The atmosphere in Oakhaven remained subdued; Torsten had departed for Stoneford at first light, and the increased patrols by Borin and Elara were a constant, quiet reminder of the potential threat lurking in the southern woods. For Alph, each passing hour only amplified his own restless energy and the gnawing feeling of helplessness.
His books, once a reliable refuge, now felt like a frustrating collection of hints and allegories. They spoke of 'Professions' and 'Affinities,' of hidden potentials and bloodline gifts, but offered no clear map, no practical steps for a youth facing an imminent, life-altering ceremony with less than two weeks to prepare. He recalled Aunt Elara's earlier dismissal of "studying" for the Awakening – that it was about "what the mountain sees in you, what your spirit calls to." But how, Alph wondered with growing desperation, did one make their spirit call louder? How could he demonstrate anything beyond a bookish nature and an increasingly anxious mind to a mystical mountain?
As dusk began to settle, painting the snowy peaks in hues of orange and purple, Alph found himself needing to burn off the restless energy that had been building all day. He decided on another run, a rare second exertion for him. To his surprise, as he neared the familiar oak tree at the north field, he found Kael and Astrid already there, stamping their feet against the cold.
"Evening, Alph! Fancy another sprint?" Kael called out, a grin on his face. Astrid chimed in, "Heard you were out this morning too. Trying to outrun your thoughts?" Alph managed a small smile. "Something like that." "Well, you're not outrunning us this time," Kael declared, and with that, the two of them, Alph and Kael, with Astrid joining for a portion before peeling off towards her home, set off on a shorter, more companionable run along the village edge as dusk settled. The shared effort and Kael's easy banter did more to lift Alph's spirits than his solitary morning exertion. He felt a renewed determination; he wouldn't just wait for his destiny. He had to do something, anything, to prepare.
Still catching their breath and with the last vestiges of twilight painting the sky, Alph and Kael made their way to Old Man Hemlock's dwelling. They found Emil just inside the door, looking relieved to see them. With Elder Hemlock presumably still occupied with village matters or resting after the previous night's long meeting, only Emil and his much younger sister, a tiny girl with wide, curious eyes, were home. Emil led them to his room.
Stepping inside, Alph was struck by how different it felt from his own somewhat spartan quarters or the more practical, tool-strewn homes of Borin or Torsten. Emil's room, though small and simple like all Oakhaven dwellings, had an air of quiet order and a subtle, earthy scent. A neatly made bed sat against one wall, covered with a thick fur. Instead of hunting trophies or trading goods, the small wooden shelves held an assortment of interesting stones, dried herbs tied in bundles, a few carefully pressed leaves tucked into the pages of a single, thin scroll, and a small, intricately carved wooden bird that looked remarkably lifelike. His little sister, who couldn't have been more than six, was curled up on a woven mat in the corner, playing with a collection of smooth, grey river stones, occasionally glancing up at the older boys with shy curiosity.
Kael, ever restless, immediately started poking at some of Emil's more unusual looking dried plants, while Alph took a seat on a low wooden stool. He watched Emil's little sister for a moment before turning to the younger boy. "Emil," Alph began, keeping his voice low, "Astrid mentioned something yesterday… about your grandpa saying we need to be in 'top physical condition' for the Awakening. Do you know anything more about that? Why it's so important for the assessment?"
Emil, who was carefully arranging some of his stones on a small, flat piece of slate, looked up, his expression serious. "Grandpa doesn't really tell me the deep secrets of the ceremony, Alph. Just that it's… important for the mountain to see us clearly. But," he glanced towards the door, as if checking for eavesdroppers, then lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "he has a lot of old scrolls in his study. Really old ones. Maybe some of them talk about it? He's very particular about who goes in there, and I'm not usually allowed when he's not around, but sometimes... sometimes he forgets to latch the door properly when he steps out for a bit."
Kael, who had abandoned his inspection of Emil's dried herbs at the mention of "secret scrolls," perked up immediately. A familiar, mischievous glint sparked in his eyes, and he opened his mouth, no doubt to suggest some ill-advised scheme to "borrow" said scrolls. Alph, however, cut him off with a sharp look. "Not a word, Kael." He then turned to Emil, a serious expression on his face. "Emil, you stay here with your sister. And keep an eye on this one," he gestured towards Kael with a slight tilt of his head. "I'm just going to... check something in your grandfather's study. I'll be quick." Without waiting for a response, Alph slipped out of Emil's room and headed towards the elder druid's private study, his heart thumping with a mixture of apprehension and a desperate sort of hope.
The wooden door to Hemlock's study creaked softly as Alph pushed it inward. Just as Emil had hinted, the latch wasn't fully engaged. He slipped inside, pulling the door almost closed behind him, leaving only a sliver of an opening. The room was small, lit by a single, sputtering tallow candle on a cluttered wooden desk, its meager light casting long, dancing shadows that made the familiar objects within seem strange and imbued with secrets. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment, dried herbs, and something else – a faint, almost metallic tang that Alph couldn't quite place, mixed with the clean, sharp scent of wintergreen. It was the scent of practical remedies and accumulated learning, the workspace of a man deeply connected to the mountain's resources.
Moving with a caution born more from his Earth-life's respect for privacy than any real skill in stealth, Alph approached the cluttered wooden desk. His eyes scanned the surface, careful not to disturb the precise chaos of Hemlock's work. There were small clay pots containing various dried powders, a few tied bundles of herbs he didn't recognize, a well-used mortar and pestle, and several pieces of cured hide with notes scribbled on them in Hemlock's spidery script. He recognized recipes for poultices and salves, a list that looked suspiciously like a purchase order for grains and salt from Torsten's next trip, and notes on the moon cycles. Nothing that seemed to pertain to the deeper secrets of the Awakening Ceremony or the nature of 'Professions.' Disappointed but not entirely surprised, Alph let his gaze drift to a small, sturdy bookshelf tucked into a corner to the right of the desk.
The bookshelf held a modest collection of bound leather tomes and rolled scrolls, their spines mostly unmarked or bearing simple, utilitarian titles related to herbology, seasonal planting charts, and basic first aid for common mountain ailments. Outwardly, none of them screamed 'secret knowledge' or 'mysteries of the Awakening.' Alph mentally nodded, a flicker of his old professional skepticism surfacing. If he were trying to keep truly profound or sensitive information secure, he certainly wouldn't leave it sitting on an obvious bookshelf, no matter how trusted his community. The real secrets, if they existed here, would be better hidden.
His gaze swept over the shelf again, and this time, something did snag his attention. Wedged incongruously between a thick herbalist's guide and a slim volume detailing common mountain animal tracks was a particularly drab, unassuming ledger. Its spine, crudely inked, read: "Oakhaven Planting & Harvest Log – Years 50-75." The original Alph, the one enamored with grand historical sagas, likely would have bypassed such a mundane title without a second thought. But the current Alph, the lawyer accustomed to finding crucial details in the driest of documents, felt a distinct prickle of interest. It wasn't just the ledger's unassuming nature that seemed off; it was its solitary presence. Given Hemlock's many decades as Oakhaven's elder, why only this single, fourteen-year-old log detailing agricultural yields? Where were the logs for the subsequent years? This one, sitting out of chronological sequence and character amidst medicinal and tracking tomes, felt like a deliberate, if subtle, misdirection – exactly the kind of place one might hide something important in plain sight.
His heart giving a little thump of anticipation, Alph reached out and carefully eased the drab ledger from its tight spot on the shelf. It was heavier than it looked, its cover surprisingly stiff beneath his fingers. Before he could even attempt to open it, however, something thin and folded slipped from between its pages, fluttering silently to the packed earth floor.
Alph froze for a heartbeat, his ears straining for any sound from outside the study. Hearing nothing but the distant howl of the wind and the faint, muffled sounds of Kael trying to teach Emil's little sister some ridiculous hand-clapping game, he quickly stooped and picked up the fallen letter. It was a single sheet of parchment, yellowed with age and folded several times, the creases worn soft. His fingers, trembling slightly despite himself, carefully unfolded it. The script within was faded but still legible, written in a neat, precise hand he didn't immediately recognize. His eyes scanned the first few lines, and a profound stillness settled over him, the neat, faded script offering an entirely new lens through which to view his past. The words read: "...please, I'm really counting on you to look after my sister, Elara – she's only fourteen now, just a kid really, but bless her heart, she's stronger than she looks – and with her, my own infant son, Alph..."