The whispers came from every house in the eastern street.
"The promise must be remembered."
John stood in the middle of the road, watching the villagers emerge from their homes. Some looked frightened, others confused, and a few seemed to be speaking without realizing it. An old woman stood in her doorway with one hand pressed against her chest, repeating the same words under her breath.
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the whispering stopped.
The village fell silent.
Darius slowly lowered the bread he had been holding.
"I have a question."
"Now?" Aerion asked, keeping his eyes on the street.
"Yes, now. Why is it that every time we arrive somewhere peaceful, something ancient starts waking up beneath it?"
"Perhaps you should stop traveling with us," Lythriel said.
"I've considered that. Unfortunately, I suspect the ancient things would follow me out of spite."
Under different circumstances, John might have laughed. Instead, he was studying the people around them.
