Jack had never been one to dwell on suspicions. He preferred the tangible—the hunt, the tracks left behind, the scent on the wind that told him where his prey lay hidden. But over the past few weeks, Eldergrove had begun to feel less like the home he knew and more like a puzzle with pieces that refused to fit together. Little things nagged at him, like a thorn beneath his skin that he couldn’t quite pull out.

It was early morning when Jack found himself once again walking through the village. He had taken to these walks lately, needing a way to clear his head from the strange dreams that had plagued his sleep. They were chaotic, filled with images of past conflicts, Scourges rising and falling, and shadows that slithered across the land. They were unlike anything he’d ever experienced, leaving him drenched in sweat, gasping for breath in the dark.

He glanced around at the villagers. They were going about their routines, yet there was a subtle tension that hung in the air. People talked less, and when they did, their conversations seemed stilted, as if they were hiding something. Jack caught sight of the blacksmith, a usually cheerful man who now worked in silence, his brow furrowed with a worry he couldn’t seem to shake. Two farmers argued in hushed tones at the market, their faces twisted with frustration, but when they noticed Jack watching, they quickly broke off, exchanging uneasy glances.

Jack was still pondering these strange behaviors when he heard a familiar, jovial voice behind him.

"Well, well, if it isn’t the man of the hour, wandering about like a lost sheep!"

Jack turned to see Jones grinning widely, his bald head gleaming under the morning sun.  

“Morning, Jones,” Jack replied, managing a small smile. “You seem to be in a good mood.”

“When am I not?” Jones laughed, clapping Jack on the shoulder. “But you, my friend, look like you’ve seen a ghost. Don’t tell me the deer have started talking back to you out in those woods.”

Jack chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s nothing. Just… things feel off lately. Can’t quite put my finger on it.”

" Yeah, i know what you mean mate.”

“so you've started to see what I'm talking about, huh?”

“Of course I have! The villagers are acting strange, like there’s some invisible hand pushing them around. You see old Martha at the bakery? She’s been giving me the same loaf of bread every morning, but it’s as if she doesn’t even recognize me. And don’t get me started on the council; they’re arguing more than ever, about things that don’t make any sense.”

 “You think it’s connected?”

Jones’s grin faded slightly, and he nodded, his tone growing more serious. “I don’t know. But there’s something in the air, Jack. And I don’t like it.”

Jack had been hoping for reassurance, but hearing Jones’s agreement only deepened his worries. “I’ve been having strange dreams,” he admitted. “About the old Scourges, the wars… It’s like they’re trying to tell me something.”

Jones’s eyes flickered with interest. “Really? That’s not the sort of thing you can just ignore. Maybe you should have a word with Eamon.”

“I did,” Jack said, sighing. “He doesn’t know what to make of it. Keeps saying the signs aren’t clear.”

Jones was quiet for a moment, his playful demeanor slipping away entirely. “You ever wonder, Jack, if we’re looking for the wrong thing? Maybe whatever is coming… doesn’t want to be found.”

Jack didn’t answer. The thought had crossed his mind more than once, but hearing it out loud made it all the more troubling.

---

As the day wore on, Jack decided to pay a visit to the market, hoping the familiar bustle would distract him from his spiraling thoughts. But instead of the usual vibrant atmosphere, he was met with a scene that only heightened his sense of dread. Vendors who were once friendly rivals now glared at each other from across their stalls. The murmur of voices was punctuated by the occasional sharp exchange, and more than once, Jack saw hands balled into fists, ready to strike but held back by some unseen restraint.

“What’s going on here?” he muttered under his breath.

Just then, he spotted Justin standing near the edge of the market, observing the scene with a calm, almost detached expression. His dark brown eyes scanned the crowd, and for a moment, they met Jack’s. A slight smile tugged at Justin’s lips, but it was a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. It was subtle, almost unnoticeable, but Jack felt a chill run down his spine.

He approached Justin, trying to push down the unease. “Morning, Justin. You’ve been around the village a lot lately.”

“Ah, Jack,” Justin replied, his voice smooth and warm, like someone greeting an old friend. “I like to watch. See how people live, how they interact. It tells you a lot about a place, don’t you think?”

Jack nodded, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that Justin’s words held a deeper meaning. “You see anything interesting?”

Justin’s smile grew a fraction wider. “Oh, many things. Fear, anger, uncertainty… It’s all very fascinating.”

 “You sound like you enjoy it.”

“Not at all, I simply observe. People are complex, Jack. Sometimes, they don’t even know what they’re feeling until someone else points it out to them.”

The conversation felt like a dance, and Jack wasn’t sure of the steps. He decided to change the subject. “You hear about the unrest spreading to the neighboring villages?”

“Yes,” Justin replied, his eyes darkening slightly. “A shame, really. But perhaps necessary.”

Jack blinked. “Necessary? How?”

Justin shrugged. “Sometimes, conflict is the only way to bring about change. It forces people to confront truths they would rather avoid.”

Jack wanted to press further, to challenge Justin’s calm, almost philosophical approach to the chaos, but something in Justin’s gaze stopped him. It was as if he was daring Jack to push, to question, and Jack wasn’t sure he wanted to see where that path led.

“Well,” Jack said finally, forcing a smile. “Let’s hope things settle down soon. Eldergrove could use some peace.”

Justin’s smile remained, but his eyes seemed to glint with something Jack couldn’t place. “Peace is a curious thing, Jack. So fragile… so easy to break.”

---

That evening, Jack met with Eamon in the small room they had come to use as a sort of informal headquarters. The old sage was pacing, his expression trouble.

“I spoke with the council,” Eamon said as Jack entered. “They’re at their wits' end. Disputes over land, resources… it’s all getting worse.”

“I don’t understand it, It’s like the village is tearing itself apart.” Jack said with a hint of frustration in his voice.

Eamon nodded, but his expression was distant, as if he was looking at something far beyond the room they were in. “I’m starting to think there’s something at work here, something subtle… insidious. But I can’t see it. Every time I try to focus, it slips away.”

Jack thought back to his conversation with Justin, to the way he had spoken about conflict and change. “Do you think someone could be stirring things up? Someone who wants to see the village… fall apart?”

Eamon glanced at him sharply. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know, Just a feeling. Like there’s someone pulling the strings, but I can’t figure out who.”

Eamon sighed, running a hand through his graying hair. “I wish I could give you answers, Jack. But right now, all I have are questions.”

Jack left the room, feeling the weight of those unanswered questions pressing down on him. As he stepped out into the cool night air, he looked back at the village, where shadows seemed to stretch longer and the silence felt heavier. 

Jones caught up with him at the tavern, with a pint in hand. "The more I see, Jack," he said, his voice unusually somber, "the more I think there's something no one wants us to find out." Jack nodded, his heart heavy. Somewhere in the village, an unseen force was at play—one that was watching, waiting, ready to let everything collapse at the right moment.