Chapter 0:

A Ripple in the Still Water

The Chronos Ripple: Echoes of Eternity


Rain fell in fine threads, weaving a fragile curtain over the small town of Orencia. The cobblestone streets glistened, reflecting the dim amber light of streetlamps. Orencia had always been quiet, its history buried in folklore and forgotten ruins. But that night, something awakened in its shadows—something ancient and restless.

Arin Draven walked briskly, his hood pulled low to shield him from the rain. The damp air clung to him, mixing with the faint smell of moss and earth that always lingered in Orencia. His fingers clutched a small leather-bound book, the corners frayed with age. It was a peculiar find from his uncle’s antique shop, one that seemed to hum with an unspoken story. The book bore no title, only an embossed symbol on its cover: a circular ripple, etched in silver.

"A ripple begins with a single drop," Arin thought, recalling the words he had heard somewhere but couldn't place. A hollow feeling had taken root in his chest lately, a gnawing sensation that something in his life was missing—or perhaps waiting.

The bell above the door of "Echo Relics" jingled as Arin pushed it open. Warm air greeted him, carrying the comforting aroma of old paper and varnished wood. The shop felt more like a sanctuary than a place of business, cluttered with artifacts that whispered of other lives and other times.

His uncle, Malcolm Draven, stood behind the counter, examining a set of brass compasses. He was a man who wore his years with a rugged dignity. His sharp, gray eyes—always observant, always weighing—met Arin’s as he entered.

“You’re late,” Malcolm said without looking up, his tone gruff but not unkind.

“Blame the weather,” Arin replied, shaking off his hood and running a hand through his damp, dark hair. He placed the book on the counter with deliberate care. “Found this in the storeroom. Any idea what it is?”

Malcolm’s eyes narrowed as he picked up the book, his hands steady but his expression suddenly cautious. He ran his fingers over the embossed ripple. A shadow of recognition flickered across his face before he quickly masked it.

“Where exactly did you find this?” he asked, his tone unusually stern.

“In the old chest near the back,” Arin replied, tilting his head. “Is it valuable?”

Malcolm hesitated, his gaze lingering on the book as if it held a secret he wasn’t ready to share. “Valuable, yes. But also dangerous. This… this is something you shouldn’t meddle with, Arin.”

Arin frowned. His uncle had a flair for dramatics, but there was a weight to his words that unsettled him. “Dangerous? How?”

Before Malcolm could respond, the shop’s lights flickered. A low, resonant hum filled the air, emanating from the book. Arin stepped back, his pulse quickening.

“What the—”

The hum grew louder, and the ripple symbol began to glow faintly. Malcolm’s expression darkened. “Get out of here, Arin. Now.”

“What about you?”

“Just go!”

Reluctantly, Arin turned and dashed out into the rain. He didn’t stop until he reached the town’s central square. His breath came in short gasps, and his heart pounded in his ears. He looked back at the shop, its windows now dim. Whatever had just happened, it wasn’t normal.

Back in his apartment, a modest room overlooking the river, Arin couldn’t shake the image of the glowing book or the urgency in his uncle’s voice. He sat on the edge of his bed, the quiet hum of the rain outside his only company.

"Why now?" he thought. Life in Orencia had always felt like a series of unconnected days, strung together with no real direction. He had dreams once—to travel, to create, to matter—but those dreams had dulled with time. Yet tonight, something inside him stirred.

The clock struck midnight. The rain had eased, leaving behind a faint mist. As Arin stared out the window, his phone buzzed on the desk. It was a text from an unknown number:

"Do not open the book. They are watching."

A chill ran down his spine. He glanced at his bag, where he had hastily stuffed the book before leaving the shop. His fingers twitched, torn between fear and curiosity.

“They…?” he muttered to himself. His voice felt small in the room’s stillness.

Unable to resist, he retrieved the book and examined it under the dim light of his desk lamp. The pages were brittle, filled with intricate diagrams and symbols he couldn’t decipher. But one page stood out. It was blank except for a single sentence written in an elegant script:

"The ripple begins with a choice."

As he read the words, a wave of nausea swept over him, followed by an overwhelming sense of weightlessness. He tried to let go of the book, but his fingers wouldn’t obey. His vision blurred, and the room seemed to tilt.

When the dizziness subsided, Arin found himself standing in a forest unlike any he had seen before. The trees towered impossibly high, their leaves shimmering with a faint bioluminescence. The air was cool but carried a strange tension, as if the forest itself were alive and watchful.

“Welcome, Keeper,” a voice said behind him.

Arin spun around to see a woman clad in flowing robes that seemed to merge with the forest itself. Her eyes were an unsettling shade of gold, deep and ancient. Her features were sharp yet graceful, and she held a staff adorned with a crystal shaped like a ripple.

“Who are you?” Arin demanded, his voice cracking. “Where am I?”

The woman’s lips curved into a faint smile. “I am Serenya, a guide of sorts. And you, Arin Draven, are in the Echo Realm—a place where time and reality intertwine.”

Arin’s mind reeled. The damp forest floor beneath his feet, the cool breeze, the way her eyes seemed to pierce through him—everything felt too vivid to be a dream. Yet it couldn’t be real.

“Why am I here?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“Because you were chosen,” Serenya said, her tone soft but resolute. “The book is a conduit, a key to this realm. And you, Arin, are its Keeper.”

The hours that followed were a blur of revelations. Serenya explained that the Echo Realm mirrored reality but operated on different rules. Every action here created ripples that could alter the fabric of existence.

“The ripple symbolizes balance,” Serenya said as they walked through the forest. “But balance is fragile. Chaos—always encircling—threatens to tip the scales.”

“Why me?” Arin asked. “I’m no one special.”

“The book chooses its Keeper,” Serenya replied. “And it chose you.”

They reached a clearing where a still pond reflected the starless sky. Serenya gestured to the water. “This is the Heart of the Ripple. Look into it and see what lies ahead.”

Hesitant, Arin stepped forward and peered into the pond. The surface rippled, and images began to form—images of Orencia, his uncle, and a dark force spreading through the town. He saw himself at the center of it all, holding the glowing book.

When he pulled back, his hands were trembling. “What was that?”

“The future,” Serenya said gravely. “A future only you can shape.”

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