The midnight pages

The journey back to Eldenrest was fraught with tension. The forest, usually a place of solace for Arin, now felt heavy with unseen eyes. Every rustle of leaves or snap of a twig set his nerves on edge. The stranger's words echoed in his mind, stirring doubt and unease.

"Every choice has consequences. Even the right ones."

As the village came into view, its familiar outline nestled against the mountains, Arin quickened his pace. He had no time to waste. The vision from the river made it clear: the dam upstream would soon fail, and countless lives would be at risk.

But how could he convince the villagers? They were set in their ways, distrustful of anything that disrupted their quiet lives. The elders especially would dismiss him as a child with fanciful tales.

"Tilly!" Arin called as he entered the village, spotting his playful goat trotting toward him. She nuzzled his leg affectionately, but Arin barely noticed. His mind raced as he headed straight for the central square, where the elders often gathered.

The square was bustling with activity. Merchants hawked their wares, children darted between stalls, and villagers chatted in the golden light of the late afternoon. Arin pushed through the crowd, clutching the book tightly.

He found Elder Miran, the village's wisest and most respected figure, sitting under the shade of the great oak tree. Her sharp eyes followed Arin's approach, her expression calm but curious.

"Arin," she greeted him, her voice steady. "You seem troubled."

"Elder Miran, I need to speak with you. It's urgent," Arin said, his voice trembling with urgency.

The elder raised an eyebrow but gestured for him to continue. Others in the square began to gather, drawn by the boy's intensity.

"There's a dam upstream," Arin began, holding up the book. "It's going to break. I saw it. If we don't act now, the flood will destroy the neighboring town—and maybe even reach us."

Miran's gaze shifted to the book, her eyes narrowing. "Saw it? In that... object you carry?"

"Yes," Arin said. "This book—it shows me things. Things that are about to happen. I know it sounds impossible, but you have to believe me."

A murmur spread through the crowd, a mixture of skepticism and curiosity. Some villagers whispered among themselves, while others shook their heads.

"Arin," Miran said carefully, "you're a bright boy, but you must understand how difficult this is to believe. A book that tells the future? Such things belong in stories, not reality."

"It's real!" Arin insisted, opening the book to the latest page. But to his horror, it was blank. The words that had described the dam's collapse were gone, replaced by the familiar emptiness that preceded each new revelation.

"No, no," he whispered, frantically flipping through the pages. "It was here! I saw it!"

The crowd's murmurs grew louder. Someone chuckled, and another muttered, "Just a boy's imagination."

Miran sighed. "Arin, perhaps you should rest. The forest can play tricks on the mind, especially when one ventures too far."

Frustration boiled within Arin. He wanted to shout, to make them understand, but their expressions—kind yet dismissive—made it clear they wouldn't listen.

As the crowd began to disperse, Arin felt a gentle tug at his sleeve. He turned to see Lila, a girl his age with sharp eyes and a mischievous smile. She had always been curious about Arin's adventures, often following him on his woodland escapades.

"I believe you," Lila said softly.

Arin blinked. "You do?"

She nodded. "I've seen that book before—last night, in the forest. It glowed like you said. I didn't know what it was, but I knew it was special."

Relief washed over Arin, but it was short-lived. "Then you understand. We have to warn the town about the dam."

Lila frowned. "But how? The elders won't listen, and the town is too far to reach on foot before nightfall."

Arin thought for a moment, his mind racing. The river. It was the fastest way to reach the neighboring town, but it was also dangerous. The currents were strong, and navigating them would require both courage and skill.

"We'll take the river," he said finally.

Lila's eyes widened. "The river? Are you crazy? You could drown!"

"It's the only way," Arin said firmly. "If we don't warn them, people will die. I can't let that happen."

Lila hesitated, then nodded. "Alright. If you're going, I'm coming with you."

The two of them quickly prepared for the journey. They gathered supplies—a makeshift raft, ropes, and a lantern for light. Tilly bleated in protest as they pushed off from the riverbank, but Arin stroked her head reassuringly.

"Stay here, girl. I'll be back."

The raft wobbled as they stepped onto it, the river's silent current carrying them swiftly downstream. Arin and Lila worked together, using long poles to steer around obstacles. The forest seemed to close in around them, the shadows deepening as twilight fell.

The journey was treacherous, the river's silence amplifying every creak of the raft and every splash of water. But Arin's resolve burned brighter than his fear.

As the lights of the neighboring town appeared in the distance, Arin felt a surge of hope. They were almost there. He gripped the book tightly, silently praying that they would arrive in time.

The Midnight Pages had entrusted him with this mission, and he would see it through—no matter the cost.

---