The Royal Decree

Chapter 4: The Royal Decree

The air in the village of Oakhaven, usually thick with the scent of baking bread and woodsmoke, now carried a different kind of tension. It was a hum of hushed voices, of worried glances exchanged over market stalls, and of the rhythmic, unsettling beat of a drum that had begun to sound from the distant capital. Anya, her hands dusted with flour as she helped Elara knead dough, felt it too. A prickle of unease that had nothing to do with the rising wind that threatened to scatter the laundry drying on the line.

“What is that noise, Elara?” she asked, her brow furrowed. The drumbeats, though faint, seemed to echo deep within her, a strange, resonant thrum that vibrated in her bones.