EPISODE 1
THE MARK BENEATH THE FLOOR
Aren Vale woke to the sound of whispering beneath his floor.
At first, he thought it was the wind. Rain tapped against the window, and the old wooden house creaked as it often did during storms. But the whispering continued, faint and careful, as though someone were speaking from underneath his bed.
“Aren…”
His eyes opened fully.
He sat up and listened. The room was dark except for the pale flashes of lightning beyond the curtains. His blanket lay tangled around his legs, and his heart beat faster with every passing second.
The whisper came again.
“Aren…”
This time, it sounded like his mother.
He had not heard her voice in twelve years.
Aren reached for the lantern beside his bed and struck a match. The flame flickered, throwing restless shadows across the walls. Nothing moved. His door was closed, his window was locked, and the dusty wardrobe stood exactly where it had always stood.
He climbed out of bed.
The whispering stopped.
Aren held his breath. For a moment, there was only the sound of rain. Then a thin silver line appeared between two floorboards near the foot of his bed.
He knelt.
The light pulsed softly, almost like a heartbeat.
Aren touched the boards. They were warm. He searched along the edges until his fingers found a small gap. Taking the knife he kept beneath his pillow, he carefully pressed the blade into the c***k and lifted.
The board came loose with a quiet groan.
Beneath it was a narrow hollow space filled with dust. Inside lay a silver map folded into a small square and tied with black thread.
Aren stared at it.
He had lived in this room all his life. How had he never noticed the hidden space?
He reached inside and pulled out the map. The silver surface felt warm against his palm. Strange symbols covered it, but they would not remain still. Lines twisted and moved as if they were alive. Tiny rivers formed and disappeared. Mountains rose, then sank into darkness.
At the center was a symbol shaped like a crescent moon surrounded by flames.
The moment Aren touched it, the mark on his wrist burned.
He gasped and dropped the map.
A sharp pain shot up his arm. The mark, usually faint and gray, glowed silver beneath his skin.
Aren quickly pulled down his sleeve.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway.
“Aren?” his grandmother called. “Why are you awake?”
He grabbed the map and slipped it beneath his shirt just as the door opened.
Elara stood in the doorway with a candle in one hand. Her long gray hair was braided over one shoulder, and her face looked tired. She glanced at Aren, then at the loose floorboard.
The color drained from her cheeks.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she whispered, “You found it.”
Aren swallowed. “Found what?”
His grandmother stepped inside and closed the door behind her.
“Do not lie to me.”
He pulled the map from beneath his shirt. “What is this?”
Elara stared at it as though it were a living creature.
“That map was never supposed to awaken,” she said.
“What does it do?”
“It finds the door.”
“What door?”
Before Elara could answer, something howled outside.
The sound was deep and unnatural. It seemed to come from the forest beyond the village, yet the windows trembled as though the creature stood directly outside the house.
Aren moved toward the window.
Elara caught his arm. “Do not look.”
Another howl followed, closer this time.
Aren turned to her. “Grandmother, what is happening?”
Elara’s grip tightened.
“They have found you.”
“Who?”
The candle flame suddenly turned blue.
Behind the curtains, a tall black shape rose from the darkness. Two pale eyes appeared through the rain.
Aren froze.
Elara pulled him away from the window and whispered, “Listen carefully. Your parents did not abandon you. They were protecting you.”
Aren’s breath caught.
“What are you saying?”
The creature outside pressed one long hand against the glass.
A c***k spread across the window.
Elara rushed to a wooden chest beside the wardrobe and opened it. Inside were old clothes, a silver dagger, and a small leather pouch.
She threw the pouch to Aren.
“Take the map and run through the back door.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“You must.”
The window shattered.
Black smoke poured into the room, twisting into the shape of a tall, thin creature. Its fingers stretched toward Aren.
Elara raised the silver dagger.
A bright circle of light burst across the floor, forcing the creature backward.
“Go!” she shouted.
Aren clutched the map and ran.
As he reached the hallway, the silver lines on the map began to glow. A new symbol appeared on its surface.
It pointed toward the forest.
And beneath it, written in letters that had not been there before, were five words:
**Find the kingdom beneath the moon.**
