Prophecy spoke of such a day… but we were fools..fools who thought we were safe from fate, hiding under the sun. We thought that by living in the light, we could avoid the shadows that lurked within our own hearts. But the darkness has a way of finding its way, no matter how hard we try to hide.

The sun beat down on our village, casting long shadows across the dusty streets. We had lived in peace for so long, we had begun to forget the old stories, the prophecies that spoke of a time when the very fabric of our world would be torn apart.

I remember the day the strangers arrived, their faces shrouded in hooded cloaks, their eyes gleaming with an otherworldly intensity. They came on horseback, their mounts' hooves kicking up clouds of dust as they rode into the village square.

At first, we thought they were just travelers, seeking shelter and rest. But as they dismounted, their movements seemed almost... deliberate. Calculated. As if they were waiting for something, or someone.

The village elder, a wise and kind man named Arin, approached them cautiously. "What brings you to our village?" he asked, his voice firm but polite.

One of the strangers stepped forward, his eyes locking onto Arin's. "We have come for the boy," he said, his voice low and menacing. "The one born with the mark of the prophecy."

I felt a shiver run down my spine as I realized who they were talking about. The boy they spoke of was just a child, no more than ten winters old. He was a quiet, reserved child, always keeping to himself.

But as I looked into the eyes of the strangers, I knew that we were not safe. The prophecy had spoken of a day when the boy would be sought, when the very fate of our world would hang in the balance.

And now, it seemed, that day had finally arrived.