A thick mist had settled over the musty rooftops of Calvert Creek village. The days before had been hot and humid, and the thick raindrops that bounced off the dirt paths gave way to steam almost instantly. It was a blessing in a way, to have such a heavy downpour in the midst of summer when the crops so desperately needed it, but now there was a slight fear that perhaps they'd get to much rain, drowning them out and making them useless once more. Flooding was always a big issue, being nestled in a valley stuck in the middle of large mountains, but the adjacent creeks on either side usually did a pretty decent job of draining excess water. Flooded crops were about the most of the villages worry in Calvert Creek, making life there all and all decently peaceful. They had hardships in winter, worried about running out of food and the risk of disease spreading rampant but the new cultivating systems that had been worked on over the years have made providing for the people quite efficient, even in the cold depths of winter. As with most villages of that time, nestled comfortably in the center was a great church who's peak stood high above all the other buildings, it's shadow casting a powerful calm over those who walked its path, letting them know they were in good hands. It was a great stone structure, built what seemed like a century ago with beautiful carved statues beside the heavy oaken doors, brilliantly colored stained glass pictures filling every window pane, and a ceiling inside that always glowed brightly with the soft flames of candles, lighting up the painted details set there so long ago. One could tell just by looking at it that it was a well cared for place, and it was no secret that the priest of the town loved his job dearly. The priest, known as Father Aviden, lived a pathways down from the church, in a modest log structure with his son, Silas. Silas had grown up to be a fine young man, following in his fathers footsteps to become his apprentice and had shown remarkable improvements over the years having eventually learned how to read fully. Father Aviden was well liked by all, always a caring figure to talk to when one thought there soul was in a bad place and needed guidance, and was even kind enough to allow his son to lead in sermons now and again. And on this particular rainy night, Silas had just finished patching up a leak in the roof from inside, placing an old rotted board over the hole and a small bucket beneath. Silas loved rain. The smell of it, all musty and earthy and cleansing and the way it would sound as it pattered relentlessly off the roof, creating a weird sort of lullaby that could easily doze the fiercest of men to sleep. It was nights like this that he'd get the best sleep, and normally would be quite drowsy by now had it not been for his fathers restless pacing. He'd been doing it for about an hour now. Back and forth beside the fireplace, pausing to run a stressed hand through his hair before starting up again. It was worrying. "Father, would you please sit down? You're going to wear a hole through the floor if you keep up on that path. What's troubling you?" He asked finally, having put his supplies away and dusted his hands off on his pants. His father started, staring at his son as if he'd forgotten where he was and who he was with. He blinked and shook his head, and it seemed like his old age all at once caught up with him, the lines in his face becoming defined and seemed to move with his exhausted frown as he collapsed back into a worn chair. "Ah, my son I'm sorry to worry you. I cannot shake the feeling that something is very wrong. I know you hear this from me often- always on rainy nights like this one- but it just feels as if something is off. I feel on edge, and as if we are to be in terrible danger." He said, rubbing at his forehead and for a moment Silas stopped listening to what he said, focusing on his withered appearance and wondered if that's what he would look like when he grew old. They were very similar in features. Light brown hair- though his fathers was greying quite badly now- deep green eyes and in Silas's case, on very sunny days, a light dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks. In build he was quite lanky, and both father and son shared sharp facial features. High cheek bones, slightly pointed nose and from his mothers side Silas had a much thinner face. No strong jawline, but something almost feminine in the way it sloped inward gently, ending at a chin which seemed to have forgotten it was supposed to grow hair. Troubling genetics had he decided to become a blacksmith or something that involved a lot of physical strength. Luckily for him he never had the hard decision of choosing what to become. He sighed slightly at that thought. Was it so lucky? Having your whole future planned ahead for you? Never having to wonder what hardships would await to get where you need to be because apparently this is where you are meant to be? Silas knew these thoughts were bad. He knew he shouldn't have them and he'd swore never to dwell to long on them, or act on them, but sometimes late at night when he was alone in the silence he couldn't help but allow himself to fantasies just a bit. He'd been in this village his whole life. Never once had he been allowed to set foot outside- not to hunt with the other boys to bring home kill for there family's- not to travel with the traders into neighboring towns to collect rarer goods for the community- and not with those who'd realized there intellectual talents were meant for much bigger places and had set off in the night to seek out there destinies. He'd never gotten the chance to leave because, as his father put it simply, he just had no business out there. He'd read about the world, off and on in distant books, but to actually see something like that. To get a clearer picture. What an idea! Returning his thoughts back to where they belong he moved over to the arm of the chair and shook his head. "We go through this so often, father. It's just your memories of that storm you were in when you were young that makes you feel this way. There's nothing malevolent on the wind, nothing sinister gliding through the trees, just put your fears away and get some rest. You've been on edge for weeks. I told you if there was something to be worried about it would've happened already, right?" He said, smiling and moving to sit in the opposite seat. His father gave him a wary look but knew this was a conversation lost already. "It's not always smart to throw caution to the wind, my boy. But I see the ravings of this old man aren't reaching your ears anymore. Perhaps you are right, and I'm just reliving old fears from the past. But remember your caution, boy." He said, sinking down into the chair further to gather up the fires warmth. Silas chuckled, which was rather rude of the situation but he couldn't help it. "And it's not always good to never relax now is it? Look where it's got you! Put it to rest now father. I'm sure the storm will quiet soon and you can rest easy."