LGHTNOVELBOOK Chapter 30: The Stranger in Town
The evening air in Brighthaven carried a quiet serenity, broken only by the occasional murmur of the townsfolk. Elliot leaned against the window of the inn's modest room, his sharp gaze fixed on the fading light outside. The simplicity of the town was unsettling. No noise, no chaos—just silence and stillness. It was a stark contrast to the bustling cities he had grown accustomed to, where the hum of life was a constant.
Edward sat in a worn armchair by the hearth, his pipe resting comfortably between his fingers as tendrils of smoke curled upward. "You've been quiet, lad," he said, his tone light but edged with curiosity.
"I always am," Elliot replied, his voice calm, yet distant.
Edward chuckled, shaking his head. "Fair enough. But even you have limits to how much brooding you can do in a day."
Elliot glanced at him briefly before returning his gaze to the darkening streets below. "This place doesn't sit right with me," he muttered.
Edward raised an eyebrow, exhaling a puff of smoke. "It's just a quiet town. Not every place hides a grand mystery, you know."
"That's what makes it strange," Elliot countered. "Quiet doesn't mean peaceful." His sharp eyes caught fleeting movement among the shadows outside, but when he blinked, it was gone.
Edward studied his grandson for a moment, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Elliot's intuition had always been uncanny, a trait he suspected had more to do with their shared past than anything supernatural. "Well, don't let your imagination get the better of you. We're here to get the carriage fixed, not to solve the town's mysteries."
Elliot didn't respond, but his gaze remained fixed on the cobblestone streets below, his mind already piecing together fragments of unease.
The next morning, Elliot and Edward ventured into the heart of Brighthaven. The cobblestones were slick from the early morning dew, and the air carried the faint scent of fresh bread and damp earth. Edward's easygoing demeanor contrasted sharply with Elliot's quiet intensity as they walked through the market square.
The townsfolk greeted Edward warmly, their smiles polite but fleeting. Yet their reactions to Elliot were markedly different. Eyes lingered a little too long, conversations paused as he passed, and whispers followed him like shadows.
At the blacksmith's forge, Edward struck up a conversation with the craftsman, a burly man with soot-streaked arms and a booming voice. "Carriage wheel broke on the road again," Edward explained. "Think you could help us out?"
The blacksmith nodded, gesturing to a pile of timber and metal scraps. "We'll see what we can do."
As the two men discussed the repairs, Elliot wandered to the edge of the square. His sharp eyes scanned the surroundings, noting the wary glances of the townsfolk and the subdued atmosphere that clung to the town like a shroud.
It was then he noticed a girl sitting on the stone steps of a nearby shop. Her dark hair fell in soft waves around her face as she deftly wove a bundle of herbs into a small wreath. There was a quiet determination in her movements, a focus that seemed out of place among the usual idleness of children.
It's this girl again.
Aurora glanced up briefly, her gaze meeting Elliot's. There was no fear or hesitation in her dark eyes, only a flicker of curiosity. Elliot held her gaze for a moment, unsure whether to approach, but before he could decide, the girl turned back to her work, dismissing him with the indifference of someone who had more important things to do.
That evening, back at the inn, Elliot found himself restless. The day's observations had left him unsettled, and the weight of unspoken questions pressed against his mind. Unable to sleep, he slipped out onto the narrow balcony overlooking the street.
The moon hung low in the sky, casting a pale glow over the town. Shadows stretched long and thin across the cobblestones, their shapes twisting and shifting in ways that seemed unnatural. Elliot leaned against the railing, his sharp gaze scanning the darkness.
A sudden movement near the edge of the forest caught his attention. A figure emerged, cloaked in shadows, its form indistinct but undeniably human. It moved with an eerie fluidity, as though it were part of the darkness itself.
Elliot's breath hitched as the figure paused, its head tilting as if sensing his presence. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the figure melted back into the forest, leaving no trace of its passage.
The next morning, Elliot's demeanor was more guarded than ever. As Edward busied himself with preparations for their departure, Elliot wandered the town alone, his thoughts consumed by the encounter from the night before.
At the market, he lingered near the stalls, his ears tuned to the murmurs of the townsfolk. Words like "forest" and "shadows" reached him in hushed tones, their meanings obscured by fear and superstition.
When he returned to the inn, Edward noticed the change in his grandson. "You look like you've seen a ghost," he remarked, half-joking. But deep within his eyes was his concern.
Elliot hesitated before replying. "There's something about this town… something off."
Edward sighed, placing a reassuring hand on Elliot's shoulder. "Not every mystery needs solving, lad. Sometimes, it's best to leave the shadows where they belong."
But Elliot wasn't so sure. The shadows in Brighthaven weren't just ordinary darkness. And whether he wanted to or not, he felt drawn to uncover what lay hidden within them.