Thirty-Three Summers Ago

The workshop had taught me many things. How to shape wood, how to read grain, how to turn raw timber into something beautiful. But Master Jonathan’s first lesson – the one I learned fastest – was simple: don’t question him. Never.

I was polishing a newly finished chair when the workshop door burst open. Cornelius, the wandering merchant, swept in like an autumn leaf, his ridiculous green coat rustling.

„My dearest friends!“ he exclaimed, his well-groomed goatee barely concealing a smile that seemed both too bright and too knowing.

Master Jonathan didn’t look up from his work. „Cornelius,“ he muttered, and something in his voice made me pause. In three years, I’d never heard that edge in my master’s tone before.

„Young Raguel!“ Cornelius turned to me with an elaborate bow. „How you’ve grown in your craft! Such fortune, to study under such a... wise mentor.“ The slight pause before 'wise' was odd, but then everything about Cornelius was odd.

„Enough!“ Master Jonathan’s voice cracked like a branch in winter. „We have work to do. Important work.“

Cornelius retreated with a bow so deep it bordered on mockery, though his eyes never left my face. „Of course, of course! Far be it from me to intrude upon such... dedicated instruction.“ As he backed toward the door, he added in a stage whisper, „Though perhaps some instructions lead to darker paths than others.“

As the door closed behind him, Master Jonathan’s hand came to rest on my shoulder. The familiar weight felt different somehow, heavier with unspoken purpose. „Don’t let such charlatans distract you, my boy. We have a journey to prepare for.“

„A journey, Master?“

His eyes darted to me, and I couldn’t find their usual warmth. „Yes. To the Ancient Woods. It’s time for your final test. I’ve been preparing you for this moment for years.“ His smile seemed sincere, but somehow felt forced. My hand twitched involuntarily at the word 'test'. „Yes, Master.“ Don’t question him. Never.

As twilight approached, we made our way to the forest’s edge. But there, leaning against a gnarled oak, was Cornelius again.

„Ah, the intrepid explorers!“ He called out, his voice dripping with false cheer. „Venturing into the Ancient Woods on such a... significant night.“

Master Jonathan’s jaw clenched. „This doesn’t concern you, Cornelius.“

„Doesn’t it? Well, I think it does!“ Cornelius' gaze locked onto mine, his incredibly blue eyes seeming to pierce through me. „Raguel, my most esteemed young friend, are you certain you know what awaits in those shadows?“

Before I could respond, Master Jonathan grabbed my arm, pulling me past Cornelius. „Ignore him, this charlatan knows nothing,“ he hissed, spitting the words out, and I caught something in Cornelius' eyes. Hurt? Sorrow? Anger?

As we entered the forest, Cornelius' voice floated after us: „I will watch over you, my young friend!“

Those words sent a shiver down my spine. Part of me wanted to turn back, to heed Cornelius' cryptic warnings. But a larger part, the part that had learned to trust Master Jonathan implicitly, pushed me forward. Still, the memory of those piercing blue eyes haunted me as we delved into the woods.

The forest seemed to close around us, and soon the trees became darker and the shadows deeper. Time lost meaning under these massive, ancient branches. How long had we walked? The workshop, with its familiar scents of wood shavings and varnish, felt as distant as childhood.

Master Jonathan’s pace quickened, his eyes scanned the darkness, searching for something. The anticipation rolling off him was palpable, mixing with my growing unease.

Suddenly, the dense foliage parted, revealing a moonlit clearing. The air here felt different - charged, as if unseen forces danced around us. It was thick with a strange energy that made the hairs on my arms stand on end and left a metallic taste on my tongue. Every breath felt heavy, laden with secrets and... power. At the center stood an ancient Stone, its surface a tapestry of ivy and shadow. As we drew closer, I noticed something peculiar: beneath the tangle of vines, a soft light pulsed, barely visible yet impossible to ignore. The glow was unlike anything I’d ever seen - not the warm yellow of candlelight or the harsh white of lightning. No, this was a deep, vibrant green that seemed to breathe with a life of its own. It reminded me of something, tugging at the edges of my memory...

Then it struck me. The light was the exact same shade as Cornelius' coat, that ridiculous garment he always wore. Was it mere coincidence, or something more?

The ivy trembled, though no breeze stirred the clearing. The pulsing light grew stronger, casting eerie shadows that danced across Master Jonathan’s face. His expression was one of hunger, of desperate longing, so intense it almost frightened me.

„Finally,“ Master Jonathan whispered, his voice trembling with an emotion I couldn’t place. „After all these years...“

The words trailed off, leaving the sentence hanging ominously in the air.

What was this place? What power did this Stone hold that could make my Master, always so composed, tremble with anticipation?

As we approached the Stone, Master Jonathan’s eyes gleamed in the eerie light, reflecting a hunger I’d never seen before. The Stone loomed before us, ancient and inscrutable. Its surface was etched with symbols I didn’t recognize, curves and angles that seemed to shift when I wasn’t looking directly at them. In the center, I noticed a curious depression, smooth and worn, as if countless hands had touched it over the centuries. It was just the right size and shape for a human palm, almost inviting touch. The green light seeped from these markings and the central hollow, painting the clearing in its unearthly hue.

As we stood there, bathed in that pulsing green light, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we stood on the precipice of something monumental. Something that would change everything I thought I knew about my master, about Cornelius, about the very nature of the world itself.

Little did I know just how right I was.

„Master,“ I ventured, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart, „what is this place?“

He didn’t seem to hear me. His gaze was fixed on the Stone, his hand tightening around the knife he always carried.

„So close,“ he murmured. „So very close.“

I reached out to touch the Stone, drawn by a curiosity I couldn’t explain, but Master Jonathan’s hand shot out, gripping my wrist with surprising strength.

„Don’t touch it,“ he hissed, eyes never leaving the Stone. „It’s not you who will touch it. Well... only a part of you, to be precise.“

A chill ran down my spine, his words echoing in my mind like a death knell. My mouth went dry, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe. The Master I thought I knew - the man who had guided me, almost fathered me - suddenly seemed a stranger. His grip on my wrist tightened, and I could feel the tremor in his hand, a mix of excitement and something darker.

„M-Master?“ I stammered, my voice barely a whisper. „What do you mean?“

But as I looked into his eyes, I saw no trace of the Master who had patiently taught me to coax beauty from raw wood. Instead, I saw hunger, desperation, and a flickering madness that made my blood run cold. In that moment, I realized that the true test wasn’t about my skills as a craftsman. It was about survival.

Suddenly, I found myself wishing Cornelius were here. The thought surprised me; I didn’t fully understand why, but something in me longed for the presence of the eccentric merchant with his ridiculous green coat. His warnings, his strange behavior, his constant attempts to intervene - they began to take on a new, urgent meaning. Somehow, I sensed that Cornelius had been trying to protect me all along.

As the green light of the Stone pulsed intensely around us, casting eerie shadows across Master Jonathan’s face, I realized I was alone with a man I no longer recognized, at the edge of a deadly danger I was only beginning to comprehend.

Master Jonathan’s grip on my wrist tightened, his knuckles white with tension. With his free hand, he reached for the knife at his belt, the blade gleaming ominously in the pulsing green light. Time seemed to stretch into an eternity as I watched, paralyzed, unable to move or speak. The air grew thick, suffocating. My heart pounded in my chest, so loud I was sure Master Jonathan could hear it. As he began to raise the knife, a single, terrifying thought crystallized in my mind: This is it. This is how I die.

A twig snapped behind us. We whirled around to see Cornelius step from the shadows, power rippling beneath his shabby disguise. A wave of relief washed over me, so intense it made me dizzy. I had never been so glad to see that ridiculous green coat in my life. Cornelius' presence was like a lifeline thrown to a drowning man, and I clung to it desperately. In that moment, I didn’t care about his cryptic warnings or odd behavior. All that mattered was that I was no longer alone with the stranger wearing my Master’s face.

„Jonathan, stop this madness,“ Cornelius said, his voice resonating with an otherworldly authority.

Master Jonathan’s face contorted with rage and envy. „You’ve hoarded the knowledge for thirty-three years, Cornelius! It’s my turn now. I’ll present the boy’s pure heart to the Stone and become the next Keeper.“

Cornelius' eyes, filled with ancient wisdom and deep sorrow, turned to me. „Raguel, I’m so sorry. I should have seen this coming. The Stone granted me knowledge beyond mortal understanding, but it also burdened me with the responsibility to protect it. I’ve failed you.“

Before I could process this revelation, Master Jonathan spat out: „Enough! I won’t let you deny me this, Cornelius.“

The knife glinted in the Stone’s pulsing light as Master Jonathan pressed it against my neck, his face a mask of determination and regret. „I’m sorry, my boy. Truly, I am. But your pure heart... it’s the key to unlocking the Stone’s power. With it, I can present myself as worthy.“ His voice cracked. „You’re perfect for this.“

My heart raced as the truth dawned on me. I saw the hunger in the Master’s eyes, a desperate need for knowledge and power that had consumed whatever affection he might once have felt for me. I saw my own reflection in the blade, eyes wide with terror and disbelief, and I realized that he would end my life now to achieve his goal.

And then I saw green. With a speed I wouldn’t have thought possible, Cornelius threw himself between us. There was a sickening sound of tearing fabric and flesh as the knife meant for me sank deep into his side. 

„NO!“ The cry tore from my throat as Cornelius stumbled, his coat now stained with spreading crimson.

As he fell, Cornelius' eyes locked onto mine. Gone was all pretense of the foolish merchant. In that moment, I saw decades of pain, of regret, and of fierce determination.

„Boy,“ he gasped, his voice strong despite the blood bubbling at his lips, „touch the Stone! NOW!“

In that instant, everything clicked into place. The warnings, the eccentric demeanor, Cornelius' constant presence – he had been trying to protect me all along.

Master Jonathan snarled, wrenching the knife free. „You meddling fool! You can’t stop this. Not now! Not when I’m so close!“

As he raised the knife again, my hand found the Stone’s surface, guided by instinct and Cornelius' dying words. Symbols blazed to life, filling the clearing with a pure, white light.

„No,“ Jonathan breathed. „NO!“ 

He charged forward, but at that moment, the light turned as red as blood, a strong beam aiming at Master Jonathan. He froze mid-stride, his face transforming from rage to horror as stone crept across his skin. The knife clattered to the ground as my Master was trapped in eternal granite.

Silence fell, broken only by my ragged breathing and Cornelius' labored gasps. I rushed to his side, cradling his head in my lap.

„Why?“ I whispered, tears blurring my vision. „Why did you do it?“

Cornelius smiled, for once without a trace of performance, a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth. „Because thirty-three years ago, the Stone chose me over him for giving me its wisdom. Jonathan told me... he would take his turn the next time, whatever it takes.“ His eyes flickered to the granite statue that had once been Master Jonathan. „He was my friend once, you know. Before the Stone’s power corrupted him. I thought... I thought I could save him by letting him have his way. I was wrong.“

I looked at the Master I had trusted with my life, my future, now frozen in stone. He had been willing to end it all for his own ambition. „He would have... he really would have killed me,“ I whispered.

Cornelius nodded. „Yes. He would have.“ He coughed, a rattling sound that chilled me to the bone. „But now, the Stone chose you. You are a good man, Raguel.“ His voice was heavy with pain.

As dawn broke, painting the forest in new colors, Cornelius' breathing grew heavier. The Stone’s intense light had faded, but a soft, residual glow still emanated from its surface, pulsing gently like a fading heartbeat. As I cradled Cornelius in my arms, I could feel the Stone’s lingering energy in the air around us. Somehow, I knew that Cornelius would die.

„What happens now?“ I asked, trying to comfort him in his last moments.

He smiled. „Now you begin again. For the next...“ he struggled to breathe and coughed blood, „for the next thirty-three years... you will be the Keeper of the Stone’s wisdom.“

With those final words, Cornelius' eyes met mine one last time, a look of peace settling over his features. His hand, which had gripped mine so tightly, slowly relaxed as his last breath whispered past his lips. In that moment, as the weight of his still form settled in my arms, I felt the full magnitude of what had been lost.

Now I stood alone. The granite figure that had once been my Master loomed behind me, a stark reminder of how quickly life could change. Cornelius' words echoed in my mind, but their meaning felt distant, obscured by the fog of shock and exhaustion.

I looked down at my hands, still trembling slightly. These hands that had learned to shape wood, to create beauty from raw timber, now held a power I couldn’t comprehend. The knowledge Cornelius spoke of, the responsibility of being a Keeper - it all seemed too vast, too overwhelming. I was just an apprentice, wasn’t I? Just a boy who had wanted to learn a craft, to make his Master proud.

But that boy was gone now, swept away by the events of this night. In his place stood... who? A Keeper? A wielder of ancient magic? I didn’t know. The path ahead was shrouded in mystery, and for the first time in years, I had no one to guide me, no one to tell me what to do next.

Just then, as the Stone’s light faded and finally disappeared, I heard a whisper, not in my ears but in my heart. It was Cornelius' voice, warm and reassuring: „I’ll be in your heart, whenever you need me.“

A wave of emotion washed over me – grief, gratitude, and a renewed sense of purpose. I took a deep breath, steadying myself. Then, with a reverence I didn’t quite understand, I reached down and picked up Cornelius' coat. It was still warm, the fabric soft and familiar despite the tears and bloodstains. I draped it over my shoulders, feeling its weight like both a burden and a comfort.

With each uncertain step away from the clearing, away from the life I had known, I felt a mix of fear and something else... something that felt almost like hope. This was just the beginning of a new chapter, and though the path ahead was shrouded in mystery, I realized that I wouldn't be facing it alone. The coat on my shoulders was a reminder of Cornelius' sacrifice and wisdom, a tangible link to the magic I now carried within me. And somehow, I knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, I would find the strength to meet them.