Chapter 1: A Scholar’s Journey

The road stretched endlessly ahead, winding through a dense forest that seemed to grow darker with every step. Bleddyn, a young scholar with a passion for uncovering the unknown, made his way along the path toward a remote European village few dared to visit. His well-worn satchel hung at his side, filled with journals documenting his travels, research, and the odd, inexplicable phenomena that had come to define his life.

The village, so small that it appeared on no maps, had caught his attention for the whispered tales that surrounded it. Stories of spirits, of restless souls tied to the land, of a love long forgotten but never fully extinguished. Bleddyn had spent years chasing such stories, hoping to uncover the truth behind the myths that captivated his imagination.

As he approached the village, the trees seemed to lean in closer, their branches heavy with the weight of centuries. The air grew colder, the light dimmer, but Bleddyn pressed on, driven by a feeling he couldn’t explain. It was as if the village itself was calling him, drawing him into its secrets.

Finally, the path opened to reveal a small, secluded village nestled at the edge of a mist-covered forest. Stone cottages lined the cobbled streets, their walls covered in moss, as though nature had reclaimed the village long ago. There was a sense of stillness here, not the peaceful kind, but the kind that makes one feel as though they have stepped into a place suspended in time.

Bleddyn’s eyes were drawn to the village square, where a well stood at its center. Beside it, a woman stood, her presence commanding yet serene. She was beautiful in an ethereal way, with dark hair cascading down her back and eyes that seemed to pierce through the mist. Her gaze met his, and for a moment, Bleddyn felt a strange jolt, as though he had seen her before in another life, in another time.

The moment passed as quickly as it had come. The woman turned and began to walk toward the edge of the village, her figure fading into the mist. Bleddyn stood frozen for a moment, his heart racing, unsure of what had just happened.

“Who was she?” he muttered under his breath.

He had come here seeking answers about the supernatural, and now it seemed that the mystery had found him first.

Bleddyn walked further into the village, his thoughts still on the woman by the well. He entered the village inn, a small, rustic building that looked as though it had stood unchanged for centuries. The innkeeper, an elderly man with weathered features, greeted him with a nod, clearly not used to seeing visitors.

“Looking for a room?” the innkeeper asked, his voice gruff but not unkind.

“Yes,” Bleddyn replied, his curiosity still burning. “And perhaps some answers, too. I’ve heard stories about this village.”

The innkeeper’s expression darkened slightly, his eyes narrowing. “Stories, eh? This village has its share of those, sure enough. But not all of them should be dug up.”

“I’m a scholar,” Bleddyn explained, “I’ve come to study the supernatural occurrences. I seek the truth behind the legends.”

The innkeeper leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “There’s truth in some of those stories, no doubt. But some things are better left alone, lad.”

Bleddyn felt a chill run down his spine. “I saw a woman near the well. Who is she?”

The innkeeper straightened, his face softening slightly. “Ah, that would be Bernyce. She’s lived here longer than anyone can remember. Keeps to herself mostly, but there’s always been something… different about her.”

“Different how?” Bleddyn pressed.

The innkeeper hesitated, his eyes darting toward the window. “Some say she’s tied to the land, to the spirits. That she’s not quite like the rest of us. But you’d do well not to go poking into that business.”

Bleddyn thanked the innkeeper and took his key, his mind racing. He had come here searching for answers about the supernatural, but it seemed the village held far more mysteries than he had anticipated—and at the center of them was Bernyce.

That night, as Bleddyn lay in his small room, sleep eluded him. His mind kept drifting back to the woman by the well, to her haunting eyes and the strange, almost otherworldly feeling she had evoked in him. There was something about her, something that tugged at the edges of his memory, though he couldn’t place it.

The moonlight filtered through the window, casting long shadows across the room. Bleddyn stared up at the ceiling, his thoughts swirling with questions. Who was Bernyce? And why did he feel such a connection to her, as though their lives were intertwined in ways he couldn’t yet understand? As the night wore on, one thing became clear: his journey was just beginning, and whatever secrets the village held, they were tied to Bernyce. He had to find her again. And this time, he wouldn’t let her disappear into the mist.