Kaelen and The Valley of Voices Without a Name

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The morning was silent when Kaelen and Varaan reached the valley. Fog hung heavy between the gnarled trees, settling on the slopes like a blanket trying to conceal something. The path disappeared beneath dewy grasses, and the light was strangely muted—as if even the sun wanted to whisper here. "Do you hear that?" Kaelen asked, pausing. Varaan slowly lowered his head. No wind, no birdcall—only the deep, shallow breathing of the fog. Then, suddenly, a sound: a distant echo, not of their footsteps, not of their breath. It sounded like a voice, barely more than a breath—but it spoke. Not heard, but felt. A whisper inside their skull, familiar and strange at once. Kaelen sucked in the air. The fog tasted of memory. "They don't come from us," she said softly. "No," Varaan answered. "They come from here." They continued on their way, and with each step the mist answered with a different sound. A laugh that seemed to fit Kaelen's childhood. A shout her brother had once made. A sound of pain that reminded her of defeat, of a door that was never opened. "This is a valley of voices," Varaan said, "but none of them are yours. Not yet." Kaelen stepped into a clearing where the mist danced. And there it was—the voice. Clearer now, closer. It spoke no name, asked no question. But it carried Kaelen's name with it, like an imprint someone leaves in the water. A voice she didn't know, but which made her heart beat slower because it thought it had heard it before. She looked around. Nothing. Just mist and the gentle ticking of a branch against bark in the wind. And yet: "Kaelen..." Very quiet. Very real. She turned to Varaan, who was now standing still, as if listening to another time. "What is this?" she asked. "A story that seeks you," he said. "And one you haven't written yet." She walked on, slowly. The voice stayed with her. Sometimes behind her, sometimes in front of her, then again in her left ear. It wasn't threatening, just... yearning. As if something wanted to be found. Or someone. She stopped on a small rise. From here, one could see the whole valley, as far as the fog allowed. The ground was crisscrossed with narrow gullies—as if someone had drawn stories in lines across the land. Kaelen knelt down and placed her hand on one of those lines. Warm. And there it came again, the voice, right next to her ear: "Don't forget me." Something twitched deep inside her. An image—a girl, barefoot in a hall of glass. A shadow behind her. And a voice, like this one. It wasn't a memory, it was a premonition. A clue. "I think I knew you," Kaelen whispered back. Then the fog settled over everything like a blanket. The voice fell silent. It remained silent for a long time. As Varaan approached, he didn't ask. He just looked into the valley, as if listening to his own past. Kaelen rose.