Elara Driftmoon's Arc

Chapter 2 of 3

Elara stepped into the empty shop room and set her leather satchel on the wooden table. The recording booth waited in the corner, ready for visitors who might never come. She needed to learn how people really felt about the dead before she could build her sanctuary. Would they share their memories, or would they think her dream was foolish? She pulled out a chair and sat down, staring at the door. The afternoon light filtered through the dusty window. Her heart hammered in her chest as footsteps approached outside. The door opened. An old woman stepped inside, clutching a worn letter against her chest. Elara stood and gestured toward the recording booth. The woman spoke for twenty minutes about her brother who died in a factory fire. No one had written down his name anywhere. When she finished, tears wet her wrinkled cheeks. She pressed the letter into Elara's hands and thanked her three times before leaving. Elara knew she needed a place to study old records and find more forgotten people. The Town Library stood at the edge of the market district, its tall arched windows and stone walls holding decades of information. She spent the next morning there, pulling dusty books from shelves and copying names into her journal. Each name was a person who had lived and died in Drakenmoor. Each one deserved to be remembered. She gathered letters and documents, then brought them back to dry on a sleek metal rack outside the shop. The papers needed air before she could store them safely. That evening, she walked to her future sanctuary site and placed a lantern post near where the entrance would be. The warm glow lit the darkness, welcoming anyone who might visit after sunset. She stood back and watched the light flicker. Her dream was taking shape, one small piece at a time. The forgotten dead would have their stories told.