Days turned into weeks, and the subtle tension of Lumi's inquiries hung in the air between her and Pipkin. He found himself more drawn to her company, a strange mix of caution and burgeoning trust. He sensed she held a deeper understanding of the world than the other villagers, a connection to its hidden energies that resonated with the faint whispers he himself perceived.
One crisp autumn evening, the village of Oakhaven gathered for a small harvest festival. Elder Maeve, her face a roadmap of wrinkles etched by time and wisdom, sat on a raised platform beneath the flickering torchlight. Villagers approached her with offerings of the season and sought her counsel.
Lumi nudged Pipkin gently. "Elder Maeve has seen much in her years. Sometimes, she speaks of things that seem like old wives' tales, but there's often a kernel of truth within them."
Intrigued, Pipkin watched as a young farmer asked about a blight affecting his crops. Elder Maeve, her voice surprisingly strong despite her age, spoke of ancient spirits and the need for balance with the land. As she spoke, Pipkin noticed a faint shimmer in the air around her, a subtle manifestation of magical energy that the "System" seemed to register:
[Proximity to Elder Maeve]
[Potential Aura Detected: Wisdom (Minor), Temporal Echoes (Faint)]
Temporal Echoes? Could Elder Maeve somehow be connected to the past in a way that resonated with his own lost history?
Later, as the crowd thinned, Lumi led Pipkin towards the elder. "Elder Maeve," she said respectfully, "this is Pipkin. He has… a curious mind."
Elder Maeve's eyes, though clouded with age, seemed to pierce through Pipkin's unassuming exterior. "Curious minds often see more than they let on, child," she said, her gaze fixed on him.
Pipkin felt a strange unease under her scrutiny. "I… I just like to learn about things," he mumbled.
The elder chuckled, a dry, rustling sound. "Learning is a good path. But some knowledge… it sleeps for a reason. Best not to stir what is meant to rest."
Her words, though cryptic, struck a chord within Xylos. Was she aware of something more? Could she sense the ancient power slumbering within him?
Lumi then asked about a local legend, a tale of a powerful spring said to have healing properties and to sometimes show glimpses of the past. As Elder Maeve recounted the story, her voice taking on a wistful quality, Pipkin felt a faint pull, a resonance similar to what he'd experienced near the Whispermoss. The "System" flickered:
[Mention of the Spring of Whispers]
[Potential Connection: Water Magic Source]
[Temporal Echoes (Faint) Intensified in Elder Maeve's Aura]
"The Spring of Whispers… they say the water remembers," Elder Maeve concluded, her gaze distant. "But its whispers are faint, and only those who listen with their heart might hear them."
As they walked away from the elder, Lumi turned to Pipkin, her expression thoughtful. "Did you feel it, Pipkin? When she spoke of the spring?"
He nodded slowly. "A… a faint pull."
Lumi's eyes widened slightly. "I feel it too, sometimes. A sense of… something old. Something powerful." She looked at him intently. "Perhaps… perhaps we should visit this spring, Pipkin. Together."
The invitation hung in the air, a silent acknowledgment of their shared, unusual perceptions. For Xylos, it was more than just a visit to a spring. It was a potential step towards understanding the mysteries of this new world and perhaps, finally, unlocking the useless god within. Elder Maeve's cryptic warnings echoed in his mind, but the lure of a potential connection to his past, to his very essence, was too strong to ignore. He nodded slowly, a flicker of anticipation – and perhaps a touch of trepidation – stirring within him. "Yes, Lumi. Let's go."