Kael's boots crunched through the underbrush, the morning sun painting gold across the frost-covered forest floor. The weight of his pack bit into his shoulders, and the mountain wind tugged at his cloak, but he moved with certainty. Every step down the mountain felt surreal—he had spent six years preparing for this. And now, at last, the world was no longer a dream blurred by distance. It was here. Vast. Real. Waiting.
Birdsong filled the crisp air, and somewhere in the distance, a river murmured like a promise. Kael took a deep breath. The world smelled different outside the safety of the cliffs: wilder, older. There was a whisper in the breeze, something ancient watching.
He stopped at a ridge and looked back.
The cabin was gone now, hidden behind pines and distance. It struck him harder than he expected.
"Goodbye, Crusty Noble," he murmured.
Then he turned and moved on.
---
The first town Kael encountered was little more than a cluster of stone cottages and wooden stalls, nestled beside a half-frozen stream. Children ran barefoot through muddy paths, and merchants called out prices for meat, grain, and questionable-looking stew.
Kael tightened his hood. It was best to draw little attention.
Still, people stared. A tall boy in travel leathers with a scarred eye and a sword strapped to his back wasn't common fare in a sleepy village.
He approached a cart selling roasted chestnuts. The vendor, a stout woman with elbows like hammers, squinted at him.
"You look like trouble."
Kael offered a faint smile. "I'm not. Just hungry."
She grunted, handed him a small bag of steaming chestnuts, and waved him off. "Three coppers."
Kael hesitated. Then he remembered Thorne's advice and fished into his pouch. Always keep coin separate. Never show more than you need to.
He paid, took the food, and sat under a tree near the edge of town. As he ate, his ears picked up on whispers.
"Did you see that sword?"
"That's not a local kid. Too clean. Too quiet."
"Maybe he's a mercenary."
Kael sighed. So much for blending in.
---
By sundown, he had left the village behind, following an old hunter's trail that curved around the edge of a wide ravine. He moved with caution—Thorne had taught him how to listen to the forest, how to let his steps match the rhythm of nature.
Then he heard it.
Whimpering.
Kael stopped, eyes narrowing. The sound came from below the ridge. He crouched, moving toward the edge.
Down in the hollow, two figures huddled near a fallen wagon. A girl—maybe fourteen—and a man, older, his leg trapped beneath a broken wheel. Surrounding them were shadows. Not men.
Wolves.
Too many.
Kael didn't hesitate. He slid down the hill in a controlled sprint, pulling his sword free in one motion.
The wolves turned at the noise, eyes glowing in the dim light. They were not natural—too large, too silent.
Spirit-bound, Kael thought.
He leapt into the center of the clearing.
"Hey! Flea-ridden mutts! Pick on someone who bites back."
The lead wolf growled and lunged. Kael met it mid-air, blade flashing. Steel met fur and spirit mist with a hiss. The creature crumpled with a yelp.
The others hesitated. Kael felt his power stir—like coals being fed breath. Energy thrummed in his limbs.
He didn't know how to use it fully yet. But he didn't need to.
He moved like a flame through fog. Parrying, striking, dodging. The last wolf turned and bolted, its form dissolving into smoke before it vanished into the woods.
Kael exhaled. The clearing was silent.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, turning to the travelers.
The girl nodded, eyes wide. The man groaned.
Kael helped lift the broken wheel enough for the man to drag himself free. His leg was bloodied, but not shattered.
"Thank you," the man rasped. "We'd be—gods, we'd be dead."
Kael offered him a water skin. "What happened?"
The girl spoke. "Bandits. They attacked us on the road. The wolves came after… like they were following them."
Kael frowned. Spirit-bound wolves didn't just follow bandits.
Something was off.
"Where were you heading?"
"Scholar's City," the man said. "My niece here—she's got a head for runes. The temple takes girls like her."
Kael blinked. Coincidence? No. Fate was rarely so subtle.
He looked at the girl. She looked half-terrified of him. Or maybe in awe.
He smiled. "I'm headed the same way. Let me help you reach the next safe outpost."
---
Two days passed. Kael repaired the wagon as best he could and helped guide the mule through forest paths. The girl, whose name was Ellyn, warmed to him quickly. She had an infectious laugh and an endless stream of questions.
"Where'd you get your sword? Did you really kill a monster once? Why do you have a scar? Does it make girls like you more?"
Kael flushed. "I—uh. No idea. Never really asked."
She smirked. "You're fun when you're flustered."
The old man, Uncle Rauren, chuckled from the back. "Careful, lad. She's got more fire than a forge."
Kael chuckled, but part of him remained alert. The bandits. The wolves. The timing.
Someone didn't want these two to reach the city.
And that meant there were forces moving in the dark.
---
On the third evening, smoke rose in the distance. A trading post—timber walls and torch-lit gates—stood nestled at the forest's edge. Relief washed over them.
As they approached, guards opened the gate.
One recognized Kael from his blade. "You handle that thing like a noble's son. Got a name, traveler?"
Kael hesitated.
"Kael," he said. "Just Kael."
"Well, Just Kael, welcome to Kessrim Post."
Inside, Kael helped Rauren into a healer's hut and saw Ellyn safely placed with a temple escort. She hugged him tightly.
"Will I see you again?"
Kael hesitated. "Maybe. The world's strange like that."
She punched his arm. "You better not die. You're the coolest guy I've met in forever."
Kael smiled. "Thanks, Ellyn. Keep learning. Make them proud."
As night fell, he stepped out into the lantern-lit courtyard. He looked up.
The stars were clearer here.
He touched the scar under his eye, feeling the pulse of that silent god's regret deep within.
And he walked on.
Toward the Scholar's City.
Toward his sister.
Toward answers.
Chapter 3: Footsteps Beyond the Pines
Kael's boots crunched through the underbrush, the morning sun painting gold across the frost-covered forest floor. The weight of his pack bit into his shoulders, and the mountain wind tugged at his cloak, but he moved with certainty. Every step down the mountain felt surreal—he had spent six years preparing for this. And now, at last, the world was no longer a dream blurred by distance. It was here. Vast. Real. Waiting.
Birdsong filled the crisp air, and somewhere in the distance, a river murmured like a promise. Kael took a deep breath. The world smelled different outside the safety of the cliffs: wilder, older. There was a whisper in the breeze, something ancient watching.
He stopped at a ridge and looked back.
The cabin was gone now, hidden behind pines and distance. It struck him harder than he expected.
"Goodbye, Crusty Noble," he murmured.
Then he turned and moved on.
---
The first town Kael encountered was little more than a cluster of stone cottages and wooden stalls, nestled beside a half-frozen stream. Children ran barefoot through muddy paths, and merchants called out prices for meat, grain, and questionable-looking stew.
Kael tightened his hood. It was best to draw little attention.
Still, people stared. A tall boy in travel leathers with a scarred eye and a sword strapped to his back wasn't common fare in a sleepy village.
He approached a cart selling roasted chestnuts. The vendor, a stout woman with elbows like hammers, squinted at him.
"You look like trouble."
Kael offered a faint smile. "I'm not. Just hungry."
She grunted, handed him a small bag of steaming chestnuts, and waved him off. "Three coppers."
Kael hesitated. Then he remembered Thorne's advice and fished into his pouch. Always keep coin separate. Never show more than you need to.
He paid, took the food, and sat under a tree near the edge of town. As he ate, his ears picked up on whispers.
"Did you see that sword?"
"That's not a local kid. Too clean. Too quiet."
"Maybe he's a mercenary."
Kael sighed. So much for blending in.
---
By sundown, he had left the village behind, following an old hunter's trail that curved around the edge of a wide ravine. He moved with caution—Thorne had taught him how to listen to the forest, how to let his steps match the rhythm of nature.
Then he heard it.
Whimpering.
Kael stopped, eyes narrowing. The sound came from below the ridge. He crouched, moving toward the edge.
Down in the hollow, two figures huddled near a fallen wagon. A girl—maybe fourteen—and a man, older, his leg trapped beneath a broken wheel. Surrounding them were shadows. Not men.
Wolves.
Too many.
Kael didn't hesitate. He slid down the hill in a controlled sprint, pulling his sword free in one motion.
The wolves turned at the noise, eyes glowing in the dim light. They were not natural—too large, too silent.
Spirit-bound, Kael thought.
He leapt into the center of the clearing.
"Hey! Flea-ridden mutts! Pick on someone who bites back."
The lead wolf growled and lunged. Kael met it mid-air, blade flashing. Steel met fur and spirit mist with a hiss. The creature crumpled with a yelp.
The others hesitated. Kael felt his power stir—like coals being fed breath. Energy thrummed in his limbs.
He didn't know how to use it fully yet. But he didn't need to.
He moved like a flame through fog. Parrying, striking, dodging. The last wolf turned and bolted, its form dissolving into smoke before it vanished into the woods.
Kael exhaled. The clearing was silent.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, turning to the travelers.
The girl nodded, eyes wide. The man groaned.
Kael helped lift the broken wheel enough for the man to drag himself free. His leg was bloodied, but not shattered.
"Thank you," the man rasped. "We'd be—gods, we'd be dead."
Kael offered him a water skin. "What happened?"
The girl spoke. "Bandits. They attacked us on the road. The wolves came after… like they were following them."
Kael frowned. Spirit-bound wolves didn't just follow bandits.
Something was off.
"Where were you heading?"
"Scholar's City," the man said. "My niece here—she's got a head for runes. The temple takes girls like her."
Kael blinked. Coincidence? No. Fate was rarely so subtle.
He looked at the girl. She looked half-terrified of him. Or maybe in awe.
He smiled. "I'm headed the same way. Let me help you reach the next safe outpost."
---
Two days passed. Kael repaired the wagon as best he could and helped guide the mule through forest paths. The girl, whose name was Ellyn, warmed to him quickly. She had an infectious laugh and an endless stream of questions.
"Where'd you get your sword? Did you really kill a monster once? Why do you have a scar? Does it make girls like you more?"
Kael flushed. "I—uh. No idea. Never really asked."
She smirked. "You're fun when you're flustered."
The old man, Uncle Rauren, chuckled from the back. "Careful, lad. She's got more fire than a forge."
Kael chuckled, but part of him remained alert. The bandits. The wolves. The timing.
Someone didn't want these two to reach the city.
And that meant there were forces moving in the dark.
---
On the third evening, smoke rose in the distance. A trading post—timber walls and torch-lit gates—stood nestled at the forest's edge. Relief washed over them.
As they approached, guards opened the gate.
One recognized Kael from his blade. "You handle that thing like a noble's son. Got a name, traveler?"
Kael hesitated.
"Kael," he said. "Just Kael."
"Well, Just Kael, welcome to Kessrim Post."
Inside, Kael helped Rauren into a healer's hut and saw Ellyn safely placed with a temple escort. She hugged him tightly.
"Will I see you again?"
Kael hesitated. "Maybe. The world's strange like that."
She punched his arm. "You better not die. You're the coolest guy I've met in forever."
Kael smiled. "Thanks, Ellyn. Keep learning. Make them proud."
As night fell, he stepped out into the lantern-lit courtyard. He looked up.
The stars were clearer here.
He touched the scar under his eye, feeling the pulse of that silent god's regret deep within.
And he walked on.
Toward the Scholar's City.
Toward his sister.
Toward answers.