The first light of dawn stretched over the rooftops of Cedarbrook, a quiet town in the western hills of the Kingdom of Valeria. Birds sang from rooftop edges, and a gentle breeze carried the scent of fruit trees, river water, and fresh earth. The soft golden sunlight touched the hills like a painter's brush, slowly waking the land.
Inside a small wooden hut near the edge of the market, Kael opened his eyes.
The ceiling above him was made of rough wooden beams, the same he had stared at every morning for the past ten years. He sat up slowly, listening to the wind brushing against the thatched roof.
Ten years ago, when he was just seven, he had woken up in this body—confused, with no memories of a life before that moment. No name, no face, no past. Just this quiet town, this old hut, and a world he didn't recognize.
He hadn't told anyone. In Cedarbrook, people didn't ask too many questions, especially about a quiet, hardworking boy who didn't cause trouble.
Now, at seventeen, Kael lived a simple life. He had grown tall and lean from years of work—carrying crates, chopping firewood, scrubbing floors. His black hair, often messy, fell over his storm-gray eyes, which always seemed a little more serious than others his age.
He tied his hair back with a frayed cord, splashed cold stream water onto his face, and brushed his teeth in front of a cracked mirror. Then, slipping into a plain tunic and worn boots, he stepped outside into the waking world.
Cedarbrook was small but lively. Cobblestone streets wound between wooden homes and market stalls. As the sun rose higher, vendors began setting up their carts—farmers arranging vegetables, bakers with steaming bread, and butchers sharpening their knives. The scent of herbs, flour, and smoke hung in the air.
Kael made his way to The Golden Kettle, a cozy tavern near the center of town where he worked most mornings. It was known for its simple but hearty food and its warm, homey feel.
"Morning, Kael," called out Grainer, the owner, as Kael pushed open the door. "Buckets need filling. Tilda left the broom by the back door."
"Got it," Kael replied with a nod, already stepping toward the well.
Grainer was big and round with a thick beard and a permanent scowl that didn't quite match his kind nature. He rarely smiled, but he always made sure Kael had an extra piece of bread or bowl of stew when times were tough.
Kael liked the quiet routine. The sound of bubbling stew in the kitchen, the scent of fresh bread, the warmth of the fire—it gave him peace. A purpose. Even if the past was a mystery, the present was something he could hold on to.
As the sun climbed higher and the tavern filled with the smell of breakfast, two familiar figures arrived.
"Kael!" came a loud voice. "Tell me you haven't turned into a stone block yet!"
Kael turned just in time to see Lorne, his best friend, pushing through the tavern door. Lorne was tall and lean like Kael, with sandy-blond hair and a carefree smile that rarely faded.
"You're late," Kael said, smirking.
"I had to help Ma with the chickens," Lorne said, dramatically wiping fake sweat from his brow. "They tried to eat my shoelaces. It was a battle."
Moments later, Elara walked in, carrying a small cloth-wrapped bundle in her hands. She had calm hazel eyes and dark chestnut hair tied back neatly. She was quiet, thoughtful, and often listened more than she spoke.
"Grainer told me to give you this," she said, handing the bundle to Kael. "You skipped dinner again last night."
"Thanks," Kael said, taking the warm loaf of bread with a small smile. "You didn't have to."
"We wanted to," Elara replied softly.
The three of them leaned near the open window as the morning light spilled across the wooden floor. Outside, the marketplace had come to life—children laughing, merchants shouting prices, goats bleating in the distance. The scent of spiced apples drifted in from a nearby pie stall.
Lorne tapped the windowpane with his knuckles. "You guys hear the news from Westmere village?"
"No," Kael said. "What happened?"
"Some traveler passed through," Lorne said. "They say he took a farmer's kid with him. Just picked him out and left."
"Left?" Elara asked, surprised. "As in… left the town?"
Lorne nodded. "Yeah. People are saying he was a cultivator."
Kael's eyes narrowed slightly. "Is that true?"
"That's the story," Lorne said. "Old Reyna from the bakery swears by it. Says the traveler said nothing—just looked at the boy, said 'You'll do,' and the two walked off."
"I wonder if it's real," Elara murmured. "I've heard rumors like that before."
Kael turned to her. "You know what cultivators really are?"
She gave a small nod. "They're people who train to become stronger by using spiritual energy—qi, I think it's called. They don't live like us. They join sects—sort of like schools, but for training the mind and body. Some say they live in the mountains, away from towns like ours."
"Sects?" Lorne repeated, frowning. "You mean like sword-fighting clubs?"
Elara smiled slightly. "Not quite. It's more serious. Some sects teach spiritual techniques, how to control energy, how to heal, or even sense things regular people can't."
Lorne leaned back on his stool. "So this traveler is just walking around the Western Continent picking kids to join these places?"
"It's rare," Elara replied. "They don't usually come to towns like Cedarbrook. Most of them look for talented people—those born with something special."
"Like what?" Kael asked, voice low.
"My grandmother called it 'rooted spirit'—something inside the soul that connects to qi naturally. Most people don't have it. Some are born with it, but never awaken it."
Kael fell silent, eyes drifting to the distant hills. Beyond them, he knew, lay more villages, more forests, more rivers… and eventually, the heart of the Kingdom of Valeria. The Western Continent was vast, with mountain ranges, old ruins, and places that only existed in maps and stories.
"You think they'll ever come here?" Lorne asked.
"I don't know," Kael replied. "But if they did… I might go."
Elara looked at him gently. "You've been thinking about it, haven't you?"
"A little," he said honestly. "I don't know why. Just feels like something's missing."
Lorne gave him a playful nudge. "If you leave, you better send letters. And not the boring kind."
Kael laughed softly. "Sure. No promises, though."
The three friends sat in peaceful silence for a while, listening to the wind and the chatter of the marketplace. It was an ordinary day in an ordinary town.