Arin stepped cautiously into the forest at the edge of the village, the amulet warm against his chest. Every crack of a branch and rustle of leaves made him glance around nervously. He had never traveled beyond the fields surrounding the village, and the world outside seemed vast, threatening, and full of unknown dangers.
Yet, despite the fear, there was a spark of determination in him. This was the beginning of a path that could bring hope—not only to his village but to the entire land.
Hours passed as he walked, following the narrow, winding trail through towering trees. Shadows stretched long across the ground, and distant howls echoed through the woods. Arin clutched his small sword tighter, whispering to himself:
"I have to keep going. I must find the Path of Glory."
As night fell, he made camp beneath an ancient oak. The stars shone faintly above, reminding him of the elder's warning about the shadows. Arin knew he had taken the first step toward a destiny far greater than he had ever imagined—and there was no turning back.