The Garden Of?
Chapter ten:
The outside world:
The first morning after leaving Tern, I woke before sunrise. The mist still hung low over the village, curling around the cottages and cobblestones like little ghosts. My horse shifted nervously beneath me, ears flicking, nose twitching at the cool morning air. I ran a hand through my white hair and looked back at the village one last time. Tiny lanterns still flickered in windows, and I could just barely make out the outline of Rufius standing by the fence, waving at me. I waved back, holding in the tight knot in my chest. I had promised I'd return stronger, and I had to keep that promise—not just to my brother, but to myself.
The villagers had left me some food for the road: a loaf of bread, some dried fruits, and a small pouch of salted meat. Ferexia had packed it carefully, tucking little charms and blessings between the pieces, and I carried them with reverence. Every bite reminded me of home—the warmth of the hearth, my mother's gentle voice, the sound of Rufius' laughter chasing me around the yard. I smiled faintly to myself as I mounted my horse. I could feel the faint pulse of Aether and the quiet presence of the spirits around me. They had been with me all my life, and I trusted them now more than ever.
The path out of the village wound through familiar forests and small hills. For the first day, the journey felt almost dreamlike. The sun rose slowly, painting the trees with gold, and the air smelled of wet soil and wildflowers. Birds called in the distance, and occasionally a fox darted across the path. I stayed quiet mostly, taking it all in. My mind wandered sometimes, thinking about the Royal Academy, about the challenges waiting for me, and about Rufius. I imagined him training, growing stronger, trying to be the kind of brother I had promised to meet again.
By the second evening, I found a small clearing to make camp. I tethered the horse and unpacked the food Ferexia and the villagers had given me. Sitting on a fallen log, I ate slowly, savoring each bite. The forest around me was alive in a way that was both comforting and intimidating. Leaves rustled as small creatures moved unseen, and the occasional hoot of an owl echoed from deep within the trees. I kept a hand on my sword out of habit, though nothing had threatened me yet. My heart pounded with a mix of excitement and anxiety. This was my first real step away from home, and the forest seemed to hold both promise and danger in equal measure.
Night fell slowly, and the sky turned a deep indigo. Stars began to peek through the canopy, their light filtering through leaves like tiny pinpricks of hope. I lay down near the fire, listening to the sounds of the forest—the snapping of twigs, the rustle of leaves, the distant gurgle of a stream. I thought of my parents, their voices echoing in my mind. "Trust yourself, Leif," my mother had said. "Your courage and your heart are your guides," my father had added. I closed my eyes and let the gentle warmth of the fire and the soft presence of the spirits lull me to sleep, dreaming of the Academy and of the day I would return to Tern.
The next morning, the forest opened into the beginning of Crest Forest. I had heard stories of Crest from villagers—of its beauty, its dangers, and its mysteries. As I stepped under the thick canopy, the air changed. It was cooler, filled with the scent of moss and wildflowers. Sunlight streamed through gaps in the leaves, casting moving patterns on the forest floor. Birds of every color darted above, and small animals scurried through the underbrush. It felt alive, almost as if the forest was watching me, waiting for me to prove I belonged here.
The days in Crest were long and tiring. The path was uneven, roots twisted underfoot, and streams crossed the trail at unpredictable points. I learned to move carefully, reading the land like I read the movements of an opponent in training. Every step demanded attention, patience, and endurance. Sometimes, I would take breaks near small clearings, eating the rations Ferexia had packed and drinking water from clean streams. The forest was breathtaking, but it was also unforgiving. I had to be careful of my footing, watch for hidden roots, slippery moss, and occasionally venomous creatures.
The spirits that followed me whispered guidance, their voices soft in my mind. A small spirit would hover near my shoulder, nudging me away from a hidden snake or warning me of unstable ground. It was strange to think that even in a forest filled with life and danger, I wasn't truly alone. I let the Aether flow through me, feeling it pulse in rhythm with the forest itself. I began to notice the subtle patterns—the way the sunlight shifted as clouds moved, the way birds called differently depending on what was near, the tiny changes in air currents that hinted at streams or hidden cliffs.
Rufius came to mind often during those days. I imagined him in Tern, trying to sneak pranks on villagers or chasing after small animals, laughing like he always did. I hoped he was training, as I had asked, even if he couldn't yet understand the depth of what I was preparing for. The thought of him made me push harder, walk farther, and remain vigilant. Every day brought me closer to the capital, and closer to the next stage of my life, but also further from home.
By the third day, Crest Forest had begun to feel less intimidating. I had learned its rhythms and patterns. I could predict where the streams would cross, where the ground would give way, and where animals would likely appear. Birds had begun to recognize me as a harmless presence, sometimes perching on nearby branches as I rested or ate. The flowers were vibrant, reds, yellows, blues, and purples creating a tapestry on the forest floor. Small deer grazed in clearings, their ears twitching at my movements, yet rarely fleeing immediately. I felt connected to everything in the forest in a way I hadn't expected. It was as if every creature and plant were part of a larger system, and I had learned, through observation and patience, how to respect it and move within it.
Evenings were my favorite. I set up camp in small clearings where I could see the sky. The lanterns from the villages were gone, replaced by fireflies and the glow of the moon. I ate quietly, sometimes speaking to the spirits, sometimes letting my mind wander to Tern. I imagined Rufius following a mischievous trail he'd set for himself, trying to prove he could be clever and strong. I imagined Airen polishing my sword in the training yard, murmuring reminders of discipline, and Ferexia cooking meals and telling me to rest properly. The thought of home made the nights both comforting and a little lonely.
By the fifth day, I reached the heart of Crest Forest. The canopy was dense, sunlight barely touching the ground, and the sounds of the forest were louder, almost overwhelming. Insects buzzed constantly, birds called in a complicated chorus, and small animals scurried in every direction. I had grown stronger, more confident, and more aware of my abilities. The Aethersteel responded smoothly to my movements as I navigated tricky terrain. Spirits guided me, and I felt their presence like a steady heartbeat around me. Crest Forest was no longer just a path; it had become a test, a living trial that I had survived and learned from.
I camped that night near a small stream, the water reflecting the dim light of the moon. I cleaned my sword, ate the last of Ferexia's rations, and allowed myself a rare moment of reflection. I had come far, both physically and mentally, in just a few days. I had learned patience, observation, and how to trust my instincts. I had learned that strength wasn't just about power—it was about awareness, care, and connection. I thought of Rufius again, smiling at the thought of him chasing after mischief in the village. I promised silently that I would return stronger, that I would be the brother he could look up to and the protector he deserved.
The next morning, Crest began to thin, the dense trees giving way to rolling hills and open fields. The path ahead looked more familiar in some ways, but I knew that the journey was far from over. I had traveled five days, and there were still many ahead before I reached the Royal Capital. Each day brought new challenges: crossing streams, climbing hills, avoiding wild animals, and navigating the terrain. But I felt confident, calm, and ready. My body and mind had grown stronger from the journey itself, and I carried the lessons of the forest with me.
I thought often of the village, of Airen and Ferexia, of Rufius's mischievous grin, and the warmth of home. Every step forward was a step into the unknown, but I carried the strength, the love, and the guidance of my family with me. I was ready to face whatever lay ahead, to continue growing, and to one day return stronger than I had ever been.