By a quiet stream, water slipped over smooth stones, creating a constant whisper. Ancient trees with gnarled trunks formed a dense canopy, allowing a few golden rays of light to dance on the wet foliage and rocks. A massive animal approached the water, nostrils flaring in the fresh, earthy air. Every movement betrayed instinctive caution, as if it were reading the forest's shadows.
Nearby, a man hid in a bush, perfectly still. His eyes tracked every motion, every reflection on the water. In his mind, the plan formed, precise:
No wind. The beast is exposed. I'm at a good angle… I see its head… I aim… and bammm…
He inhaled slowly, ready to act. But at that exact moment, a sudden crack—the foot of his son on a root—made the animal flinch. In an instant, it vanished into the forest, leaving behind only heavy breaths and disturbed silence.
The man let out a frustrated growl, clenching his teeth.
"Bravo… really proud of you," Malton sneered, a mocking smile playing on his lips.
"I… I warned you!" stammered Eduard, cheeks burning with frustration.
A few minutes later, Gérard Smith, the patriarch, appeared at the forest edge. His piercing eyes scanned the undergrowth as if they could penetrate every shadow.
"Well, we won't see it again today," he said, putting away his rifle. "But you'll need to teach your son to move silently. Every mistake can cost dearly in these woods."
Then Gérard turned to them:
"You scared off the dinner. Go catch some fish."
"Fish… in the river?" Eduard asked in surprise.
"Malton will go with you," Gérard replied.
"But I didn't do anything…" protested Malton.
"Yes, but you're not going to let your little brother go fishing alone," Gérard said sharply, before packing his things.
As he left, he added,
"Hurry up. Night will fall soon."
Malton shot Eduard a murderous glare, his resentment plain.
Silence fell again, broken only by the water's ripple and the rustling leaves beneath their feet. Gray vines hung from branches, thick moss covered rocks and soil, and the damp forest scent felt almost tangible—dense, alive.
The two brothers made their way toward the river, aware that every step, every breath, was part of the fragile balance between the wild and their survival.
Sunlight filtered through the trees, casting shifting patterns on the ground. The forest seemed to breathe around them, full of secrets and unseen dangers.
The trail twisted through dense undergrowth, lost beneath a carpet of fallen leaves and gnarled roots. Each of Eduard's steps cracked the damp moss, releasing the scent of fresh earth and sap. Sunbeams pierced the twisted branches, scattering golden shards on the forest floor like fragments of an ancient world. The trees seemed to whisper among themselves, their leaves trembling in the breeze, sending a shiver down Eduard's spine.
Malton walked beside him, alert, noting every movement, every rustle. He picked up a broken twig and twirled it between his fingers, throwing a teasing glance at his brother.
"You're going to get all excited and fall again, huh?"
Eduard lowered his eyes, clutching his cloak against the chill wind whistling between the trunks.
"I… I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to."
Malton shrugged, offering a small, reassuring smile.
"Hmpf… I guess I can forgive you. But watch yourself, okay?"
Finally, the trail opened onto Bar Mouth Lake. Eduard froze, captivated. The shimmering water stretched like an endless mirror, reflecting the pale blue sky dotted with fluffy clouds drifting lazily on the wind. A few fish splashed the calm surface, while a solitary heron glided gracefully, wings tracing perfect arcs above the lake.
They settled on the shore, knees pressing against cold, wet stones. Eduard let his hands slip into the clear water, shivering at its bite, and felt a rare calm settle in his mind. The stillness of the lake, the softness of the wind, the distant song of birds—everything seemed suspended, as if the world were holding its breath.
Yet his restless mind would not stay quiet. He turned to Malton, voice trembling, barely audible:
"Tell me… are you really going to tell him?"
Malton frowned and clapped a hand over his brother's mouth, eyes dark and intense.
"Shh! You promised me you'd keep the secret…"
His low, grave voice mingled with the rustling leaves:
"Because Mom… Mom wasn't just any woman. She was a swordswoman… a renowned warrior in Zestria."
Eduard's blood ran cold. His fingers, clenched on the fishing rod, trembled uncontrollably. The weight of the truth struck him like a boulder: everything their father had tried to protect by keeping them away from weapons now had a far deeper meaning.
A sudden tug made his line vibrate. Eduard pulled hard, feeling the strong resistance of a hooked fish, muscles tense and heart racing.
"Finally… a fish!" he exclaimed, momentarily forgetting the shadow over his mind.
Yet the lake, calm and glimmering, seemed to whisper something else: behind this simple reflection of sky and water lay a story—ancient, dangerous, woven with secrets, bravery, and sacrifice. A story his hands, heart, and courage would have to learn to handle carefully.
The clouds drifted faster, painting moving shadows across the sky. The wind rose, skimming the lake's surface, carrying the scent of moss and distant rain. Eduard breathed deeply, feeling his spirit fill with new energy, ready to awaken the tales of the past and carry him farther than he had ever imagined.