The hills rolled like waves of green silk beneath the summer sun. Wind swept across them in gentle currents, bending the tall grasses so they shimmered like water. Atop one of those hills, a boy stood with a crook in hand, his sheep scattered around him like flecks of wool upon the earth.
His name was Kael.
To most who passed through the little mountain village of Branthollow, he was just another shepherd boy—barefoot, wild-haired, and quick with a laugh. But those who knew him better often remarked that there was something different about Kael. His strength, for one, was unusual. He could carry two grown sheep over his shoulders without strain. His endurance seemed unending; he could chase after lost lambs from sunrise to dusk and still come home whistling. Yet Kael himself paid no mind to such talk. To him, life was simple: tend the flock, protect them from wolves, and return home to his family's hearth when the sky turned gold.
That evening, as the sun slid low and painted the hills in fire, Kael guided his flock down toward the village. The smell of cooking fires drifted in the air—stew of root vegetables, roasting game, and the sweet scent of baked loaves. Children ran barefoot in the dust, and old men smoked their pipes outside the tavern, their laughter rising with the smoke.
"Kael!" A voice rang out. His younger sister, Mira, darted from the cottage door, her braid bouncing against her back. "Mother says supper's ready, and if you don't hurry, Darin will eat it all!"
Kael chuckled, giving the sheep a final whistle to corral them toward their pen. "Tell Darin he can have my share—if he can take it from me."
Inside the cottage, warmth enveloped him. His mother, a strong woman with kind eyes, stirred the pot while Darin, his younger brother, tore bread with both hands as if it might vanish if he didn't eat it fast enough. Their father, weary from a day of chopping wood, sat with a mug of cider, smiling faintly as his children bickered.
Life was not rich in Branthollow, but it was full. Kael needed no more than this.
And yet—sometimes, when the stars wheeled above the quiet hills and the world seemed vast and unknowable, he felt it. A stirring. A whisper in the back of his mind, like the earth itself was calling to him.
That night, he lay awake long after his family slept. Through the window, the sky shimmered with countless stars. His gaze fixed on the horizon where the capital city, far beyond the hills, lay hidden. He had never seen it, though he had heard the tales: towers of white stone, markets filled with spices from every corner of the realm, and at its heart, the royal palace where the princess dwelt.
Kael's lips curved into a faint smile. "One day," he murmured, "I'll see it for myself."
He did not know then that his wish was about to be answered—far sooner, and in a way far greater, than he could ever imagine.