"Garry...
Garry... wake up. It's already nine A.M."
The voice returned. It pulled him from his cozy world. He became more aware. It was time to rise and start the day.
I'm already up, Garry mumbled. He turned over in bed. He yawned. He barely opened one eye. You don't need to shout, he complained.
Silence filled the room.
Suddenly, he felt the blanket being pulled off his feet.
He sighed. He gave in. He sat up in bed.
Soft light came in through the curtains. It touched the edges of the room. It was gentle, like a visitor. Early morning was arriving outside. The sky was a light blue close to the ground. It faded to gold at the horizon. It was as if dawn was there but didn't want to be noticed.
A light fog hung over the fields far from the village. It hovered over the grass. The mountains were in the distance. They were different shades of gray and blue. The morning air made the peaks look soft. They seemed still and quiet. They looked like they'd always been there, and would be there forever.
The wind moved the leaves outside his window. He smelled damp earth and fresh grass. A bird sang a quick, clear song. Then, quiet fell again.
He could tell it would be a quiet and beautiful day. A perfect start for anything he wanted to do. Maybe he'd hike in the mountains. Or maybe he would just sit outside and read. It didn't matter. Just waking up in this place felt amazing.
Garry exhaled slowly.
"Mom," he said, rubbing his eyes, "it's not even seven A.M."
His mother stood at the doorway, arms crossed, unimpressed.
"It's your birthday," she said. "Did you forget?"
He blinked.
She tilted her head slightly, then added, "And Radec is here."
That was enough.
Garry was on his feet instantly.
---
Radec Molt was waiting outside, leaning against the wooden fence with his hands tucked into his pockets. He looked exactly the same as always—messy hair, relaxed posture, eyes lifted toward the sky as if he were quietly measuring its distance.
"Took you long enough," Radec said without looking over.
"You came early," Garry replied, stepping out into the cool morning air. "Or my mother woke me up early. One of the two."
Radec smirked. "Both can be true."
Garry shrugged. "You didn't have to come this early."
"I did," Radec said. "It's your birthday."
That earned a small smile.
They started walking without discussing it, following the familiar path that led away from the village and toward the mountain trail. The grass was still damp beneath their boots, the earth soft from dew. The world felt quiet in that particular way it only did before most people woke up.
"You nervous?" Radec asked suddenly.
Garry thought about it. "About what?"
"Turning fourteen."
He shook his head. "It doesn't feel different."
Radec laughed. "Give it time. Adults love pretending birthdays mean something."
Garry didn't respond. He didn't disagree either.
The path narrowed as they climbed, winding through trees and stone until the village shrank behind them. By the time they reached their usual spot—a flat ledge overlooking the valley—the sun had climbed just enough to warm their backs.
They sat down side by side, legs dangling over the edge.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
The wind moved freely up here, brushing past them, carrying the distant sounds of the waking world below. From this height, everything looked smaller. Less urgent.
Radec broke the silence first.
"I leave in three days."
Garry nodded. "I know."
"Soltum's supposed to be massive," Radec continued. "They say you can walk for months and still not see the same place twice."
"That sounds like you," Garry said. "Always wanting to go somewhere else."
Radec chuckled. "Says the guy who stares at the sky like it's going to answer him."
Garry didn't deny it.
After a moment, Radec asked, "You're really going to Arcaseic, right?"
"Yes."
"From next month."
"Yes."
Radec glanced at him. "Not scared?"
Garry was quiet for a few seconds.
"A little," he admitted. "Mostly curious."
"Curious about magic?"
"No."
Radec frowned. "Then what?"
Garry lifted his gaze to the sky.
"About how big the world actually is."
Radec stared at him, then shook his head. "That's a weird thing to be curious about."
"Maybe," Garry said. "But I want to see it. All of it."
He pointed upward, where a pair of birds cut across the open sky, their wings steady, effortless.
"I want to move freely," he continued. "Without worrying about borders or roads. Just… going wherever I want. Like that."
Radec followed his gaze.
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then he laughed. "That's stupid."
Garry glanced at him.
Radec grinned. "But it sounds kind of nice."
He leaned back on his hands, staring upward. "Let's do it together."
"Do what?"
"Get strong," Radec said simply. "Strong enough that the world can't stop us."
Garry smiled.
"Deal."
They didn't shake hands.
They didn't swear anything dramatic.
They just sat there, watching the sky.
---
When they finally stood to leave, Radec paused.
"When I come back," he said, not quite looking at Garry, "don't be weaker than me."
Garry answered immediately. "You better not fall behind either."
Radec laughed. "Then it's settled."
They headed back down the mountain, the village slowly growing larger with every step.
By the time Garry and Radec returned to the village, the sun had climbed higher, burning away the last traces of morning mist. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, and the narrow streets had begun to fill with familiar movement—people greeting one another, children running past with careless laughter, life continuing in its steady rhythm.
Nothing looked different.
And yet, Garry felt as though something had quietly shifted.
The house was already warm when they stepped inside. The smell of food drifted through the rooms, rich and comforting, carrying with it the faint crackle of firewood. His mother was moving about the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, hair tied loosely as always when she was busy.
"You're back," she said, glancing over her shoulder. "I was beginning to think you'd disappeared."
"We almost did," Radec said easily. "Decided to live on the mountain."
She snorted. "Then you'd be starving by tomorrow."
Radec grinned. "Worth it."
Garry washed his hands and took his seat at the table. Plates were already laid out, simple but generous. His mother placed the food in front of him without ceremony, then did the same for Radec.
"You're eating too," she told Radec. "No excuses."
"I wouldn't dare," he said, already reaching for the bread.
They ate together in comfortable noise—cutlery tapping against plates, occasional laughter, the quiet hum of a home that knew its routines well. Garry listened more than he spoke, letting the sound of voices wash over him.
At some point, his mother disappeared briefly into the other room and returned carrying a small cake. It wasn't large or decorated with anything elaborate, just a single candle placed carefully at its center.
She set it down in front of him.
"Well?" she said. "Go on."
Radec leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands. "Make it a good one."
Garry stared at the flame.
It flickered gently, small and steady, casting a warm glow across the table. For a moment, his mind was blank. No grand wish came to him. No clear desire formed.
So he closed his eyes anyway.
And blew it out.
The room filled with quiet applause and laughter.
"What'd you wish for?" Radec asked immediately.
Garry shook his head. "If I tell you, it won't come true."
Radec scoffed. "That's not how it works."
"Then why ask?"
Radec laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Happy birthday, idiot."
The rest of the evening passed simply. A few neighbors stopped by. Someone told an old story Garry had heard too many times already. The warmth of the hearth filled the room, pushing back the cool night air.
Radec lingered near the door, hands shoved into his pockets once more.
"I should go," he said.
Garry nodded. "Yeah."
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then Radec said, "Don't forget the mountain."
Garry paused, then gave a short nod. "Same to you."
And with that, he stepped out into the night.
---
Three days passed faster than Garry expected.
Radec left early in the morning, heading toward the distant road that would eventually take him beyond the region—and beyond Garry's reach, at least for now. There were no speeches. No dramatic goodbyes.
Just a brief wave.
Then he was gone.
The village felt quieter afterward.
Not empty—just… less.
Garry found himself returning to the mountain alone. He sat where they always had, legs dangling over the edge, eyes lifted toward the endless sky. Birds still crossed overhead. The wind still moved as freely as ever.
Everything was the same.
Except there was no one beside him anymore.
Days slipped by.
He helped around the house when needed. Read when he could. Sometimes he simply sat by the window in his room, watching the light shift across the fields outside as hours passed without notice.
At first, he thought he would grow bored.
He didn't.
There was a strange comfort in the silence. In the way time moved without asking anything of him. And yet, beneath it all, something restless stirred—a quiet pull toward distance, toward roads he hadn't walked yet.
A month passed.