Pale dawn light crept in through the windows as Rey rummaged through his supplies and equipment. Meticulously, he laid out various small pouches, jars, and vials filled with reagents, potions, and enchanted stones. Their precise arrangement displayed an almost compulsive need for order.
Memories flickered in Rey's mind as he moved his hand. From a young age, he had been lauded as a genius in the arcane arts, a true prodigy. At the academy, praise and accolades rained down upon him constantly.
"You're potential in arcane art is limitless," they would say.
Even now, at only 24 years old and freshly graduated, Rey could still hear those voices echoing in his head. Such lofty words both fueled and burdened him with expectations of accomplishments.
He gathered coils of bandages and small medical tools next, placing them in one of the belt pouches with careful precision. Rey knew all too well the dangers he would face probing the depths of the wild forest alone.
That gnawed at his confidence, the memory of having to flee in terror. He had always been arrogant about his natural arcane might. Yet that single event where he was forced to flee helplessly shook him profoundly.
What if I'm not as strong as they claimed? What if my full power is still woefully inadequate?
Rey's hands paused as unwelcome doubts crept into his mind. His eyes narrowed, fists clenching. No, such a thought was unacceptable! He had mastered arcane arts that would leave most seasoned arcanists in awe.
Angrily, Rey resumed his preparations. He grabbed rolls of bandages, and small vials of antiseptics, adding them hastily to his travel pack. His meticulous motions had become stiff and hurried in his agitated state.
"You arrogant hypocrite!" Rey spat to himself under his breath. He knows too well that none of this is about saving that child.
His action is nothing but a thin veil to mask his growing self-doubt. All his determination now stemmed from wanting to validate his abilities.
Rey cinched the travel pack closed with excessive force, the academy symbols etched into the leather straining against the tension. He then turned to grab his long, flowing mystic robes draped on a nearby coat rack. Each motion brimmed with frustration as he shrugged into the folds of red and black cloth.
Standing before the oak door leading outside, Rey took a deep, steadying breath. He remained resolute to venture once more into the gloomy forest.
Opening up the door, he froze in surprise. There, standing stern and unmoving on the doorstep, was an older man adorned in rugged hunter leathers. Streaks of grey ran through his long hair. Tucked firmly into his belt was a thick wooden stave. It was none other than the veteran hunter, Drias.
***
The modest, two-story wooden home stood silent and still. Inside, Aria sat alone in the sparsely furnished living room, shoulders hunched and tired eyes fixed distantly. Only a few meager furnishings occupied the cramped space - a worn table with mismatched chairs, and a threadbare rug covering the rough wooden floors. Yet Aria saw none of it, heedless of her surroundings.
For days now she had remained in that very spot, moving only when exhaustion forced her to move upstairs for restless sleep. When night inevitably passed and morning's pale light streamed through the curtains, she would resume her silent, drawn vigil amid the empty chairs and dusty table.
"Rushia..." Aria murmured, the name barely a whisper on cracked lips. Unshed tears burned her eyes as panic and sorrow threatened to overwhelm her thoughts yet again.
"Please come back...please come home..." she pleaded to the stillness. But only oppressive silence answered. Aria had wept so many tears over the past days, that she feared her tears had finally run dry.
On the surface, Rushia seemed an unremarkable, even foolish young girl with nothing extraordinary to make anyone proud.
Yet despite Rushia's shortcomings, Aria loved her dearly. Rushia was her sole source of purpose, her only reason to persevere through each bleak day of poverty and hardship.
Aria thought back to the circumstances leading to Rushia's birth so many years ago. She had been the privileged daughter of a wealthy merchant family, afforded every luxury as a young woman of beauty and grace. But a foolish, forbidden dalliance with a nobleman's son left her unexpectedly with a child.
When the truth came to light, Aria's shamed family responded swiftly. She was disowned, banished from their household and her identity revoked. To merchants, reputation was everything. Even the nobleman's son who so ardently courted and bedded Aria wanted nothing more to do with her or the bastard child once the scandal broke.
And so young Aria found herself alone, penniless, and carrying the burden of shameful pregnancy. Without identification, she was barred from seeking employment. She eventually wandered to the distant border town where questions about her past were rarely asked.
It was in those remote regions that Rushia entered the world in a destitute, ramshackle leftover house - a crying baby born to a sobbing teenage mother with nothing to call her own save. Rushia was everything Aria had left.
In those early difficult years, Aria's naturally bright and cheerful daughter became her sole reason for persevering, her one source of light and strength. Rushia clung to her devoted and loving, carving out moments of joy even when food and shelter were scarce.
The energetic girl looked at their poverty with endless optimism, always smiling and finding small happiness. When they had only scraps to eat, Rushia would insist Aria take the larger portion. If Aria fell ill, her naive yet well-meaning daughter would tend to her as best she could while proclaiming, that the knight must take care of the queen. Aria, without knowing, now relied on Rushia's childish fortitude and cheer to push forward each day.
"Rushia is alive...," Aria muttered to herself. "She is...my little knight after all..."
Despair weighted her voice into a resigned monotone. Without Rushia's pure radiance in her world, what point was there to persist through the destitution any longer? The fantasy-obsessed girl was the only thing keeping Aria's spirit alight in the gloom.
With a heavy heart, Aria rose from her pitiful chair to trudge back upstairs for another sleepless night. Time blurred into a meaningless haze of waiting and hoping against dwindling faith. All she could do was hold vigil, praying for her daughter's bright face to return.
***
Rey froze in the doorway as his eyes fell upon the grim-faced hunter waiting silently on his doorstep.
"Out of my way," Rey snapped impatiently, trying to push past the older man. But Drias didn't budge an inch, his weathered features set with rigid determination.
"I will not leave until we've had words," Drias stated flatly. His voice seemed to carry some weight.
"Then speak your piece and be gone," Rey huffed. He couldn't keep the bitter frustration from creeping into his tone. This pointless conversation was only delaying his return to the forest.
Drias shook his head. "You know deep down further searching is futile. That poor girl is beyond our reach now."
The blunt answer hit Rey like a physical blow, despite his own suspicions. "What would you have me do, then?" he shouted angrily. "Sit idle and let my uselessness consume me?"
Drias placed a hand on Rey's shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. "Let's talk about it inside."
"Fine!" Rey found himself reluctantly guiding the seasoned hunter through the modest home's threshold and into the dimly lit interior beyond.
Although Rey has a hard time acknowledging others, through many expeditions in the woods under Drias's guidance, he had seen firsthand the veteran hunter's unyielding composure and instincts sharper than any blade.
The two settled at a small wooden table surrounded by maps, tomes, and various miscellaneous items from Rey's arcane studies. The home was sparsely furnished but orderly, reflecting its owner's focused pragmatism.
Drias leaned back, "You are still angry over that day in the forest. It weighs heavily, but you must see reason, Rey. We fled because we had no other choice."
Rey bristled at the older man's words, even knowing they rang true. "If I had only acted sooner, unleashed my full arcane power-"
Drias silenced him with an upraised palm. "No. When you attempted to summon your arcane fires, nothing transpired, I could feel it. Even I, whose detection skills stem from tapping into arcs, found my abilities simply...nullified."
The seasoned hunter's brow creased in consternation. "Looking back, I realize now that beast seemed to radiate an unnatural force that robbed us of our arcs entirely."
Rey felt a surge of both panic and awe. "To negate our connection to our arcs? Such a thing should be impossible!"
Drias nodded grimly. "Our strength as the lower species comes from accessing over those arcs. Without it..." he trailed off meaningfully.
They both understood the implication. If whatever malevolent power they encountered could truly strip away Arc's capabilities, then humanity was left as feeble and defenseless as any common animal.
Rey sank back in his chair, gripped by dread. "Then we are as helpless as rabbits against such a monster."
"Indeed. Which is why we must inform the others at once before more bloodshed occurs," Drias declared. "If that monster is still there in the forest, a mere arc user like me and you are clearly insufficient. We must discuss this matter to seek help from other forces."
***
Rushia's eyes fluttered open, squinting against the morning sunlight filtering through the trees. She sat up, recalling the events of the previous day - becoming lost in the unfamiliar woods, taking shelter from the storm, and her newfound companion residing within her mind.
"Good morning, Mr. Berry!" she announced cheerfully. "Are you ready for another day of questing and adventure?"
"Affirmative," Berry's flat, disembodied voice replied inside Rushia's head.
Giggling at his blunt response, Rushia stood up and began brushing leaves and dirt from her simple dress. Her stomach let out a loud rumble, reminding her how long it had been since her last meal.
"I do hope we can find some berries or mushrooms soon," she mused, patting her rumbling stomach.
As if on cue, a cluster of bright red berries caught her eye, nestled among the bushes a short distance away. Rushia clapped her hands excitedly and scampered over, plucking a few of the ripe morsels and popping them into her mouth. The sweet, tangy flavor burst on her tongue, and she let out a contented sigh.
"Delicious!" she exclaimed. "Mr. Berry, do you know what these are called?"
"Negative," Berry responded flatly. "I do not possess such information."
"Oh, my dear squire, we must fix this!" Rushia declared. She held up one of the berries, examining it closely. "These are called berries, like your name. They have a lovely tartness to them, don't you think?"
"I cannot provide an assessment," Berry replied. "I do not have the capacity to taste or experience flavors."
Rushia blinked, considering this for a moment. "You're quite right, Mr. Berry. I suppose since you're just a voice in my head, you can't actually taste anything." She paused, then broke into a grin. "But that just means I'll have to be your taste buds!"
She popped another lingonberry into her mouth, savoring the flavor. "Mmm, delightful. Ah, but Mr. Berry, can you see what I am seeing?"
"Affirmative," Berry acknowledged. "I recently acquired the capacity to perceive the visual information you receive."
"Splendid!" Rushia giggled, twirling around with her arms outstretched. "Then we can experience this adventure together!"
As she turned, her gaze fell upon a nearby tree trunk, where she noticed some familiar markings carved into the bark. She skipped over, craning her neck to examine the symbols.
"Ah, Mr. Berry, look! It's the language of Lua that Mother taught me," she explained. "Let me see if I can read it."
Rushia squinted, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Hmm... W-O-L-F... Wolf!" she exclaimed triumphantly. "This tree warns of wolves nearby!"
"I do not have knowledge of Lua language," Berry's voice intoned. "However, I can retain the information you provide."
Rushia nodded enthusiastically. "Good, good! Once I teach you, your knowledge shall become truly formidable!"
As she walked, Rushia kept up a near-constant stream of chatter, telling stories and recounting memories. At times she would pause to grab a handful of familiar food from a deadfall log, always making sure to explain to Berry what they were and their purpose. Though her internal companion's responses never varied from dry monotone acknowledgments, Rushia felt energized simply having someone - or something - to talk to. Berry was a rapt listener.
"...and that is how I devised the name Murakan for my sword!" Rushia was saying proudly, fondly caressing the worn wood stick at her side. "An honorable name passed through knightly generations!"
"I have retained all information you have provided thus far," Berry's voice stated in her mind.
Rushia beamed with joy at having such a capable minion to impart her wisdom upon. "Excellent! Your retention abilities are astonishing, Mr. Berry. We will make a fine pair of heroic knights, you and I!"
She began humming a cheerful tune as they continued through the tranquil forest. Despite being utterly alone, Rushia found herself filled with innocent optimism. Somehow, she knew her quest to find her home would prevail through the sheer force of childlike determination.