Beneath a cloudless azure sky, the sun-drenched the semi-arid grasslands in its golden embrace, casting long shadows over the undulating terrain. On a rocky hill, a lone acacia tree stood sentinel, its gnarled trunk weathered by countless seasons. Beneath its sparse shade sat a young boy, his brown hair tousled by the arid breeze. A shepherd's crook lay across his shoulder, the polished wood gleaming faintly in the sunlight.
The land stretched vast and untamed before him, its desolation interrupted only by patches of stubborn grass where his flock grazed in tranquil harmony. The boy rested against the tree's rough bark, his eyes closed and his breathing calm as he dozed in the lingering coolness of the morning.
The breeze carried whispers of distant lands and the faint aroma of wildflowers, teasing his senses as it wound its way through the dry air. The wind shifted, growing livelier, ruffling his hair, and brushing against his skin like a gentle nudge from an unseen hand. Slowly, it stirred him from his slumber.
Asher opened his eyes, warm brown meeting the endless blue above. The soft bleats of his sheep reached his ears, mingling with the quiet hum of the land. He sat still for a moment, taking in the rustle of the leaves above, the sunlight dappling through the sparse branches and the unbroken peace of his surroundings.
He stretched, yawning as the last traces of sleep left him. Then, scratching the back of his head, he grinned sheepishly. I fell asleep. That rarely happened. He was always careful, always vigilant. Yet the stillness of the morning, the gentle breeze, and the warmth of the sun must have lulled him into a moment of rest.
He stood, his crook in hand, and moved toward the flock. The first task was always the same: count them. Holding his crook horizontally, he let the sheep pass beneath it one by one. "One, two, three…" His eyes scanned each one, with practiced care. "Lastly, one hundred and five."
Relief settled over him, a quiet smile curving his lips. Not a single one lost.
The day passed in steady rhythm. Asher tended his flock, his hands gentle but sure as he cared for the sick and watched for signs of predators. The sun climbed higher, painting the land in harsh brilliance. When the sheep grew restless, he knew it was time to move.
He gazed toward the horizon, where the winding river shimmered like a distant promise. We'll go before the heat becomes unbearable.
The flock began their slow journey. And though his life was simple, there was a quiet contentment in it — a sense of purpose that filled the air like the warmth of the sun.
***
Nestled between rugged hills and the winding river that carved life into the barren land, Jordan Village lay hidden from the outside world. To the west dry plains stretched endlessly, while to the east, towering cliffs marked the edge of the Great wasteland. The land was harsh but fertile, a rare gift carved from dust and stone.
The village itself stood as a fortress of stone and pride, its massive walls rising against the encroaching wilderness. Watchtowers loomed like silent sentinels, and beyond them stretched smaller settlements — mortal villages scattered like fallen leaves, their wooden defenses weathered and worn.
Asher's village was one of these a small cluster of homes and fields surrounded by weathered wooden walls. Life here was harsh, but it was still life filled with the warmth of shared burdens and simple joys.
Dust clung to his sandals as he guided his flock through the village gate, penning them in the sheepfold with practiced ease. His work done, Asher, made his way toward the village's heart.
Children's laughter filled the air, their voices rising as they raced through the streets. The scent of baking bread and roasting meat drifted from the market, and the murmur of conversation wrapped around him like a familiar embrace.
"Asher!" A group of children raced toward him as he entered the village, their faces lighting up.
He laughed, crouching as they swarmed him. "What's this? An ambush? I'm doomed!"
"Let's play!" They said playfully, tugging at his sleeves.
"Later, later," Asher said with a grin. "I still have to help Elder Elon he'll scold me if I'm late."
The children groaned in disappointment but let him go, and Asher ruffled the nearest head before making his way toward the market.
Villagers greeted him warmly as he passed. "Good afternoon, Asher!" They called, their smiles genuine. Of course he returned their greetings.
The market bustled with life. Merchants called out their wares, villagers haggled over prices, and the smell of spices and fresh fruit filled the air.
At one of the stalls, an old man hunched over his stall, arranging jars of honey and baskets of dried figs with slow, careful movements.
"Elder, let me help," Asher stepped forward without waiting for a response.
Elon grunted but didn't stop him. "You're late, boy."
"The flock was restless today," Asher replied his tone light. "Maybe they knew you'd be waiting with that sour look."
The old man snorted, though his eyes gleamed with humor. "Sour, am I? You'll see sour when you're my age."
They worked in tandem, Asher's lively energy drawing villagers to the stall. He haggled and charmed his easy laughter, making the goods seem more enticing than any words could. Slowly, the baskets emptied.
"You could sell sand in a desert, Asher." Elon shook his head with a chuckle as another customer walked away, smiling.
Asher only grinned. "It's a gift."
The sun dipped lower, casting golden light over the village. As they finished, Elon eased himself onto a stool with a satisfied sigh. "You've got your mother's kindness, you know."
The smile on Asher's face faltered, tightening at the edges. "Do I?" he asked lightly, though his throat felt tight.
Elon nodded. "You listen. You help, even when no one asks. She was the same. She'd be proud of the man you're becoming."
Asher swallowed hard. "Thank you," he whispered.
Before the moment could grow too heavy, a blur of movement caught his eye. A small hand darted toward the basket of figs.
"Oi!" Asher called. "Eli!"
The boy froze, cheeks already bulging with his stolen prize. Then, with a guilty squeak, he bolted.
Asher gave chase, weaving through the crowd. "You're fast, but not faster than me!"
Eli's laughter mixed with his panting as they raced through the market. Just when it seemed the boy might escape, Asher lunged, catching him by the arm.
"Caught you," Asher teased. "Stealing again? What am I going to do with you?"
"I was hungry!" Eli protested, squirming. "You wouldn't let me starve, would you?"
Asher raised an eyebrow. "Starve? With those chubby cheeks?"
Eli gasped, scandalized. "That's mean!"
Before Asher could respond, the boy twisted free and ran straight into something solid.
No someone.
The market fell silent.
The figure turned, his embroidered robes and polished sash unmistakable. A Mystic.
"You dare touch me, mortal?" His voice colder, his eyes colder.
Eli trembled, tears welling. "I-I didn't mean..."
Asher moved without thinking, stepping between them and bowing deeply. "Forgive him, my lord. He's just a child. He meant no harm."
The Mystic's sneer deepened. "No harm? Your kind never means harm. Yet you grow bolder with every passing day."
He turned, with a final parting shot. "Remember this: you mortals will always crawl in the dirt, tools at our expense. You'll never amount to anything more."
The words hung heavy in the air. The villagers stood frozen, their fear palpable.
Asher kept his head bowed, his fists clenched at his sides.
When the Mystic finally disappeared, he turned back to Eli - the boy's shoulders shaking with quiet sobs.
Asher knelt beside him. "Hey now." He said softly, ruffling the boy's head. "That was exciting, wasn't it?"
Eli blinked up at him, his face streaked with tears. "Asher…?"
"You know," Asher continued, his grin widening, "If you wanted me to run like that, you could've just asked. Next time, maybe a goat or the whole flock! You could lead an army of sheep charging through the market."
For a moment, there was silence.
Then a giggle.
The tension broke. Laughter spread through the gathered villagers, soft and warm. Eli's tears dried, his smile returning.
The comforting words and laughter began to spread. A few other villagers, drawn in by the scene, gathered around, sharing lighthearted chuckles.
Eli's tears slowly stopped, replaced with small, hiccuping laughs. His tense shoulders relaxed, and he looked up at Asher with a new, bright smile.
"See?" Asher said, his voice gentle. "There's no reason to cry. You're not alone, little thief."
Asher stood, his heart lighter. And for a fleeting moment, despite the weight of the world pressing down on them, there was joy.
Elon, who had been quietly watching from the side, couldn't help but smile. He'd seen Asher do this before lift the spirits of those around him with nothing but a few words and that infectious grin. It was a sight that never failed to bring a sense of peace to the village.
***
The evening had arrived. He entered his small home on the village outskirts, the night air still and heavy as he closed the door behind him. He walked across the room, his steps slow, his thoughts heavy, and finally sank down onto the floor, his back leaning against the wall with his staff next to him.
Through the small window, the pale crescent moon cast its cold glow into the room, lighting the floor around him in silver streaks. The quiet glow was gentle, yet distant - a reminder of all that lay beyond his reach.
He sat there in the moonlight, his chest heavy with the weight of the Mystic's words, still echoing in his mind. "You'll never amount to anything more."
"Will I ever be free?" He asked himself. Would he ever see the outside world? Would he ever have an adventure? Would he ever know freedom like the fairy tales his mother used to tell him.
He closed his eyes tightly he wasn't just a shepherd. He wasn't just a boy stuck in this small, suffocating village. He was more than that. He wanted to be more than that. I want to be free... I want adventure.
But the truth settled heavily in his chest. He would never get that. His fate had already been decided for him, locked in place by the very people who held power over him. And he… he was nothing.
For what felt like an eternity, Asher stayed there in the moonlight, silent. His body shook slightly with each breath, the weight of his longing bearing down on him.
The room felt cold now, the moonlight almost indifferent to his pain. But Asher kept his focus on the quiet silence around him, forcing himself to breathe deeply, to steady his heart. He wasn't allowed to fall apart.
But before he could even settle into the thought, a deafening roar shattered the stillness of the night. The ground beneath his feet trembled as if the world itself was shaking in terror. His heart skipped a beat, his breath caught in his throat as distant screams reached his ears. He bolted to his feet, panic surging through him, and without thinking, he rushed to the door. The night sky once calm now churned with chaos.
The village. His village.
The beast tide had arrived.
He froze, his breath caught in his throat as his mind struggled to process what he was seeing. The village was under attack, burning, crumbling. Chaos and destruction filled the air - the peaceful life he had known. The life he'd accepted as his fate was ending in the blink of an eye.
The flames flickered like a living nightmare, the screams rising from every corner of the village. His heart pounded in his chest, his body frozen as if some part of him refused to believe what was happening.
Asher stood there, eyes wide, unable to move, unable to comprehend. He had always known the world was cruel, but this? This was beyond anything he could have imagined.
His peaceful life has ended.
The nightmare had just begun.