The morning sun cast a golden hue across the fields, illuminating the small village of Briarwood. Arin rose from his bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as the familiar sounds of farm life filled the air. The roosters crowed, cows lowed in the distance, and the scent of freshly baked bread wafted from the kitchen, where his mother was already at work.
As he dressed, Arin's mind lingered on the strange encounter in the forest the day before. The memory of the mysterious man's words haunted him, but the comforting routine of the morning offered a welcome distraction. He pulled on his worn boots and headed to the kitchen, where his mother was slicing bread.
"Morning, Arin," she greeted him with a warm smile. "Hungry?"
"Starving," Arin replied, forcing a smile in return. He sat at the small wooden table as his mother placed a plate of bread and cheese before him.
His mother studied him for a moment. "You seem quiet this morning. Did something happen yesterday?"
Arin hesitated, unsure of how much to share. "Nothing much, just… tired, I guess."
She gave him a knowing look but didn't press further. "Well, your father's waiting for you outside. He said something about fixing the barn roof today."
Arin nodded, grabbing a piece of bread as he stood. "I'll be out in a minute."
Outside, his father was already hard at work, inspecting the roof for damage. Arin joined him, the morning air still cool on his skin.
"Ready to help?" his father asked, looking up from his work.
"Yeah," Arin replied, though his thoughts were elsewhere.
As they worked, Arin found himself glancing at his father, wondering what he would think of the strange birthmark, now glowing faintly beneath the bandage. Finally, he gathered the courage to speak.
"Dad, do you believe in prophecies?"
His father paused, considering the question. "Prophecies, huh? Well, I suppose they're out there, but I've never put much stock in them. Why do you ask?"
Arin shrugged, trying to sound casual. "I don't know. Just something I've been thinking about."
His father gave him a curious look but didn't press the issue. "Well, it's best not to get caught up in things you can't control. We've got enough to worry about right here."
Arin nodded, though his father's words did little to ease his mind. They worked in silence for a while, the rhythm of their labor familiar and steady.
Later, as the sun climbed higher in the sky, Arin and his father took a break under the old oak tree. They sat together, sharing a simple meal of bread and cheese.
"Arin," his father began, breaking the silence, "you've been distracted all morning. Is there something you want to talk about?"
Arin looked down at his hands, unsure of how to put his thoughts into words. "It's just… sometimes I feel like there's more out there, you know? Like I'm meant for something bigger than this."
His father was quiet for a moment, then placed a reassuring hand on Arin's shoulder. "We all wonder about that at some point, but don't let those thoughts pull you away from what's important. You have a good life here, and there's honor in that."
Arin wanted to believe him, but the strange encounter in the forest had left him with more questions than answers. "I know, but… what if there's something more?"
His father sighed, his expression softening. "If there is, you'll find it in time. But for now, let's focus on what we can do here, together."
Arin nodded, though the uncertainty still gnawed at him. They finished their meal in companionable silence, and then returned to their work.
As the day wore on, the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the fields. Arin's mother called them in for supper, and the warm, familiar scent of stew greeted them as they entered the house.
"Smells good, Ma," Arin said as he sat at the table.
His mother smiled, ladling out portions for everyone. "I made your favorite tonight. Thought you could use a little cheering up."
Arin managed a genuine smile this time. "Thanks, Ma. It's perfect."
As they ate, the conversation turned to the usual topics—weather, the crops, the coming harvest—but Arin's thoughts were elsewhere. His parents' voices seemed distant, the weight of the birthmark and the prophecy pressing heavily on his mind.
After supper, as his parents cleaned up, Arin slipped outside to sit under the stars. The cool night air was a welcome relief, but it did little to quiet his thoughts. He traced the outline of the birthmark, feeling its warmth through the bandage.
His mother joined him after a while, sitting beside him on the porch steps. "It's a clear night," she said softly. "You can see all the stars."
"Yeah," Arin replied, his voice barely above a whisper.
She looked at him, her expression gentle. "Arin, whatever's on your mind, you don't have to carry it alone. You can always talk to us."
Arin hesitated, then finally spoke. "It's just… I don't know what's happening to me. This birthmark, it's glowing, and I don't know what it means."
His mother's eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly composed herself. "Glowing? When did this start?"
"Yesterday," Arin admitted. "After I met someone in the forest. He said things… things I don't understand."
His mother reached out, taking his hand in hers. "We'll figure this out, Arin. Whatever it is, you're not alone."
Arin felt a wave of relief at her words. "Thanks, Ma."
She smiled, squeezing his hand gently. "Now, get some rest. Tomorrow's another day, and we'll face it together."
Arin nodded, feeling a little lighter as he headed inside. He knew the questions and uncertainties wouldn't disappear overnight, but with his family by his side, he felt more ready to face whatever lay ahead.
That night, sleep came a little easier, though his dreams were still filled with visions of dragons and knights. But now, those dreams seemed less daunting, as if the weight of the world wasn't his alone to bear.