The impact sent shockwaves through the ground, scattering the dry leaves in a whirlwind. The wolf yelped in agony as its body crumpled against the tree, the force too great for even its formidable size to withstand. It lay there, struggling to rise, its breath laboured, until the last flicker of life faded from its eyes.
Arcanos stood frozen, his outstretched hand still quivering, watching as the wolf's body fell still. The forest returned to its uneasy quiet, the wind settling into a whisper once more. The great beast lay defeated, a testament to the raw, untapped power Arcanos had unknowingly unleashed.
He lowered his hand slowly, still disbelieving what had just occurred. He had faced death itself in the form of that monstrous predator, yet somehow, some unknown force within him had triumphed. His heart raced, not from fear now, but from the rush of power that pulsed through his veins.
Arcanos stepped forward cautiously, his gaze fixed on the lifeless body of the wolf, as though expecting it to stir once more. But it was truly dead, its massive form a reminder of the danger that lurked within the forest. He knelt beside it, placing a hand on the coarse fur, feeling the cold stillness that had overtaken the beast.
The forest had fallen silent once more, but Arcanos knew this peace was fleeting. He had tapped into something dangerous, something he didn't yet understand. This was no mere stroke of luck—it was power. Power that had saved his life. Power that could change the course of his destiny.
But what frightened him most wasn't the beast he had slain. It was the beast he felt awakening within himself.
Arcanos stood rooted to the spot, his breath shallow, his heart pounding in his chest. He could scarcely believe what had just transpired. His eyes fixated on the lifeless wolf, the once-mighty predator reduced to a motionless heap at his feet. The shock of what he had done washed over him in waves, leaving him feeling unmoored from reality."What have you just done... you've got magic."A voice, low and steady, rose from the shadows, cutting through the silence. Arcanos whipped his head around, his pulse quickening as he scanned the trees. There, partially hidden behind a broad oak, stood a figure. The man was watching him, eyes gleaming with curiosity.Panic surged through Arcanos. If someone had seen what he had done—witnessed the raw magic he had wielded—he would surely be branded a sorcerer. In Khyronia, whispers of witchcraft often led to mobs, torches, and lynchings. No one understood magic, and what they did not understand, they feared.Without thinking, Arcanos turned and bolted, his feet pounding against the forest floor as he tried to flee. The figure behind him did not give chase, but something else did.As he ran, a sudden force yanked at his leg. He stumbled, nearly crashing face-first into the dirt. Looking down, he saw a thick fig vine coiling around his ankle. At first, he thought it was a snake, the way it writhed and tightened its grip on him. But it wasn't. The vine, as though alive, began to pull him back towards the trees. He struggled, kicking and thrashing, but its hold was unnervingly strong. Fear gripped him tighter than the vine itself."Let me go!" Arcanos shouted, his voice trembling with terror.
*****************
The figure stepped from the shadows, moving towards him with measured calm. The boy was no older than Arcanos himself—perhaps even the same age. He had a striking, innocent appearance, his sharp features framed by dark, tousled hair. His eyes, though kind, held a depth of knowledge far beyond his years."Don't be afraid," the boy said in a soothing tone. He made a small gesture with his hand, and instantly, the vine slackened its grip. Arcanos staggered backwards, his heart still racing as he faced the stranger."I didn't mean to frighten you," the boy continued. "But you mustn't run. Not after what you've just done."Arcanos eyed him warily, still breathing heavily from his attempted escape. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice edged with both suspicion and fear."My name is Modred," the boy said, extending his hand. "I'm like you—a sorcerer."Arcanos didn't move. The word sorcerer hung in the air between them, heavy and dangerous. "I'm no sorcerer," Arcanos muttered, his eyes narrowing. "I don't even know what I am."Modred tilted his head slightly, his gaze softening with understanding. "You're still discovering your power, I see. But it's there. I felt it from miles away, and I followed the trail of your magic here. You're not alone in this, Arcanos."Arcanos stiffened at the mention of his name. How could this stranger know who he was? And how had he even found him? "What do you want from me?" he asked, glancing nervously at the still lifeless wolf behind him."I don't want anything from you," Modred said with a small, reassuring smile. "But I can help you understand what's happening to you. You're not the only one with this kind of power. It's dangerous to wander these woods without knowing how to control it."Arcanos hesitated. Something about Modred was unsettling, yet oddly comforting. He could feel a pull towards him, as though this mysterious boy was the only person who could offer him the answers he so desperately sought. "What are you, then?" Arcanos asked cautiously. "A sorcerer too?"Modred nodded. "I was born to it, much like you, though my power was nurtured from a young age. My father taught me everything I know. He's a warlock, blind but able to see all things through his magic. You'd like him. He understands things in ways that most cannot."Arcanos swallowed hard, his wariness not entirely faded. "I don't want to be part of this… whatever this is. I just want to go home."Modred's expression softened. "You've already taken the first steps into a world far beyond your home, Arcanos. You can't run from it now."There was truth in his words, and Arcanos felt the weight of it pressing down on him. He knew there was no escaping what had happened in the forest today. His life had already changed irrevocably. Still, he had no desire to linger here in this forest, especially with a stranger who wielded power as easily as breathing."I've run far from home," Arcanos admitted, his voice quieter now. "I told my sister I was going to gather firewood, but… I encountered that beast."Modred's eyes flicked towards the dead wolf. "And you survived. Not many could boast such a feat. But you're no ordinary human, Arcanos. You were destined for more."Arcanos shook his head. "I don't want any of this destiny or power. I just want to go back to my life, to my sister…""You can still go back," Modred said gently. "But before you do, why not rest? My home is nearby, and I can offer you a place to stay. You look exhausted."Arcanos hesitated, his instincts screaming at him to refuse. But exhaustion was fast overwhelming him, and the prospect of returning home empty-handed after all that had happened seemed impossible. "Fine," he said at last, resigned. "I'll come with you. But only for the night."Modred smiled warmly and beckoned him forward. "Come, then. It's not far."
And so, the two boys set off together, leaving the lifeless wolf behind as they made their way deeper into the forest. For Arcanos, this would be a journey that would change him forever—one that would lead him further from his past and into a future filled with untold magic, danger, and discovery.
The journey through the dense, shadowed forest took longer than Arcanos anticipated. The towering trees seemed to close in on them as they ventured deeper into the unknown. The sunlight dimmed, obscured by a thick canopy of leaves overhead, casting eerie shadows across their path. Modred led the way confidently, while Arcanos followed, still uneasy about this sudden turn in his life. The ominous silence of the woods only deepened his sense of foreboding. Finally, they arrived at a small clearing where a peculiar structure stood, tucked between two ancient oaks. The hut, if it could even be called that, seemed more like an extension of the forest itself. Twisted vines clung to its walls, while moss crept over its stone foundation. The roof was a patchwork of straw and leaves, darkened with age, while gnarled branches hung over it like watchful sentinels. The doorway was arched, carved with intricate symbols that glowed faintly in the fading light. It was as though the very air around the place hummed with ancient power."This is where I live," Modred said, gesturing towards the hut. "My father and I… we don't often have visitors."Arcanos hesitated at the threshold, his heart pounding in his chest. The hut exuded an aura of both mystery and menace, a place where the natural world had merged with something far more arcane. He swallowed hard, but Modred gave him an encouraging nod."Don't worry. My father may be a warlock, but he's no threat to you."As they stepped inside, Arcanos was immediately enveloped by a thick, almost suffocating darkness. The air smelled of old parchment, herbs, and something earthy that he couldn't quite place. The walls were lined with shelves, filled to the brim with dusty books and peculiar trinkets that pulsed with strange energy. In the centre of the room sat a single, small fire, its embers glowing faintly, casting flickering shadows on the floor.At the far end of the room sat a figure—an old man, his sightless eyes staring ahead. Despite his blindness, the man turned his head as they entered, as though he could see them perfectly."Father," Modred spoke softly. "We have a guest."The old warlock, Malachi, rose slowly from his chair, his long, silver hair cascading down his back like a river of moonlight. His robes were tattered but held an air of ancient grandeur. Despite his frailty, there was a palpable power about him, one that made Arcanos feel both small and significant at the same time."Welcome," Malachi said in a low, gravelly voice, his blind eyes fixed unerringly on Arcanos. "I have been expecting you."Arcanos stiffened at those words. "Expecting me?" he echoed, confused and wary."Yes," Malachi continued, stepping forward. He raised a trembling hand, not to touch, but to sense. Goosebumps erupted across his skin as he inhaled deeply, feeling the air around Arcanos. "You carry the weight of destiny, young one. I have known of your coming for many years."Arcanos shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny of the old warlock. "I don't understand," he said, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "I'm just… I'm no one special."Malachi smiled faintly, as though amused by the statement. "You are far more than you realise," he said softly. "You are the key—the one destined to end the centuries of war and bloodshed that have plagued Khyronia. The witches, Valak's tyranny… all of it shall crumble under your hand."Arcanos felt a shiver run down his spine. The gravity of Malachi's words hit him like a tidal wave, but he couldn't comprehend them. How could he, a boy who had just recently discovered his own magic, be the one to save an entire kingdom? He glanced at Modred, who stood quietly at his father's side, his expression solemn.Malachi turned his sightless eyes to Modred. "Prepare a place for our guest," he said. "He must rest. He has a long road ahead, and the burdens he carries are not easily borne."Modred nodded and motioned for Arcanos to follow him deeper into the hut. As they walked, Arcanos couldn't help but glance back at the old warlock, still standing in the dim light of the fire, his face etched with wisdom and mystery. There was something deeply unsettling about being in the presence of someone who seemed to know the future—his future—better than he did himself.They entered a small chamber at the back of the hut, sparsely furnished but warm. A bed made of woven straw and animal pelts lay in the corner, a single window allowing the faintest hint of moonlight to stream through."You'll stay here," Modred said, gesturing to the bed. "It's not much, but it's comfortable enough."Arcanos sat down, his body suddenly aching with exhaustion. He hadn't realised how much the events of the day had drained him. "Your father," Arcanos began slowly, "he… knows things, doesn't he?"Modred smiled faintly. "Yes, he does. His blindness doesn't prevent him from seeing the world—he sees it in ways most can't. He's been preparing for your arrival for a long time."Arcanos shook his head. "But why me? I don't even know what I'm capable of. How am I supposed to do any of the things he's talking about?"Modred sat down across from him, his eyes thoughtful. "Destiny isn't something you can run from, Arcanos. My father believes you're the one fated to bring peace to Khyronia, to end the conflict between the witches, the vampires, and Valak. But what you do with that destiny is up to you."Arcanos let out a deep sigh, feeling the weight of the conversation pressing down on him. "I never asked for this," he muttered, running a hand through his hair."None of us do," Modred replied quietly. "But it finds us anyway."As silence settled between them, the enormity of the situation became clearer to Arcanos. He was far from the boy who had set out to gather firewood that morning. His life had taken a sudden, sharp turn, and there was no going back.Suddenly, Malachi's voice echoed from the other room, startling them both.