Months slipped by as Hayyan roamed from village to village, selling charcoal and gathering coins. He became a familiar, if somewhat mysterious, figure in the region—a young traveling merchant with a quiet demeanor and a knack for producing high-quality charcoal. The villagers never suspected that his true skill lay in the precise manipulation of the flames and elements that forged his wares.
By day, he mingled among the villagers, learning their ways, adapting to the nuances of their lives, and listening for any rumors that might give him insight into the dangers that lurked in this world. He quickly learned to keep his head down and his words measured, offering no more than what was necessary to secure a night's rest or a simple meal. His disguise as a humble merchant served him well, allowing him to slip through towns unnoticed, another face in the crowd.
By night, he retreated to the shadows of the forest, where he could be free from prying eyes. Here, under the dense canopy of trees, he practiced his magic in solitude, feeling the steady pulse of mana flowing through the earth and air around him. With no one to watch, he pushed his limits, experimenting with the elements as he had in those early days back home—before everything changed.
He refined his control over air magic, learning to guide the wind with increasing precision. He could conjure gentle breezes to sweep through the trees, or compress the air into a sharp gust strong enough to slice through small branches. Each day, his power grew, and with it, his understanding of the delicate balance required to harness the elements.
Earth magic became another focus of his training. He learned to sense the vibrations of the earth beneath his feet, a skill that allowed him to predict movements within the forest and even track the footsteps of passing animals.
Water and fire remained more elusive, their properties harder to master. Yet, Hayyan persisted, summoning droplets of water from the air and testing the limits of his control over flames. He found that with intense concentration, he could coax a flame into a precise shape or summon a trickle of water. These powers were more volatile, harder to maintain, but he continued to practice, knowing that any edge could be the difference between survival and capture.
---
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the air cooled, Hayyan sat by a campfire he had created with a simple flick of his fingers. The orange glow danced across his face as he stared into the flames, reflecting on the months that had passed. He had grown stronger, more capable than he had ever imagined. But the ache of loneliness still gnawed at him, a hollow space that no amount of practice could fill.
He wondered how long he could continue this way—living in the shadows, hiding who he truly was. Each village he visited reminded him of how different he had become, how his powers set him apart from those around him. And yet, despite everything, a part of him still longed for connection, for someone to share in the secrets he carried.
But trust was a dangerous game, and Hayyan knew the risks all too well. For now, he would remain the wandering merchant, traveling from village to village, practicing his magic in the secrecy of the forest. It was a life of uncertainty, but it was better than the noose that awaited him if his secret ever slipped.
Hayyan arranged his charcoal neatly on a wooden cart, ready for another day of selling his goods in the small village square. As he waited for customers, a familiar face approached—a regular who often bought from him. The man was a stocky farmer with a kind demeanor and a touch of gray in his beard.
"Morning, lad," the farmer greeted with a smile. "Say, you're always traveling about, aren't ya?"
Hayyan nodded, offering a friendly smile. "That I am, sir. Been to most of the villages around here."
The farmer hesitated, scratching his head. "Well, there's a favor I was hoping to ask. My daughter lives in a town called Myth, married there a few years back. I've got a parcel for her—a few things she's been needing. Thought maybe, since you're already on the road, you could take it to her?"
Hayyan's curiosity piqued at the mention of Myth Town, a place he had yet to visit. He had heard some whispers of it, a town known for its mix of old traditions and strange stories, but he hadn't had the chance to see it himself.
He tilted his head slightly. "Why Myth Town? What's special about it?"
The farmer chuckled. "Not much that I know of, but it's a long way, and my old bones aren't what they used to be. Figured you might have the energy for the trip. Plus, my daughter, she's been feeling a bit lonely, what with her husband being away often for work. I reckon she could use a friendly face to drop off this parcel."
Hayyan thought it over, then gave a nod. "I'd be happy to help. And I've been meaning to visit Myth Town myself. Consider it done."
The farmer's face lit up with gratitude. "Thank you, lad. I knew I could count on you!."
---
A few days later, Hayyan arrived at Myth Town. It was larger than the villages he had been frequenting, with cobbled streets, stone houses, and a bustling market that carried a lively air. He could hear the chatter of townsfolk and the distant clang of blacksmiths working their craft. After asking around a bit, he found the address he needed, a quaint little house with ivy creeping up the walls.
He knocked on the wooden door, and after a few moments, it creaked open to reveal a girl of about 11 years old, her brown hair tied into two braids. She looked at him curiously with wide, bright eyes.
"Hello there," Hayyan said, offering a small smile. "I'm here to deliver a parcel from your.....grandfather??..."
The girl blinked and then turned her head to call inside. "Mama! There's a man here for you!"
A woman soon appeared at the door, her expression wary but polite. When she saw the parcel in Hayyan's hands, her face softened. "Oh, you are???"
"Hello. This parcel is from your grandfather. He asked me to deliver it. "
". Thank you so much for bringing this. Please, come in for a moment. Have some tea."
Hayyan accepted the offer, stepping into their humble home. As they sat at a small wooden table, the woman poured tea while the girl curiously watched Hayyan. He noticed a certain air about the child, a strange presence he couldn't quite put his finger on, but he decided to keep quiet about it for now.
They exchanged pleasantries, with the woman speaking fondly of her father. "It's been so long since I've seen him," she said, a hint of sadness in her voice. "This parcel means a lot to me. Thank you again, truly."
Hayyan nodded, sipping the warm tea. "It's no trouble at all. I travel a lot, so it was on my way. Your father mentioned you might be needing some company."
The woman smiled warmly. "Yes, it's been a bit lonely here. My husband travels for work often, so it's usually just me and my daughter. She's a curious one, always asking questions about the world beyond our town."
The little girl perked up at this. "Mama says the world is big! Have you seen it all, mister?"
Hayyan chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Not quite all of it, but I've seen a fair bit. Every place has its own stories."
The girl's eyes sparkled with interest, but before she could ask more, her mother gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "Now, now, don't trouble our guest with too many questions. He's probably tired from his journey."
After finishing his tea, Hayyan bid them farewell, promising to pass along their greetings to the farmer when he returned that way. As he left, he couldn't shake the lingering sense of curiosity about the little girl. There was something... different about her.
---
Two days later, as Hayyan explored the town's market, he heard a commotion from the town square. People gathered in clusters, murmuring among themselves with a mixture of fear and intrigue.
"They found her! The witch child!" a voice cried out.
Hayyan's ears perked up at the word, his heart quickening. He discreetly made his way toward the gathering crowd, slipping between the townsfolk to get a better look. At the center of the commotion, two knights stood, holding a young girl by the arm—none other than the daughter of the woman he had visited.
The girl's face was streaked with tears, her eyes wide with terror as she struggled against the grip of the knights. The whispers from the crowd were relentless.
"She was seen making things float! Just like the stories!"
"I heard she killed her father. "
"Because of her being witch, her father left her. "
Whispers everywhere.
"Poor child… but there's no place for a witch here."
"They'll take her to the town square... you know what happens next."
Hayyan's stomach churned as he watched the scene unfold. He clenched his fists, knowing that if he revealed himself, he would share the same fate as the girl. Yet, as he saw her pleading eyes, he couldn't shake the guilt that twisted in his chest.
As he stood at the edge of the crowd, hidden among the onlookers, Hayyan's mind raced. He didn't know if he could save her alone, but perhaps, just perhaps, there was a way to help without letting anyone know about his identity. He needed to think quickly before it was too late.