The borderlands stretched out before them, an expanse of rugged hills and winding rivers. The forest had long since thinned, giving way to open plains, and with it, a sense of exposure. The sky above was overcast, casting a dull light over the rocky terrain. Cedric, Lira, and Maeve moved steadily forward, the quiet between them growing as the hours passed.
Cedric's mind wandered as they walked, replaying the battle where his magic had first revealed itself in full force. His creations had been so powerful, so sudden, that even he had struggled to comprehend them. He could still feel the pull of the earth beneath his feet, the raw energy that had surged through him when he had formed the stone walls.
But there was still so much he didn't understand. His power seemed limitless, yet unrefined. Every time he tried to push it, something inside him hesitated, as if he feared what might happen if he went too far. What if one day, his magic got out of control?
"Lost in thought, creator boy?" Maeve's voice cut through his reverie, pulling him back to the present.
Cedric glanced at her, offering a faint smile. "Just thinking about… the magic."
Maeve's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "I'd be thinking about it too if I had your power. Do you even know how far it goes?"
Cedric shook his head. "No. That's what scares me."
Maeve let out a low whistle. "Scary? I'd say it's exciting. You've got the power to create anything, Cedric. Anything. The only limit is your imagination!"
Lira, who had been walking slightly ahead, spoke without turning around. "Power without control is dangerous."
Maeve made a face, clearly disagreeing. "There's more to life than control, Lira. Sometimes you just have to let things happen. See where the magic takes you."
Lira didn't respond, but Cedric noticed the way her shoulders tensed at Maeve's words. He wondered, not for the first time, what burden Lira carried that made her so focused on discipline and restraint.
---
The wind picked up as they crested a hill, and in the distance, Cedric spotted a small village nestled between the hills. Thin columns of smoke rose from chimneys, a sign of life in the otherwise barren landscape.
"We should rest there for the night," Cedric suggested, nodding toward the village.
Lira glanced at the distant settlement, her expression unreadable. "If they're friendly."
Maeve grinned. "If they're not, we'll just blind them with one of my smoke bombs."
Cedric chuckled, but Lira's eyes narrowed as she scanned the horizon. "Stay alert. Something doesn't feel right."
They approached the village cautiously. As they drew closer, the sense of unease grew stronger. The streets were eerily quiet, the doors of the small cottages closed tightly, and no one seemed to be outside. Cedric felt a prickle of tension in the air—something was off.
Maeve's cheerful tone faltered. "Maybe they don't get many visitors?"
Lira shook her head. "Or maybe they're hiding."
Just as she finished speaking, a figure emerged from one of the houses. An older man, thin and hunched with age, stepped into the road, his eyes darting between them nervously. His hands trembled as he clutched a staff, though it didn't appear to be a weapon.
"Travelers?" the man called, his voice shaky. "Are you… are you here to help?"
Cedric exchanged a glance with Lira and Maeve before stepping forward. "Help? What's wrong?"
The man's face crumpled as if he were about to cry. "They've taken the children… all of them."