Veron had only one dream.
It was to become a warrior.
Instead, he was handed shackles.
He wanted to wear mighty armour.
Instead, he wore torn tunics.
He wanted to fight monsters.
Instead, he cleaned the piss and shit of others.
But he did dream.
And he dreamt big enough to break away free.
---
The bright light of the moon seeped into the world, laying on top of the face of a little boy as his feet pressed onto the snow.
He was running towards the dead forest, the cold air burning through his lungs, biting into his very soul.
An arrow shot past his left, barely grazing him.
He quickened his pace, now fully sprinting towards the little entrance.
A cacophony of voices roared, as several hooded figures rose from the darkness.
Each one was wielding either a bow or a sword.
Yet each one had a mindset to kill, all directed into that one single boy.
He ran.
He ran!
He kept on running till his feet were numb.
He kept on running till his heart was ready to pound out of his chest.
The hooded figures pursued behind, swords ready in their hands.
A figure loaded their arrow, pulling their bow until ready to shoot.
Swoosh!
It missed the boy by a hair's strand.
The boy was going to collapse on any minute, yet he gritted his teeth and ran.
Step after Step, Arrow after Arrow, he kept on inching towards the forest.
Each tree was dead, it's branches twisted in malevolent designs.
Yet they allured the boy for safety.
It drived the boy even more to reach the "safety" of the forest.
Step.
Swoosh!
Step.
Swoosh!
Each graze of an arrow left his skin burning.
His feet were already gone, only working due to sheer tenacity.
Step.
Step.
Step!
As he dashed towards the small entrance intertwined by branches, the figures closed in.
The arrows stopped, but in place of them the swords were now in close proximity.
Swish.
The first swing, missed by a finger.
Swish!
The second, heavier swing, missed by an ear.
And just as the boy closed in, his feet was stopped
One of the figures had grabbed his left ankle.
He swung his sword high, ready to strike down with cold, angry eyes.
Thump!
The figure dropped to his butt as a yellowish liquid was sprayed on to his face, releasing his hand.
It was piss.
The boy had just pissed on his pursuer.
"You little...!"
But before he could even curse upon his victim, the boy was long gone.
"Damn it...urgh...ptooey!"
---
With ragged breaths burning his lungs, Veron slowed his pace, his body drenched in sweat.
It didn't help, as every blow of wind felt like a cold needle pricking on the skin.
Yet, he smiled brightly for the first time.
He had just escaped the Slave Union.
He no longer had to clean piss and shit, or lick the toes of disgusting nobles.
But the threat hasn't subsided yet, as the forest he had now just entered was called the "Cursed Forest of Winter".
Rustle.
A tree moved to the left of Veron.
He froze in place, eyes locked on the branch.
"Interesting way to intrude upon someone's home, boy?"
An elegant, yet ethereal voice spoke behind Veron.
A cold breeze washed upon him, who was now shivering as the wind bit into his bones.
He looked ahead, eyes almost closing due to exhaustion.
"My, you look too unhealthy for a child."
Eyes reflectively shining , blue feathers glowing bright, the bird flew in front of Veron.
The Cold breeze stopped, in place of which an unfamiliar warmth settled.
The malevolent atmosphere of the forest subsided, each tree now seemingly normal.
Veron looked forward, and what he saw was no ordinary bird.
It was an owl that looked straight out of fairy tales.
And it was half of his height as well.
The Owl hopped around Veron, circling him a whole round before stopping in front of him.
"A runaway slave... Well that's something new..."
The beak of The Owl clattered in strange manners, somehow forming coherent words.
Veron was completely still, unsure of what he was seeing real or a hallucination.
The Cursed Forest was definitely known for its illusions, but a talking Owl?
Even the children didn't believe in it.
The Owl kept on examining, seemingly oblivious to the suspicious eyes of Veron.
"Say, boy..."
Veron jolted, almost tripping to his right.
"...I will offer you a choice, since you are a someone that has intrigued me with your 'peculiar' physique."
'Peculiar? What does it even see in a malnourished body?!'
But Veron knew the depth of what the Owl was going to say. Whatever the choice, they will come with a price.
"I will take you under my wing."
'Wait, is he saying he will kidnap me?! Ew, what a creep!'
Veron's face contorted in disgust, catching the Owl off guard.
"...I did not mean it like that, child."
The Owl broke into a laugh that felt like metal grinding against itself.
"...It meant I will take care of you for the time being!"
Veron broke into a cold sweat.
"
Veron cautiously structured his sentence, feeling that one misspell might doom him.
"I will look over you while you survive the Illiova."
The Owl, with a swift motionof it's left wing, slice open the air, revealing a swirling mass of blue energy.
It felt cold, the energy pouring out being so malicious that it churned Veron's stomach.
"Also known by humans as..."
Veron gulped.
"The Depths of Winter."