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Third Person POV - Thalrik
The Great Forest was alive with sound. Birds flitted from branch to branch, chittering warnings to one another. Leaves rustled with the passage of small animals, and the occasional distant growl of danger beasts served as a reminder of the forest's deadlier inhabitants.
Thalrik Orenda moved silently through the underbrush, his sharp eyes scanning the treetops and forest floor for signs of movement. Behind him, ten of Arkaneth's finest hunters followed in a loose formation, each man alert and ready for action. Today was a hunt, no different from the many others they had undertaken to provide food and protection for the village.
"Chief," Gram whispered, his voice barely audible over the forest's natural hum. "Tracks here. Big ones. Danger beast, maybe?"
Thalrik crouched beside him, his experienced gaze following the faint impressions in the soft earth. "Rock drake, most likely," he muttered. "Not fresh. A day old, maybe more."
"Good," muttered Borik, an older warrior with a gruff demeanor. "Means it's long gone. Last thing we need is to stumble into its den."
Thalrik grunted in agreement, but he wasn't so sure. Danger beasts didn't leave tracks like this without reason. "Stay sharp. They don't always wander far."
The group pressed on, the tension gradually easing as they fell into their familiar rhythm. The younger hunters exchanged hushed jokes, their whispers barely carrying above the rustle of leaves. Thalrik allowed it, knowing that camaraderie was as important to survival as skill.
"Chief," one of the older men, Aldric, called softly. "Think we'll make it back in time for the festival?"
Thalrik smirked. "Depends on whether you lot can keep up."
A ripple of laughter passed through the group, lightening the mood. For a moment, it felt like any other day.
Then the forest fell silent.
Thalrik froze mid-step, his hand instinctively dropping to the hilt of his blade. The hunters behind him stopped as well, their chatter dying instantly. The sudden stillness was unnatural. No birds, no insects, not even the distant hum of wind through the trees.
"Chief?" Gram whispered, his voice tight.
Thalrik raised a hand, signaling for silence. He strained his ears, his heart pounding. The air felt heavy, like the calm before a storm.
And then it came.
A deafening crash shook the forest, the sound tearing through the stillness like thunder. The ground beneath their feet trembled, and a blinding golden light erupted in the distance, visible even through the dense canopy. It lingered for a heartbeat before vanishing, leaving only the faint echo of its roar behind.
"What the hell was that?!" Borik shouted, his grizzled face pale.
Thalrik didn't answer immediately. He was too busy scanning the horizon, his instincts screaming that something was wrong. "Form up," he ordered finally. "Stay close, and keep your weapons ready."
"Chief, that wasn't natural," Gram said, his voice shaky. "What if—"
"Enough," Thalrik snapped. "We're going to find out what it was. Move."
The group advanced cautiously, their lighthearted banter replaced with tense silence. They moved like shadows through the trees, their steps soft and deliberate. As they neared the source of the noise, the forest began to change. The air grew warmer, almost stifling, and the faint smell of scorched earth reached their noses.
The clearing appeared suddenly, like a wound in the forest. The ground was blackened and still smoking, the air shimmering with residual heat. At the center of the devastation lay a shallow crater, its edges charred and cracked. And in the middle of the crater lay a child.
Thalrik's breath hitched as he stepped into the clearing, his eyes scanning the scene before him. The destruction was complete—trees splintered into jagged stumps, the ground charred and cracked like an ancient wound, and the air thick with the acrid scent of burnt wood.
But it was the light that held him in place.
A faint golden glow pulsed at the center of the crater, brighter and more vibrant than the sun's rays filtering through the canopy. Thalrik blinked, half-expecting the glow to vanish like a mirage. When it didn't, unease crawled up his spine.
This wasn't natural. Nothing about it was natural.
"Chief?" Gram whispered, his voice tinged with dread.
Thalrik raised a hand to silence him, stepping cautiously toward the light. His boots crunched on the blackened earth, the sound unnaturally loud in the heavy stillness. As he neared the source of the glow, the air grew warmer, wrapping around him like a suffocating blanket.
And then he saw it.
The baby lay at the center of the crater, impossibly small against the vast devastation surrounding it. Its golden hair shimmered in the faint light, and its tiny chest rose and fell with each steady breath. The glow radiated from its body, soft and rhythmic, like the heartbeat of a slumbering star.
Thalrik's mind raced. What in the name of the gods was he looking at? A child, here, in the middle of nowhere—impossible. And those wings. Six golden wings, unfurled and shining, their light almost blinding. His breath caught as the wings slowly retracted into the baby's back, leaving behind the faint outline of a tattoo.
He dropped to one knee, his instincts screaming at him to act. To protect.
But protect what? A blessing? A curse? His thoughts spiraled, filled with flashes of the Order's soldiers storming into the village, their righteous zeal leaving nothing but ash in its wake. If they saw this child, they wouldn't hesitate.
"Chief?" Gram's voice snapped him back to reality.
Thalrik turned, his expression hardening. "It's a child. Nothing else matters."
The baby was impossibly out of place amidst the destruction. Its golden hair caught the faint sunlight filtering through the canopy, and its small body radiated a soft, ethereal glow. Its eyes, half-open, glimmered like molten gold, staring at the world with unnatural calm.
But it was the wings that drew the men's attention. Six shimmering, golden wings unfurled from the baby's back, their light brighter than the smoldering crater around them. They pulsed faintly, as if alive, before retracting slowly into the baby's body. In their place, a tattoo of six wings appeared on the child's back, glowing faintly against its delicate skin.
"What… what is that?" Borik breathed, his voice filled with dread.
Thalrik stepped forward, his boots crunching on the charred earth. He crouched beside the child, his brow furrowed. The baby didn't cry or move, only watched him with those impossible eyes. Carefully, he reached out, his hand trembling slightly, and touched its cheek. The baby's skin was warm but not unnaturally so, and it leaned into his touch with a soft coo.
"It's a child," Thalrik said quietly, though even he struggled to believe his own words.
"Chief, that thing isn't just a child," Borik said, his voice rising. "Look at it! Those wings—what if it's cursed? What if it's—"
"Enough!" Thalrik snapped, his voice cutting through the rising panic. "It's a child. That's all you need to know."
He stood, wrapping the baby carefully in his cloak. It squirmed slightly, but otherwise made no sound. "Listen to me, all of you," he said, his tone low and commanding. "When we return to the village, this never happened. Understand?"
The men exchanged uneasy glances. Gram finally spoke, his voice hesitant. "What do you mean, Chief?"
Thalrik's expression hardened. "We found this child abandoned on the road. A carriage attacked by danger beasts, its passengers killed. That's the story."
"Chief…" Aldric started, his voice heavy with doubt.
"That's the story," Thalrik repeated coldly. "Or do you want to explain this to the Order? Do you want them coming here, tearing apart our village because of what we saw?"
The men fell silent. They knew what Thalrik meant. The Order of Burning Light didn't ask questions—they took what they wanted and destroyed anything they deemed heretical. And this child… this child would be enough to bring their wrath down on all of them.
One by one, the hunters nodded.
"Good," Thalrik said, his tone softening slightly. "Let's move. And remember—not a word."
The group turned and slipped back into the forest, leaving the scorched clearing and its mysteries behind. But as Thalrik carried the child in his arms, he couldn't shake the feeling that his life—and the life of his village—had just changed forever.
---
Third Person POV - Thalrik and Valaith
The heavy wooden door creaked open, and Thalrik stepped into the dimly lit home he shared with his wife and daughter. He carried a bundle in his arms, its weight small but significant. The golden-haired baby was wrapped tightly in his cloak, resting quietly against his chest.
Valaith looked up from her seat near the hearth, where she had been sorting dried herbs into neat bundles. Her sharp green eyes immediately caught the tense set of Thalrik's shoulders and the cautious way he moved. "What's happened?" she asked, standing quickly.
Thalrik stepped further into the room, shutting the door firmly behind him. Without a word, he approached the central table and gently unwrapped the bundle, revealing the baby within.
Valaith's breath caught. She stared at the child, taking in its glowing golden hair, the faint shimmer in its skin, and the delicate tattoo of six wings on its back. "Thalrik… what is this?"
"I found him," Thalrik said, his voice low but steady. "In the forest. There was a crash, like a meteorite, and when we went to investigate, we found him lying in a crater. There were… wings. Six of them. Glowing. Then they disappeared, and this"—he gestured to the tattoo—"appeared on his back."
Valaith approached cautiously, her hand trembling as she reached out to touch the child's soft hair. The baby stirred slightly, its glowing eyes opening to meet hers. A warmth spread through her chest, and her maternal instincts overpowered her confusion.
"He's beautiful," she murmured.
Valaith's hand lingered on the baby's golden hair, her fingers trembling slightly. He was beautiful, yes, but there was something else—something that sent a shiver down her spine. His eyes, wide and glowing, seemed too knowing for a child.
Her breath hitched as a memory surfaced unbidden. A village, much like Arkaneth, consumed by fire and chaos. The Order had come to root out heresy, but all they found were terrified families and frightened children. The priests had called it necessary. Valaith had called it murder.
And now, this child—this impossible being—could bring the same fate to her home.
She pulled her hand back, her fingers curling into a fist. "Thalrik… we can't let them find out. Not ever."
"I know," he said quietly, his tone grim. "That's why no one else can know. Not even the elders."
Her gaze flicked to the tattoo on the baby's back, glowing faintly in the firelight. It was a mark of power, a beacon that would draw the Order like moths to a flame. Her chest tightened.
"I'll protect him," she said finally, her voice firm. "Whatever it takes."
Thalrik placed a hand on her shoulder, his grip reassuring. "We will," he said, his tone leaving no room for doubt.
Thalrik nodded but didn't smile. "He's more than that. I think he might be… connected to the prophecy. You know the one—the child who would bring light back to the world."
Valaith's head snapped up, and she locked eyes with him. "Thalrik, do you understand what you're saying? If the Order even suspects that he's connected to their prophecy…"
"They'll take him," Thalrik finished grimly. "And they'll twist him into something we can't control. That's why I told the men nothing. I said we found him abandoned after a danger beast attack. It's the only way to keep this secret."
Valaith shook her head, a deep fear settling into her chest. "Thalrik, this is dangerous. The Order doesn't need proof. One whisper of heresy, one rumor, and they'll burn the entire village to the ground."
"That's why no one can know," Thalrik said firmly. "Not the Order, not the villagers. Only us."
Valaith hesitated, memories of her past flashing through her mind. She had been one of the Order's warriors once—a Ferentes Flammae—and she had seen firsthand how zealotry destroyed everything it touched. Villages razed, families torn apart, all in the name of the Light Eternal. It was why she had left.
"I left the Order to get away from this kind of madness," she said quietly. "But if they find out about him… they'll justify every atrocity in his name."
Thalrik stepped closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. "That's why we protect him. No matter what."
The baby let out a soft coo, drawing their attention back to him. Valaith couldn't help but smile, despite the fear gnawing at her. "He's so calm," she said, stroking his golden hair. "It's like he knows he's safe here."
"Maybe he does," Thalrik replied, his voice softening.
At that moment, the door creaked open, and Serenya bounded in, her braided hair bouncing as she ran into the room. "Mama! Papa!" she called, her voice filled with excitement.
She froze when she saw the baby in her mother's arms. Her wide green eyes lit up with curiosity and wonder. "Mama, who's that?"
Valaith knelt, lowering the baby so Serenya could see him. "He's… someone special," she said carefully.
Serenya hesitated, her wide green eyes studying the baby intently. "Where did he come from, Mama?"
Valaith exchanged a quick glance with Thalrik before answering. "He was… left behind. We're going to take care of him now."
Serenya tilted her head, her curiosity outweighing any fear. "He looks like a sunbeam," she said, her voice filled with wonder. "Does he have a name?"
"Not yet," Valaith replied gently.
Serenya's face lit up. "Can I name him? Please, Mama?"
Valaith chuckled softly, brushing a hand over her daughter's hair. "We'll decide together, alright?"
The little girl nodded eagerly, leaning down to gently touch the baby's tiny hand. He cooed softly, his golden eyes locking onto hers. Serenya giggled, her hesitation melting away. "He's my little brother. I just know it."
Serenya stepped closer, her excitement bubbling over. "Is he my little brother?"
Valaith hesitated for a moment, then smiled softly. "Yes, he is."
Serenya's grin widened, and she leaned down to gently touch the baby's hand. "He's so tiny," she whispered, her voice full of awe.
Valaith and Thalrik exchanged a look, their silent agreement clear: they would do whatever it took to keep this child safe.
For now, they would simply be a family.
---
Third Person POV - Serenya and the Baby
The warm afternoon sunlight filtered into the Orenda household, casting a golden glow on the smooth wooden floors. Serenya sat cross-legged in the main room, her braids swaying slightly as she leaned over a piece of parchment. Charcoal smudged her small fingers as she worked on her drawing, her brow furrowed in concentration.
"Mama, I'm making a new knight for my story!" she announced proudly, holding up the sketch. The rough outlines depicted a figure wielding a gigantic sword, his round head crowned with what could generously be called a helmet.
Valaith glanced over from the kitchen, where she was arranging herbs for drying. "That's wonderful, Serenya. What's this one's name?"
"Sir Thunderclaw!" Serenya declared with a wide grin. "He fights the rock drakes in the mountains, and he's the best knight in all the world!"
A soft coo interrupted her announcement. Serenya turned to the mat on the floor nearby, where the baby was lying on his back. His golden hair caught the sunlight, and his bright eyes followed Serenya's every movement with curious wonder.
Serenya's grin widened. She crawled over to him on her hands and knees, holding up the parchment for him to see. "Look, little brother! This is Sir Thunderclaw! He's super brave, just like you're going to be one day!"
The baby reached out with tiny hands, his fingers brushing the edge of the paper. Serenya giggled and pulled it back just in time. "You'll smudge it, silly! But don't worry—I'll make one just for you when you get bigger."
Valaith paused in her work, watching the interaction with a soft smile. It had been only days since Thalrik had brought the mysterious child into their lives, but already Serenya had claimed him as her little brother. Her love for him was immediate and unshakable, as though she had been waiting for this moment her entire life.
"You really like him, don't you?" Valaith asked gently, wiping her hands on a cloth and walking over to kneel beside them.
"Of course I do, Mama!" Serenya replied, as if the answer were obvious. She leaned down to tickle the baby's belly, her laughter ringing out like a bell as he let out a soft giggle. "He's perfect!"
Valaith's heart swelled as she watched them. The world outside their home was harsh and unforgiving, but in this moment, surrounded by her children, she felt a rare and precious sense of peace.
---
Third Person POV - Thalrik, Serenya, and the Naming
The front door creaked open, and Thalrik stepped inside, his boots leaving faint marks on the floor as he set down a bundle of firewood. He glanced at Serenya and the baby, his stern expression softening slightly.
"Are you teaching him how to be a warrior already?" he asked, his voice carrying a trace of humor.
Serenya looked up with a big grin. "Not yet, Papa! Right now I'm showing him all my heroes! See?" She held up her drawing, her excitement bubbling over.
Thalrik crouched beside her, studying the picture with a critical eye. "He'll need better armor if he's going to fight rock drakes," he teased.
Serenya gasped in mock offense. "Sir Thunderclaw doesn't need better armor! He's super strong!"
Thalrik chuckled, shaking his head as he reached down to ruffle her hair. "Alright, alright. I'll take your word for it."
As the baby let out a soft babble, Thalrik's gaze shifted to him. He reached out carefully, his large hand brushing against the baby's tiny fingers. The child grabbed onto one of his fingers tightly, and Thalrik froze for a moment, his expression unreadable.
"What is it, Thalrik?" Valaith asked, noticing the shift in his demeanor.
Thalrik hesitated, then shook his head. "Nothing. I was just thinking… he deserves a proper name."
Valaith tilted her head thoughtfully. "A name that reflects who he is. Something meaningful."
Serenya perked up immediately. "Can I help name him?"
Thalrik smiled faintly. "Do you have any ideas, little one?"
Serenya scrunched up her face in deep concentration, her hand tapping her chin as she pondered. "Hmm… how about… Goldenhair?"
Valaith stifled a laugh. "That's very descriptive, Serenya, but maybe something a bit more… symbolic."
The room fell quiet as they thought. Finally, Valaith spoke, her voice soft but certain. "Veritas."
Thalrik raised an eyebrow. "Truth?"
Valaith nodded. "He's brought light into this house, Thalrik. Into our lives. And in this world, the truth is more important than anything."
Serenya beamed. "Veritas! I like it!" She leaned down to the baby, gently cradling his tiny hand in hers. "Do you hear that, little brother? Your name is Veritas!"
At that moment, as if in understanding, the baby let out a joyful giggle, his bright eyes shining.
Thalrik and Valaith exchanged a look, a silent agreement passing between them. Whatever the future held, they would protect this child with everything they had.
Serenya, oblivious to the weight of their thoughts, was already pulling out another piece of parchment. "I'm going to draw a picture of you, Veritas! You'll be the hero of my next story!"
As she babbled on, spinning tales of bravery and adventure, Valaith reached out to touch Thalrik's hand. For a brief moment, the harshness of the world outside seemed distant, and the warmth of family filled the room.
---
Third Person POV - Valaith and Tara
The warm aroma of freshly baked bread and herbs filled the air as Valaith sat at the kitchen table, sorting a collection of dried leaves into neat bundles. The rhythmic sound of chopping echoed from across the room, where Tara, her sister and the village healer, was slicing vegetables with quick, practiced movements.
"And then," Tara said with a grin, her knife pausing mid-air, "he walked straight into the chicken coop, thinking he'd trapped the danger beast himself! Poor fool didn't realize it was just a frightened hen flapping around!"
Valaith chuckled, shaking her head. "Let me guess—Borik, right?"
"Who else?" Tara replied, laughing as she dropped the vegetables into a waiting pot. "I swear, for a seasoned warrior, that man has the instincts of a rock drake in winter."
The two women dissolved into laughter, their voices filling the room with a warmth that seemed to chase away the heaviness of the world outside. For a moment, they weren't worried mothers or protectors—they were simply sisters enjoying a rare moment of levity.
"You know," Valaith said, her laughter subsiding into a soft smile, "I miss this. Just sitting here and talking about nothing important."
Tara nodded, her expression softening. "Me too. It's easy to forget what normal feels like, especially these days."
The conversation shifted to more practical matters as Tara sat down across from Valaith, wiping her hands on her apron. "Speaking of normal, have you had a chance to check the food stocks? With the harvest festival coming up, we'll need to set aside enough for the celebrations and the winter stores."
Valaith sighed, rubbing her temples. "Not yet. Thalrik's been busy with patrols, and I've been… well, you know."
Her gaze flicked to the small play mat in the corner of the room, where Veritas was lying on his stomach, his tiny hands gripping a wooden block. Serenya was beside him, enthusiastically stacking another block on top.
Tara followed her sister's gaze, a smile tugging at her lips. "He's settled in well, hasn't he? Serenya's completely smitten with him."
"She is," Valaith said, her voice soft with affection. "I've never seen her take to anyone so quickly. It's like she's been waiting for him her whole life."
Tara leaned back in her chair, studying her sister's face. "And you? How are you holding up?"
Valaith hesitated, her fingers pausing in their work. "It's… complicated. He's a blessing, Tara, truly. But sometimes I look at him, and I think about what could happen if the wrong people find out. About what he might grow into."
Tara reached across the table, placing a reassuring hand on her sister's. "You're doing the best you can. And if anyone can protect him, it's you and Thalrik."
Valaith nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line. "I just hope it's enough."
---
Third Person POV - Veritas and the Surprise
Their conversation was interrupted by a soft sound—a giggle, followed by the clatter of wooden blocks. Both women turned to see Veritas, who had managed to push himself onto all fours. Serenya gasped in delight, clapping her hands.
"Mama! He's crawling!" she exclaimed, bouncing on her knees.
Sure enough, Veritas was wobbling slightly as he moved forward, his tiny hands and knees pressing against the mat. His golden eyes were wide with curiosity as he made his way toward Valaith, his movements slow but determined.
Valaith's heart swelled as she watched him. She leaned forward, her hands resting on her knees. "Come on, little one. You can do it."
Veritas reached the edge of the mat, then paused, his tiny fingers gripping the wooden floor for balance. His gaze locked onto Valaith, and for a moment, it was as if the room held its breath.
And then he said it.
"Mama."
The word was soft, barely more than a whisper, but it struck like a thunderclap. Valaith froze, her eyes widening in shock. Tara's jaw dropped, and even Serenya sat still, her mouth forming a perfect O.
For a moment, no one moved. Then Valaith's face broke into a radiant smile, tears welling in her eyes. She scooped Veritas into her arms, holding him close. "Oh, my sweet boy," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "You said your first word."
Tara blinked, then let out a delighted laugh. "Well, I'll be damned! He's a fast learner, isn't he?"
Serenya clapped her hands again, practically bouncing with excitement. "I knew he was smart! I knew it!"
Valaith kissed Veritas's soft forehead, her heart brimming with love. "You're going to keep surprising us, aren't you?" she murmured.
Veritas cooed softly, his small hands reaching up to touch her face.
Tara leaned back in her chair, shaking her head with a smile. "Well, looks like you've got a mama's boy on your hands."
"I wouldn't have it any other way," Valaith replied, her voice steady despite the tears streaming down her cheeks.
The room felt lighter than it had in weeks, filled with the sound of laughter and the warmth of love. For that brief moment, the weight of the world outside seemed to fade, leaving only the joy of family and the promise of brighter days ahead.
---
Third Person POV - Tara, Serenya, and Veritas
The village of Arkaneth was alive with activity as preparations for the harvest festival were in full swing. The air was filled with the scent of freshly baked bread, the sound of hammering as villagers erected booths, and the distant laughter of children playing in the fields. Tara, holding Veritas securely in her arms, walked through the bustling market with Serenya skipping beside her.
"Do you think Mama's done yet?" Serenya asked, craning her neck to peer over the crowd.
"She's busy in the square, giving everyone orders," Tara replied with a wry smile. "Your mother is very good at telling people what to do."
Serenya giggled. "She says Papa listens to her because he knows she's always right!"
Tara laughed, adjusting Veritas in her arms. The baby was staring at the vibrant market stalls, his golden eyes wide with wonder.
As they passed a stall selling brightly colored candies, Serenya skidded to a halt. "Auntie Tara! Look!" She pointed at the jars of sweets, her green eyes sparkling with excitement. "Can we get some? Please?"
Tara gave her a skeptical look, but her amusement was clear. "Didn't you just have honey cakes this morning?"
"But these are different!" Serenya pleaded, clasping her hands dramatically. "I'll be good, I promise! Just a little bit!"
The vendor, an older woman with a kind face, chuckled as she watched the exchange. "She's got the art of persuasion down, doesn't she?"
"She certainly does," Tara said with a sigh, pulling a small coin from her pouch. "Alright, but only a handful. And you'd better share with your friends later."
"Thank you, Auntie Tara! You're the best!" Serenya grabbed the bag of candies, hugging it tightly like a precious treasure.
The three of them continued through the market, greeting villagers along the way. Tara exchanged pleasantries with the baker, inquired about the carpenter's new stall, and even stopped to inspect a basket of herbs brought in by a forager. Veritas cooed happily the entire time, reaching out to touch Tara's face or the brightly colored fabrics displayed at various stalls.
"You're a curious little one, aren't you?" Tara said, gently catching his tiny hand before he could grab a string of beads.
When they finally reached the town square, it was a hive of activity. Logs and poles were being carried to the center, where a framework for the festival's main stage was being erected. Banners in warm autumn colors fluttered in the breeze, and a group of villagers was setting up tables along the edges of the square.
Near the center of the commotion stood Valaith, her hands on her hips as she directed three of the village's strongest men.
"Gram, the poles go there—no, not there! Vesimir, help him with the beam before he drops it! And Bismarck, stop trying to balance everything on one shoulder; you're not twenty anymore!"
Thalrik stood nearby, overseeing the work with a faintly amused expression. "You'd think she was running an army," he muttered to Gram, who grunted in agreement as he adjusted the pole under Valaith's watchful eye.
Tara approached, settling onto a nearby bench to watch the chaos. "She's in her element, isn't she?" she said, bouncing Veritas gently on her lap.
"Completely," Thalrik replied, his voice carrying a hint of pride.
Serenya, meanwhile, had spotted her friend Viviana Aetheris across the square. The two girls were the same age, but where Serenya was lively and impulsive, Viviana was quiet and studious. She was Kaelith's disciple and always seemed to have her nose in a book or her mind full of facts.
"Viviana! Over here!" Serenya called, waving excitedly.
Viviana approached with her usual measured steps, carrying a small notebook tucked under her arm. "Hello, Serenya," she said with a polite nod.
"This is my little brother!" Serenya declared proudly, pointing to Veritas.
Viviana tilted her head, studying the baby with her usual curiosity. "His hair is so golden. I've never seen that before."
Another child, a boy named Oren, wandered over and frowned. "He doesn't look like you, Serenya. Are you sure he's your brother?"
Serenya's smile vanished, replaced by an indignant glare. "Of course he's my brother! He's special, that's all!"
Tara suppressed a laugh as she watched Serenya defend Veritas with all the fervor of a protective sister. Meanwhile, Veritas, blissfully unaware of the conversation, was focused entirely on Tara. He reached for her hand, his tiny fingers brushing her skin, then giggled as she wiggled her fingers in response.
"You're a charmer, aren't you?" Tara said softly, her heart warming as Veritas continued his attempts to grab her hand.
The peaceful moment was shattered by the sound of hurried footsteps. A man burst into the square, his clothing disheveled and his face flushed from exertion. He was one of Gram's scouts, and it was clear he had run all the way from the forest's edge.
"Chief!" he called, his voice strained and breathless. "Thalrik!"
Thalrik immediately straightened, his expression turning serious. "What is it?"
"Cultists," the scout gasped, clutching his knees as he struggled to catch his breath. "Deep in the Great Forest. Signs of activity—rituals. Danger beast tracks everywhere."
The festive atmosphere of the square evaporated in an instant. Valaith's sharp gaze snapped to Thalrik, who nodded grimly. "Tara, take the children home," Valaith said, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Tara stood, cradling Veritas and motioning for Serenya to follow. "Come on, Serenya. Let's go."
"But Mama—" Serenya began, but the look on her mother's face silenced her.
As Tara led them away, she glanced back at Thalrik, who was already gathering Gram and the others for an emergency council meeting. The joyous preparations for the harvest festival had been replaced by the cold weight of dread.
The shadow of the cultists loomed over Arkaneth once again.
---