The air grew warmer as Changra descended into the valley, the faint hum of life becoming clearer with every step. Smoke from chimneys curled lazily into the sky, carrying with it the scent of burning wood and something faintly sweet, like honeyed bread. The village sprawled before him, small but vibrant, its buildings crafted from pale stone and wood that seemed to shimmer faintly in the sunlight.
Changra's steps slowed as he approached the first cluster of houses. The architecture was simple yet elegant, with roofs sloping gently and windows framed with intricate carvings that resembled vines. Small gardens lined the dirt pathways, bursting with colorful plants that swayed gently in the breeze. A soft murmur of voices reached his ears, accompanied by the occasional clatter of tools or the distant laughter of children.
For a moment, he hesitated at the edge of the village, his hand tightening around the strap of his bag. The past three months had taught him to be wary—people didn't trust strangers, especially ones who looked like they'd been through hell. His ragged clothes, wild hair, and gaunt features would do little to inspire confidence.
"Alright, Kael," he muttered under his breath, testing the name he'd decided to adopt. "Time to play the charming wanderer. Easy, right?"
The sound of footsteps drew his attention, and he turned to see a young woman walking down the path toward him. She was carrying a basket filled with what looked like herbs, her silver hair catching the sunlight. Her gray eyes met his, widening slightly as she took in his appearance. For a moment, Changra braced himself for suspicion—or worse.
Instead, she smiled.
"Hello there," she said, her voice light and warm. "You look like you've come a long way."
Changra blinked, caught off guard by her friendly demeanor. "Uh, yeah," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "Something like that."
She tilted her head, studying him with a curious expression. "You must be starving. Come, we'll find you something to eat."
Before he could protest, she turned and started walking toward the village center, gesturing for him to follow. Changra hesitated for a moment, then sighed and trudged after her. "Well, that was easy," he muttered under his breath. "Guess I don't look too threatening."
The village center was bustling with activity, a small marketplace set up around a large, circular fountain. Villagers moved between stalls, exchanging goods and greetings. Most of them shared the same distinctive features as the young woman—silver hair, gray eyes, and a quiet grace that seemed almost otherworldly.
Changra felt the weight of their gazes as he entered the square, the chatter softening as people noticed the stranger in their midst. He shifted uncomfortably, his smirk flickering into place like a shield. "Nice place you've got here," he said, his voice light. "Real cozy."
The young woman leading him smiled again, unfazed by the stares. "Don't mind them," she said. "We don't get many visitors. It's not often someone stumbles across our little village."
"Lucky me," Changra muttered.
She stopped in front of a stall piled high with loaves of bread, their golden crusts glistening in the sunlight. The vendor, an older man with a neatly trimmed beard, raised an eyebrow as he looked Changra over. "Who's this, Meryn?" he asked, his tone more curious than suspicious.
"A traveler," she replied simply. "He's hungry."
The man nodded, reaching for a loaf and handing it to Changra without hesitation. "On the house," he said gruffly. "You look like you need it."
Changra took the bread, his fingers brushing against the warm crust. For a moment, he could only stare at it, his mind struggling to process the kindness. "Uh, thanks," he said finally, his voice softer than usual.
Meryn turned to him, her smile unwavering. "You'll find we're a welcoming bunch," she said. "Come, there's more to see."
She led him through the marketplace, pointing out various stalls and introducing him to the villagers they passed. Despite his initial discomfort, Changra found himself relaxing slightly. The people here weren't just kind—they were genuine, their warmth untainted by suspicion or fear.
As they reached the far end of the square, Meryn stopped in front of a small building with an arched doorway. "This is the community hall," she said. "It's where we gather for meals and meetings. You're welcome to join us later."
Changra glanced around, the smirk on his lips softening into something closer to a genuine smile. "You're really just letting me walk in here, no questions asked?" he asked, half-joking.
Meryn's expression turned thoughtful. "Everyone deserves a chance," she said simply. "Even those who've lost their way."
Her words struck a chord, and for a moment, Changra was at a loss for how to respond. He nodded silently, his gaze dropping to the loaf of bread in his hands.
"Thank you," he said finally, his voice quiet.
"Welcome to the village," Meryn said with a smile.
The village felt surreal, almost dreamlike. Changra couldn't remember the last time he'd been surrounded by so much life, so much warmth. The gentle murmur of conversation, the soft laughter of children darting between stalls, even the clinking of coins exchanging hands—it all felt like a world apart from the chaos he'd endured.
Meryn walked ahead, her silver hair shimmering in the sunlight, but she slowed occasionally to point out details he might have missed. "That's the forge," she said, gesturing to a modest building with smoke curling from its chimney. "Old Bren runs it. He makes tools, armor, and even the occasional trinket if you're lucky enough to catch him in a good mood."
Changra glanced toward the forge, where a burly man with soot-streaked arms hammered away at a glowing piece of metal. The rhythmic clang echoed through the square, a steady reminder of the village's industrious spirit.
"Looks like he means business," Changra said, his smirk returning faintly. "Guess I'll hold off on asking for a sword."
Meryn chuckled. "Bren's gruff, but he has a soft spot for newcomers. Just don't tell him I said that."
They continued down a winding path that led away from the marketplace. The houses here were smaller, tucked closer together, their gardens brimming with vibrant flowers and vegetables. Changra noticed a few villagers tending to their plants, their movements calm and deliberate. They glanced up as he passed, their expressions curious but not unkind.
"So, what's the story here?" Changra asked, breaking the comfortable silence. "This village—how does a place like this stay… untouched?"
Meryn's smile faltered slightly, a shadow passing over her features. "We're isolated," she said carefully. "Far from the larger cities, far from… trouble. It's how we've survived."
Changra caught the hesitation in her voice but didn't press. Instead, he nodded, his gaze drifting to the horizon. "Makes sense. Trouble tends to find people who don't want it, though."
Meryn's smile returned, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Let's hope it doesn't find us."
They reached a small clearing at the edge of the village, where a cluster of children were playing near a shallow stream. Their laughter rang out, bright and carefree, as they splashed in the water and chased each other across the rocks. Changra paused, watching them with a mixture of envy and longing.
"Do you have children where you're from?" Meryn asked, her tone light but curious.
Changra hesitated, his smirk fading. "Not… like this," he said carefully. "Where I'm from, kids don't get to play much. Too busy surviving."
Meryn tilted her head, studying him with a thoughtful expression. "And what about you?" she asked softly. "Did you get to play?"
The question caught him off guard, and for a moment, he couldn't find the words to answer. His gaze dropped to the stream, the reflection of the children flickering on its surface. "Not really," he said finally, his voice quieter than usual. "Not much to play with when you're running from…" He trailed off, shaking his head. "Doesn't matter."
Meryn didn't press further, instead gesturing toward a nearby bench. "Come on. You've been on your feet long enough."
Changra followed her to the bench, the wooden surface worn smooth by time. He sat down with a sigh, the loaf of bread still cradled in his hands. For a moment, they sat in companionable silence, the sound of the stream and the children's laughter filling the air.
"You're welcome to stay here, you know," Meryn said eventually, her voice gentle. "If you need a place to rest, we have room."
Changra glanced at her, his brow furrowing. "Just like that? You don't even know me."
"We don't need to," she replied simply. "We judge people by their actions, not their past."
Her words struck something deep within him, stirring a mix of gratitude and unease. He turned the loaf of bread over in his hands, his fingers tracing the ridges of the crust. "You're too kind," he said finally, his voice tinged with something he couldn't quite place. "I'm not used to that."
"Then maybe it's time you got used to it," Meryn said with a smile.
Changra didn't respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the stream. For the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to believe—if only for a moment—that he could start over. That maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to belong.
Changra leaned back against the bench, the loaf of bread resting in his lap. The quiet sounds of the village—the distant hammering at the forge, the murmur of conversations, and the laughter of children—wrapped around him like a soft blanket. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the world didn't feel like it was pressing down on him.
But questions burned in his mind, and he couldn't let them go unanswered.
"So," he began, his tone casual but probing, "what's the deal with this place? I mean, you said it's isolated, but Elakia doesn't strike me as a 'safe' kind of world. How do you all keep things so… peaceful?"
Meryn glanced at him, her gray eyes thoughtful. "It's not easy," she admitted. "We've built a community that values harmony and trust, but we're not immune to danger. We've had to defend ourselves more than once."
"Defend yourselves how?" Changra asked, leaning forward slightly. "I didn't see any guards or walls."
Meryn smiled faintly. "We have our ways. Most of us are trained in basic magic or combat, though we only use it when absolutely necessary. And the land itself offers some protection. The creatures that prowl Elakia's wilds tend to avoid this valley."
Changra raised an eyebrow. "Convenient."
"Fortunate," Meryn corrected, her tone light. "Elakia is unpredictable. You've seen that yourself, haven't you?"
He nodded, his mind flickering to the countless strange and dangerous encounters he'd had over the past three months. "Yeah, you could say that. This place is… different. Back where I'm from, we don't have glowing trees or giant fox-caterpillar things."
Meryn tilted her head, curiosity sparking in her eyes. "Where are you from, Kael? If you don't mind me asking."
Changra hesitated, his smirk faltering for a moment. "Far away," he said vaguely. "A place where magic's just… stories. And people aren't exactly kind."
Meryn nodded slowly, sensing his reluctance to elaborate. "Well, you're not there anymore," she said gently. "You're here, in Elakia. And for what it's worth, I think you belong here more than you realize."
"Not sure about that," Changra muttered, his gaze dropping to the loaf of bread in his hands. After a beat, he cleared his throat and looked back at her. "So, what's the deal with magic here? Is everyone born with it?"
"Not everyone," Meryn replied. "Magic flows through Elakia, like a river. Some people are naturally attuned to it, while others aren't. Those who can use it are trained to control it, to keep the balance."
"Balance," Changra echoed, the word feeling foreign on his tongue. "You make it sound like magic's got rules."
"It does," Meryn said. "Magic isn't just power—it's a responsibility. When it's misused, it disrupts the harmony of the world."
Changra let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Harmony doesn't seem to be Elakia's strong suit. Feels like everything's either trying to kill me or mess with my head."
Meryn's expression turned serious. "Elakia is dangerous, yes. But it's also beautiful. It reflects the hearts of those who walk its lands. That's why it's so unpredictable—people are unpredictable."
Changra frowned, her words stirring something uncomfortably close to self-reflection. "So, what does that say about me?" he asked quietly, half-joking. "If Elakia's been nothing but chaos since I got here?"
Meryn smiled gently. "It says you're still finding your way."
He snorted, leaning back against the bench. "That's one way to put it. So, what else should I know about this place? Any more surprises I should be ready for?"
"Plenty," she said with a soft laugh. "Elakia is vast, with more wonders and dangers than I could ever describe. There are floating cities in the sky, forests that sing, and seas of glass. But there are also shadows—places corrupted by greed and power. You'll need to be careful."
Changra tilted his head, intrigued. "Floating cities, huh? Sounds like something out of a dream."
"It feels like one," Meryn said, her gaze distant as if recalling a memory. "But Elakia's beauty often hides its dangers. Don't let it fool you."
"Noted," Changra said, his smirk returning faintly. "So, what about you? You ever leave this place, or is the village your whole world?"
"I've traveled some," Meryn admitted. "But this village is my home. It's where I belong."
"Must be nice," Changra said softly, his smirk fading. "Having a place like that."
Meryn glanced at him, her expression unreadable. "You'll find your place too, Kael. Maybe sooner than you think."
He didn't respond, the weight of her words settling over him. The thought of belonging felt like a distant dream—one he wasn't sure he deserved.
Meryn slowed her pace as they walked back toward the heart of the village, her curious gaze settling on Changra. "You know," she said thoughtfully, "for someone who claims to be a traveler, you don't exactly look… prepared."
Changra raised an eyebrow, his smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "What gave it away? The tattered clothes or the general 'I've been through hell' vibe?"
Meryn chuckled softly, her silver hair glinting in the sunlight. "Both, actually. But I'm serious—what's your story? Where did you come from before… all this?"
Changra hesitated, his steps slowing for a moment. "Far from here," he said vaguely, then sighed. "Alright, alright. You're not going to let this go, are you?"
"Not a chance," Meryn replied with a grin. "Come on, I'm curious."
He adjusted the strap of his bag and looked ahead, his tone more measured now. "Alright. Picture this: a place with no magic. No glowing trees, no floating cities. Just… plain, ordinary life."
Meryn tilted her head, her brow furrowing. "No magic? That's hard to imagine. How does anything work?"
"Not very well," Changra quipped, his smirk returning. "But seriously, it's… different. We rely on machines and tools to get things done. And people—well, they're not exactly what you'd call harmonious."
Meryn's expression grew thoughtful. "It sounds lonely."
Changra shrugged, his smirk fading slightly. "It is. Or at least, it was for me."
She glanced at him, her gray eyes softening. "And what brought you here? To Elakia, I mean."
That was a question he didn't know how to answer—not fully. The truth was tangled up in chaos, violence, and forces beyond his understanding. So, he did what he always did: he gave her a version of the truth.
"Bad luck, mostly," he said with a dry laugh. "Got caught up in something I didn't understand. One moment, I was trying to survive, and the next… here I am."
Meryn nodded slowly, as if piecing together his words. "You sound like someone who's seen a lot."
"More than I wanted to," he admitted quietly.
They reached the inn, a modest building with wooden beams and a sign swinging gently in the breeze. The smell of fresh bread and roasted meat wafted from the open windows, making Changra's stomach growl.
Meryn pushed open the door, gesturing for him to follow. "You'll like it here," she said with a smile. "The innkeeper, Maela, is one of the kindest people in the village."
Changra stepped inside, the warmth of the room enveloping him like a blanket. The interior was cozy, with a crackling fireplace and wooden tables scattered around. A few villagers sat near the hearth, their laughter mingling with the clinking of mugs.
Behind the counter stood a stout woman with silver hair pulled into a neat bun. She looked up as they entered, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in Changra's appearance.
"Meryn," the woman said, her tone pleasant but cautious. "Who's your friend?"
"This is Kael," Meryn replied, placing a reassuring hand on Changra's arm. "He's a traveler. I thought he could use a place to rest."
The woman's expression softened as she nodded. "Well, any friend of yours is welcome here." She turned to Changra, her tone warm now. "You look like you've had a rough journey. We'll fix you up right."
"Thanks," Changra said, his voice softer than usual. "I appreciate it."
Meryn guided him to a table near the fire, where he sank into a chair with a grateful sigh. She sat across from him, her curious gaze lingering. "So," she said, her voice teasing, "is Kael even your real name?"
Changra smirked, leaning back in his chair. "What do you think?"
"I think you're good at dodging questions," she replied, her grin widening. "But that's alright. Everyone has their secrets."
"Secrets keep things interesting," he said lightly, though there was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes. "Besides, the name fits, doesn't it?"
Meryn studied him for a moment, then nodded. "It does," she said simply. "Kael suits you."
For the first time in a long while, Changra felt a faint sense of ease. The fire crackled beside them, its warmth chasing away the lingering chill of the outside world. For now, at least, he could rest.