Argolaith's boots crunched softly on the dirt path, the steady rhythm of his footsteps in tune with the occasional rustle of leaves overhead.
The towering form of the mountain loomed ahead of him, growing ever closer with each passing day. Though the mountain itself seemed to remain distant, its shadow hung heavily over him, calling him to it like a beacon.
The air had started to change, becoming thinner and crisper as he ascended the lower foothills.
It wasn't just the terrain that had shifted; something about the environment felt different, as though the mountain itself was waiting for him.
"Well, it seems I'm getting closer," Argolaith muttered under his breath, glancing toward the peak that jutted into the sky, jagged and imposing.
His eyes narrowed as he calculated the distance in his mind. "I'd say I'm about 200 miles away from it now. Still, it'll take me several days to get there at this pace. The journey's a lot longer than I expected."
His pace had slowed over the last few days. The terrain was becoming more challenging—rocky outcroppings, uneven ground, and thick, dense forest slowed his movements.
And yet, the excitement of nearing his destination kept him going. The weight of his satchel had become a constant companion, but it wasn't just the supplies that burdened him.
There was something about the mountain itself that seemed to push him onward, a sense of urgency he couldn't quite explain.
As his mind wandered, Argolaith's thoughts shifted toward the last few months. He had been on the road for six weeks now, and in that time, so much had changed.
His travels had been arduous but rewarding. The constant search for rare herbs, potions, and creatures had kept him busy.
And yet, there were moments when his thoughts drifted back to simpler times—back to Seminah, the quiet town nestled at the foot of the forsaken Forest, where he had grown up.
The familiar sights and sounds of the town, the warmth of the hearth in his cabin, and the companionship of the one person he had called friend.
These were memories that seemed so distant now, fading into a fog as he pressed further into the unknown.
"What was it I was doing again?" he muttered, trying to shake off the wave of nostalgia.
His eyes flickered to the sky as the clouds began to gather. His mind had wandered further than he intended, drifting between thoughts of potions, elixirs, and his obsession with runic magic.
He had always been fascinated by the ancient art of rune making, an art he had studied from old, forgotten books in the quiet solitude of his cabin.
But something else—something far more personal—suddenly clicked in his mind.
"Wait a minute," he said, his voice cutting through the silence. A fleeting thought had crossed his mind, one that he had somehow forgotten to keep track of amidst his wandering. "Isn't my 16th birthday in three days?"
His heart skipped a beat at the realization. The days had passed in a blur since he left Seminah, and somehow, the passage of time had escaped his notice.
Six weeks already? He hadn't realized it had already been so long, but there was something about this journey that had gripped him.
It was not just about finding his five trees anymore—it was about proving something to himself.
There was a fire in his eyes that could not be extinguished, a feeling that he was meant for something more than the quiet life he had left behind.
"I can't believe it's already been six weeks since I left my cabin and the town of Seminah to look for my five trees," he muttered, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
It felt like only yesterday that he had set off, with nothing but his sword and storage ring, his knowledge of alchemy, his runes, and a vague sense of purpose to guide him.
The thought of his birthday surprised him, though. He had no family to speak of, and his friend—if he could call him that—was athos the old man in the library.
His journey had been solitary, There was a bittersweetness in that fact, but also a sense of freedom. His destiny, for better or worse, was his own to shape.
"Time really does fly when you're lost in the wilds," he chuckled to himself, the words carrying a note of irony.
But as his thoughts turned to his approaching birthday, a sudden sound interrupted his musings, cutting through the quiet of the forest.
Argolaith paused, his hand instinctively reaching for his sword at his waist. His senses flared, every muscle in his body tensing as he tried to identify the source of the sound.
It was faint at first—a rustling in the underbrush, a faint snap of branches, and then the unmistakable low growl of something that didn't belong in this part of the forest.
Without thinking, Argolaith dropped into a crouch, his eyes scanning the surroundings. The wind shifted, carrying with it the sharp scent of something predatory—something large, something fast.
His breath caught in his throat as he realized what was happening. A creature was near, and it was watching him.
The noise grew louder, and Argolaith's hand tightened around the hilt of his sword. His heart raced, adrenaline flooding his veins as he carefully moved into a stance, his body already preparing for the inevitable fight.
He couldn't afford to be caught off guard—not now. Not when he was so close to reaching the mountain.
There was a rustle in the nearby bushes, followed by the unmistakable sound of claws scraping against bark. The creature was closing in.
Argolaith's mind raced. Was it a pack of
Zorath's? A fenrir? No, those sounds were too deliberate, too cautious. This creature was smarter, more methodical. It was stalking him.
A flicker of movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention, and he instinctively rolled to the side as something lunged from the shadows.
The beast was fast—faster than anything he had encountered in this part of the forest.
Its eyes gleamed with hunger, a predator closing in on its prey.
It was a large, hulking creature, covered in shaggy fur and dark scales, with claws like knives and a mouth full of jagged teeth.
It reminded him of an oversized lynx, though this one had a predatory intelligence that sent a shiver down his spine.
Without hesitation, Argolaith drew his sword, the steel flashing in the dim light as he parried a swipe from the beast's claws.
The force of the impact nearly knocked him off his feet, but he kept his balance, stepping back and assessing his foe.
The creature growled, low and guttural, its lips curling back in a snarl as it circled him. Argolaith could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. It was only a matter of time before it struck again.
"This is not good," he muttered under his breath, shifting his stance. He couldn't afford to let the creature get too close.
He needed to make the first move, or it would be over before it had begun.
As the creature lunged again, Argolaith swung his sword in a wide arc, catching the beast across the shoulder.
It yelped in pain, stumbling back, but quickly regained its footing. The creature was agile, quick to recover, and it was determined.
Argolaith's sword was sharp, but so were its claws. Every strike he made was met with the sound of claws scraping against metal.
The fight seemed to last an eternity, each movement calculated and precise. Argolaith was fast, but so was the creature.
It ducked and weaved, avoiding his strikes while countering with swift, deadly swipes.
The ground around them was becoming littered with broken branches and disturbed foliage, the violence of the battle painting a scene of chaos.
Finally, Argolaith saw his opening. The creature lunged at him once more, its jaws snapping dangerously close to his face.
With a swift motion, Argolaith sidestepped, his blade catching the creature's exposed flank.
The beast screeched in agony, stumbling backward. It was injured, but not defeated.
Argolaith didn't hesitate. With a roar, he launched himself forward, driving the blade deep into the creature's side, piercing its heart.
The beast's body went limp, its blood staining the ground as it collapsed to the earth.
Breathing heavily, Argolaith stood over the creature's lifeless body. His chest heaved with the exertion of the fight, but his mind was already elsewhere, thinking of what came next.
He had survived, as he always did. But there was a coldness in his heart, a reminder of the world he inhabited—a world where only the strong survived, and the weak were prey.
The sounds of the forest returned, the silence broken only by the rustling of leaves and the distant call of birds.
Argolaith wiped his blade on the grass and sheathed it, his thoughts returning to his birthday.
"Well, that was an unexpected birthday gift," he muttered, his lips curling into a wry smile. "Happy birthday to me."
With a final glance at the beast's corpse, he put it in his storage ring and he began to walk again, the mountain still looming ahead.