The sun hung low over the village gates as Ryn approached, the shadow of the towering stone walls stretching across the dirt road ahead. The guards on either side of the gate glanced at him but said nothing. They didn't have to. The look in their eyes said it all: pity, mixed with a touch of disdain.
Ryn adjusted the strap of his worn pack and glanced at the Spirit Fox perched on his shoulder. Its small body radiated a soft, calming glow, but it looked at the guards with a sharpness that made Ryn smirk despite himself.
"At least one of us has some confidence," Ryn muttered, earning a quiet chirp from the fox.
"Ryn Altair." The stern voice stopped him just as he reached the gate. He turned to see Elder Velna, one of the village council members, standing at the base of the wall. Her gray robes billowed in the breeze, and her expression was as hard as the stone under her feet.
"You leave here with nothing but what you carry," she said coldly. "The guild has deemed you unfit, and the council has no reason to oppose their judgment. You are no longer welcome in Velira."
Ryn said nothing. He'd expected this—had prepared himself for it—but the words still stung.
Velna's gaze shifted to the fox on his shoulder. "If you're wise, you'll abandon that creature. It'll be more of a burden than a blessing."
Ryn clenched his fists. "We'll see about that."
The elder's lips tightened into a thin line, but she didn't respond. Instead, she gestured to the guards, who stepped aside to let him pass.
Without another word, Ryn walked through the gates, the weight of exile pressing heavily on his shoulders.
The Wildlands stretched out before him, an endless expanse of untamed wilderness dotted with jagged cliffs, dense forests, and rolling plains. It was beautiful in a wild, dangerous sort of way—a stark contrast to the orderly fields and cobbled streets of Velira.
The Spirit Fox leapt from his shoulder, landing gracefully on the dirt path. It trotted ahead a few steps, its glowing tail swaying gently as it explored its surroundings.
"You're braver than I am," Ryn muttered, shifting the pack on his back.
The fox paused and glanced back at him, tilting its head as if to say, What are you waiting for?
"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming."
Ryn stepped off the path, following the fox into the tall grass. Every sound seemed amplified out here—the rustle of leaves, the chirping of insects, the distant calls of beasts he couldn't identify. It was a reminder that he was truly alone now.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Ryn stopped at the edge of a shallow stream. The fox padded over to the water's edge, its reflection shimmering faintly in the ripples.
"This is as good a spot as any," Ryn said, dropping his pack and sitting on a flat rock.
He watched the fox for a moment, its small form glowing softly in the growing darkness. Despite everything—despite the humiliation, the exile, and the uncertainty of the road ahead—he couldn't bring himself to regret their bond.
"I don't know what you are," Ryn said quietly, "or why the Codex didn't recognize you. But we're in this together now. So, if you're willing to fight, I'll fight too."
The fox turned to him, its glowing blue eyes locking onto his. It let out a soft chirp, then leapt onto his lap, curling up as if to say, I'm with you.
Ryn chuckled softly. "Guess we don't have much of a choice, do we?"
He looked up at the sky, the stars beginning to appear one by one. Tomorrow, he'd have to figure out how to survive out here—how to find food, shelter, and a way to train. But for now, he let the quiet hum of their bond fill the silence.
In the distance, the faint howl of a beast echoed through the night.
Ryn's grip tightened on the small knife at his belt. The Wildlands weren't going to give him a warm welcome, but that was fine. He wasn't looking for one.