The Whisperwood Forest had shed its wintry slumber, its towering pines adorned with fresh green needles and delicate buds. The crisp air carried the sweet scent of blooming wildflowers, mingling with the earthy aroma of damp soil. In the village square, the buzz of activity echoed the season's energy, with farmers tending their sprouting fields and hunters sharpening their blades in preparation for longer days.
Rynar moved among the villagers with quiet purpose, his broad shoulders and confident stride cutting a path through the bustling crowd. At thirteen, he was nearly as tall as Kael, his body strong and honed from years of work. His green eyes, bright and sharp, missed nothing as he carried a stack of timber toward the storehouse.
The square brimmed with life. Children darted between carts and stalls, their laughter mixing with the rhythmic hammering from the smithy. Vendors called out cheerfully, their goods displayed on makeshift tables—wild herbs, woven baskets, and small trinkets traded from passing merchants.
"Morning, Rynar!" Mari called from her bakery stall, flour dusting her apron.
"Morning," Rynar replied, his voice steady as he set the timber down neatly. "Need help with anything?"
Mari chuckled, waving him off. "Not unless you can bake a loaf faster than me."
Rynar smirked faintly but moved on, his focus shifting to the tasks Kael had assigned for the day. Around him, the villagers greeted him warmly, their once-cautious smiles now full of trust and admiration.
Across the square, Lyra practiced her firecraft near the chief's home, her slender hands guiding a small flame that danced between her fingers. At twelve, her control had grown immensely, her confidence reflected in the fluidity of her movements. She was no longer the timid girl who feared her gift; she wielded it with precision and pride.
As Rynar passed, their eyes met briefly. Lyra offered a small, knowing smile before returning her focus to the flame. Their bond had deepened over the years, marked by shared moments of quiet understanding and mutual respect.
---
The clatter of wagon wheels drew the villagers' attention as a caravan appeared at the edge of the square. The lead merchant, a grizzled man named Harin, climbed down with practiced ease, his weathered face breaking into a grin.
"Good morning, Whisperwood!" Harin called, spreading his arms theatrically. "I bring goods, stories, and news—take your pick."
The villagers gathered quickly, their curiosity piqued by the rare visit. Harin's caravan was a familiar sight, and his arrival always brought a sense of excitement.
Kael approached the merchant, his arms crossed but his expression friendly. "Harin, what brings you this way?"
Harin gestured to his wagon, its contents covered with a heavy tarp. "Trade, as always. But there's news, too—news you'll want to hear."
Kael's brow furrowed. "What kind of news?"
Harin's voice lowered slightly, drawing the crowd closer. "Knights from the Dominion. They're making their rounds again—checking for mana users, potential recruits."
A murmur rippled through the villagers. The Dominion's knights were figures of legend, their power both revered and feared. For Whisperwood, a visit from the knights was a rare event, one that carried both promise and uncertainty.
"When are they coming?" Aldric asked, his staff tapping against the cobblestones as he stepped forward.
Harin shrugged. "Could be weeks, could be months. But they're coming. Word is, they're looking for affinities, especially among the young."
The news settled heavily over the crowd. While some whispered excitedly about the opportunities the knights might bring, others exchanged wary glances, their unease evident.
As the villagers dispersed, Harin shared another piece of news with Kael and Aldric. "The roads are getting dangerous," he said grimly. "Bandits, strange beasts—there's talk of people disappearing near the forest edges."
Kael frowned, his jaw tightening. "We haven't seen anything unusual here."
"Yet," Harin said pointedly. "But it's only a matter of time. Best to be prepared."
Aldric nodded thoughtfully. "We'll take precautions. Thank you, Harin."
---
That evening, Kael gathered the hunters in the square, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of lanterns. Rynar stood among them, his presence steady and commanding despite his age.
"We need to scout the forest outskirts," Kael said, his voice firm. "If there's any truth to these rumors, we need to know what we're dealing with."
The hunters murmured their agreement, though unease lingered in their expressions. Kael's gaze settled on Rynar. "You'll come with us. Your strength might make the difference."
Rynar nodded, his green eyes steady. "When do we leave?"
"First light," Kael replied. "Get some rest. We'll need everyone sharp."
---
As the village settled into the calm of night, Rynar found himself lingering near the stream on the forest's edge. The water shimmered under the moonlight, its soft murmuring soothing his restless thoughts.
Lyra approached quietly, her footsteps light. "You're going tomorrow," she said, her tone gentle but certain.
Rynar glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "It's just a scout. Nothing serious."
She tilted her head, studying him. "You always say that."
He smirked faintly. "Because it's true."
Lyra stepped closer, her brown eyes searching his face. "Be careful, Rynar. The forest... it's not the same as it used to be."
"I will," he promised, his voice low but firm.
For a moment, they stood in silence, the night air cool against their skin. Then Lyra offered a small smile. "Don't do anything reckless."
Rynar chuckled softly. "Me? Reckless?"
Lyra rolled her eyes but smiled, the tension between them easing. "Just come back in one piece."
"I will," he said again, his tone softer this time.
As the first rays of dawn broke over the Whisperwood Forest, casting a golden glow over the village, Rynar prepared for the day ahead. The forest waited, its secrets hidden beneath the canopy of spring growth. And as the hunters set out, the whispers of danger followed close behind.