Days passed.
Aerin walked without direction, driven only by the need to keep moving. The land stretched endlessly before him—dry, quiet, and unforgiving.
He survived on whatever he could catch. Small animals. Barely enough to sustain him. Water was scarce, sometimes nonexistent.
His body began to give in.
Step by step, his strength faded. His breathing grew heavier, his movements slower. Still, he refused to stop.
Until his legs failed him.
The ground rose to meet him, and the world tilted into darkness.
Aerin collapsed.
The wind carried the scent of ash across what remained of the village.
Hoofbeats broke the silence as a group of knights rode in, their armor catching faint light beneath the dull sky. They slowed as the destruction came into full view.
"What happened here…?" one of them muttered.
A man with blue hair dismounted first, his expression tightening.
"This was no small attack," he said. "Bandits, most likely. Spread out. Check for survivors."
The knights moved quickly, scanning the ruins.
"There are no bodies," one called out.
"Did they flee?" another asked.
"Captain!" a voice shouted from the far side. "You should see this."
They gathered around.
Before them lay a row of fresh graves.
Too many.
The blue-haired knight lowered his gaze.
"…By the Goddess."
"They were buried," another said quietly.
"Bandits wouldn't do that," someone replied.
The captain stepped forward, scanning the surroundings. His eyes landed on a cluster of bodies nearby.
"Those are not villagers."
The knights approached carefully.
"…Bandits," one confirmed. "They were killed."
"So they fought back," the captain said.
A younger knight clenched his fists, his voice tight.
"If I had been here…"
"It isn't your fault," another said, though the words carried little weight.
"The children here…" the younger knight continued, his voice softer now. "They looked up to us."
Silence followed.
"Captain, there are tracks."
They turned.
Small footprints.
Uneven.
Faint, but still visible.
"…A child," the captain said.
He looked ahead, eyes narrowing.
"He couldn't have gone far. Mount up."
The knights moved quickly, following the trail as it led away from the village.
The tracks became harder to see the farther they went, but they were there—disturbed earth, dragging marks, signs of exhaustion.
"There!"
A figure lay ahead.
Still.
Unmoving.
The knights slowed, approaching with caution before dismounting.
"…It's a child," one said.
They stepped closer.
The boy lay covered in dirt and dried blood, his clothes torn, his body worn to the edge of collapse.
The captain knelt beside him, placing a hand near his neck.
A pause.
"…He's alive."
"Barely," another added.
The wind moved past them, carrying the quiet weight of what had been lost.
The captain studied the boy's face.
"…What happened to you aeren?"
There was no answer.
Only silence.
But deep within Aerin—
something stirred.