Firstborne

3. The Journey

As the first light of dawn filtered through the dense canopy, Wes rose from his restless slumber. The group began to stir, the natural rhythm of their journey pulling them from sleep. Birds sang their morning songs, and the air held the crisp promise of a new day. Wes moved silently around the camp, gathering his belongings and ensuring their supplies were secure.
The travelers settled into their familiar routine, each movement honed by countless journeys. Morning fog lingered as they packed up their camp with practiced efficiency. Aria, the ethereal elf, danced through her tasks with an elegance as natural as her breathing. Her keen elven senses, attuned to every rustle and whisper of the forest, kept a vigilant watch. Bronn, the grizzled elder dwarf, carried the heavier burdens with ease, his gruff exterior masking a strength that defied his age. His every action spoke of seasoned resilience. Elandra, the steadfast human woman, knelt beside the child, her tender care a stark contrast to her hardened demeanor. In her gentle touch and soft words, she revealed a depth of compassion that lay beneath her determined exterior.
The forest became a labyrinth of towering trees and dense underbrush, alive with a symphony of natural sounds. Sunlight filtered through the leafy canopy in fragmented rays, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor, which was carpeted with a thick layer of moss and fallen leaves. The air was rich with the scent of earth and foliage, carrying the faint, sweet aroma of blooming wildflowers hidden amongst the greenery.
In the distance, the murmur of a babbling brook could be heard. Birds flitted between branches, their bright plumage a stark contrast against the vibrant greens and browns, while small woodland creatures scurried through the undergrowth, their presence marked only by the occasional rustle of leaves.
As the sun reached its zenith, casting golden rays through the canopy, the group stumbled upon an ancient stone marker. Time had cloaked it in a thick layer of emerald moss. The air around it was cool and filled with the earthy scent of the damp forest floor. Aria stepped forward with a sense of awe, her breath catching in her throat. Her delicate fingers brushed against the cold stone, feeling the intricate, timeworn runes carved deep into its surface.
The marker stood tall and robust, weathered but resilient against the passage of time. Veins of dark green moss snaked around its base, climbing up toward the center where the most prominent runes resided. Intricately etched patterns formed a circular design. Tiny droplets of morning dew clung to the grooves, catching the sunlight and casting a faint shimmer. The runes themselves were a tapestry of overlapping lines and curves.
"This is a waypoint," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes gleamed with a mix of relief and determination. "We're on the right path."
The group pressed on. Aria moved beside Wes, her eyes alight with curiosity that sparkled even in the dim forest light. "Tell me about Riazin," she asked.
Wes stiffened at the mention of his dragon, the pain of his loss still raw despite the years that had passed. The memory of Riazin's brilliant scales and piercing eyes flickered vividly in his mind. He took a deep breath, the crisp forest air filling his lungs and grounding him. "Riazin," he began, his voice heavy with emotion. His eyes grew distant, recalling the fierce loyalty and the bond they had shared. "He was more than just a dragon; he was a part of me. We trained together, grew together. He was playful, full of life. He had a way of making even the darkest days seem bright."
Aria listened intently, her expression soft with empathy. "What happened to him?" she asked. The question hung in the air, delicate and poignant. Wes's jaw tightened for a moment, and the distant cry of a bird punctuated the silent tension.
Wes's face darkened, the memory of that fateful day flooding back. "I had not completed the training to ride him. We had not finished the melding process." His voice wavered, each word a struggle. A heavy silence fell between them, the weight of Wes's sorrow palpable in the air.
Aria reached out, her touch gentle and comforting as she placed a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, Wes. Losing him must have been devastating."
"It was," Wes admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've carried that pain with me ever since. It's why I chose to live in isolation, away from everything and everyone."
"You don't have to be alone," Aria reassured him softly.
Wes looked at her, the sincerity in her eyes stirring something deep within him. For so long, he had closed himself off, building walls to protect his heart. But perhaps it was time to let those walls down, even just a little.
Aria's comforting words wrapped around him like a warm embrace. "Wes, it's okay to grieve. But realize that your past doesn't have to define your future. We're here with you now, and together, we can create new memories that honor what you've lost." Her voice was soothing, each word a balm to his wounded soul.
Aria's hand lingered on his arm, her touch warm and tender. She moved a bit closer, her eyes searching his with an intensity that made his heart beat faster. "You've been strong alone for so long," she continued, her voice softening to almost a whisper. "Let us share that strength with you. Let me be there for you, Wes."
As she squeezed his arm gently, her fingertips lightly brushed his skin, sending a shiver down his spine. Aria's gaze momentarily dipped to his lips before meeting his eyes again, revealing a hint of longing. The sincerity and subtle warmth in her eyes hinted at a deeper connection, a flicker of something more than just companionship.
Her free hand reached up to touch his cheek, caressing it softly. "You don't have to carry this burden alone," she murmured, her voice trembling with emotion. "Let me help you, let me lo-"
Suddenly, Ethan let out a startled cry, his voice echoing through the trees. The ground beneath him crumbled away, revealing a hidden pit concealed by leaves and debris. Wes grabbed a sturdy branch and extended it toward Ethan.
"Hold on, Ethan!" Wes shouted. Ethan clung to the branch desperately, his knuckles white with effort.
The group rallied around, their faces etched with concern. Aria's eyes darted between Wes and Ethan. Her heart pounded swiftly in her chest.
"Hold on!" Wes shouted, his muscles straining as he pulled Ethan to safety. The boy scrambled out of the pit, panting heavily.
Ethan gasped, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and relief. "Thank you, Wes," he panted, gripping the branch as if it were his lifeline.