Serathor: A World of Magic and Dragons

Beneath Open Skies

The sun was high in the sky, streaming through the dense canopy of leaves above and casting dappled shadows on the forest floor. Valira walked with an easy pace, her fingers brushing over the tips of ferns and wildflowers as she passed. For the first time in what felt like ages, she felt the tightness in her shoulders ease, the steady pulse of duty loosening its grip, if only for a moment. The usual weight of worry seemed to lift with each step, as if the trees themselves were inviting her to relax, to let the beauty of the forest wash over her.

Beside her, Joren was similarly at ease, his steps light, a soft hum escaping him as they continued through the greenery. The trail wound its way through the forest, eventually opening up to a wide, sunlit meadow stretched out before them like a sea of green and gold, dotted with bright wildflowers in hues of lavender, crimson, and white. The sun's warm glow illuminated everything in a soft, hazy light, filling the landscape with a kind of magic that made the world feel far simpler and kinder.

Valira's eyes sparkled as she took in the sight, and she let out a contented sigh. "I'd forgotten how beautiful this place can be," she murmured, her voice almost reverent.

Joren gave her a sidelong glance, a smirk creeping onto his face. "Starting to sound like a real nature enthusiast, aren't we?"

She rolled her eyes, but a playful smile tugged at her lips. "And you're one to talk, Mr. 'Camping Expert.' I remember that fire you almost set ablaze on our last mission."

Joren's eyes widened in mock offense, placing a hand over his heart as he gave her an exaggerated gasp. "I'll have you know I am an excellent camper. Just because I like a little excitement when setting up camp doesn't mean I'm reckless."

"Is that what we're calling it now?" she teased, arching an eyebrow. "Excitement?"

"Oh, it is. In fact, I'd say my fire-starting skills are nothing short of legendary," he replied with a grin, his confidence impossible to resist.

Valira let out a soft chuckle, her eyes dancing with mischief. She dropped her pack onto the soft grass of the meadow, brushing her hands together as she turned to him. "Legendary, huh? Then prove it. I bet I can get a fire going faster than you can."

Joren's eyebrows shot up, his grin widening as he crossed his arms. "Is that a challenge? Because if it is, I accept."

She knelt down, gathering a handful of twigs and dried leaves, arranging them carefully in a small teepee formation. As she struck her flint, a spark caught almost immediately, igniting the tinder and sending up a small, steady flame. The fire crackled cheerfully, casting a warm glow in the sunlight, the smoke curling lazily into the air.

"Done," she announced, leaning back with a self-satisfied smirk.

Joren raised his hands in surrender, letting out a laugh. "All right, you win this one," he admitted, shaking his head in mock defeat. "But I still maintain it's only because I let you."

"Of course," she replied, rolling her eyes, her voice laced with sarcasm. "I'm sure that's exactly what happened."

They settled down around the small fire, its warmth pleasant even in the afternoon sun. Joren reached into his pack, pulling out a small loaf of bread he'd managed to snag back in the village. Breaking off a piece, he offered it to her, grinning as she took it with a curious look.

"You know," he said between bites, "I've been meaning to ask. What is your favorite food? Please tell me it's not something fancy, like dragonfruit or some rare Velorian delicacy I'd never be able to find."

Valira snorted, breaking off a piece of bread as she chewed thoughtfully. "Dragonfruit? No, I'm afraid I'm not quite that high maintenance. But honey cakes—now those are a weakness of mine. Sweet, sticky, messy... what's not to love?"