Kingdom of eagle

3

With the kingdom of Aetheris fading into the distance behind him, Arion flew alone, his wings cutting through the cold evening air. His heart felt heavy as he made his vow—he would not return until he had proven himself worthy, not just to his father, but to himself. The memory of his defeat was still fresh, replaying in his mind like a cruel echo. He had failed, yes, but that failure would not define him. There had to be something more out there, something that would give him the strength and wisdom he lacked.

He thought of his father, King Thalor, standing stoically at the finish line, watching his only son fall short of expectations. Arion had always wanted to make him proud, but now, all he could feel was shame. His father had never said a word of disappointment, but the silence was even worse. Arion knew that no amount of training could have prepared him for the harsh winds of the Great Sky Race. It wasn’t just physical strength he needed—it was something deeper, something he hadn’t yet discovered.

The open sky stretched out endlessly before him, and though he had no clear destination, he pushed forward, letting the wind guide him. He wasn’t sure where his journey would take him, but he knew one thing: he wouldn’t return to Aetheris until he had become the eagle his kingdom needed. With determination hardening his resolve, he flew faster, putting more distance between himself and the place he had once called home.

Days passed as Arion flew over unfamiliar terrain. The once-familiar skies of Aetheris were long gone, replaced by foreign landscapes—towering mountains, deep valleys, and vast oceans that seemed to stretch on forever. The first few days were relatively easy, with Arion still fueled by the adrenaline and determination from his departure. The wind, though unpredictable at times, was mostly kind to him, and he made good progress.

But as the days wore on, his energy began to wane. His wings, once strong and full of purpose, grew heavier with each passing hour. The cold, biting winds of the mountain peaks sapped his strength, and the relentless sun during the daytime made his feathers hot and uncomfortable. Hunger gnawed at his belly, and though he occasionally spotted small game below, his exhaustion made hunting impossible.

The nights were the hardest. With no kingdom to return to, Arion had to find shelter wherever he could—a rocky outcropping here, a forest canopy there. His sleep was fitful, haunted by dreams of the race and the faces of the other eagles as they left him behind. But no matter how tired he was, Arion refused to turn back. He had made a vow, and he intended to keep it.

One afternoon, as he flew over a vast ocean, the fatigue became nearly unbearable. The endless expanse of water stretched out below him, and for the first time, he felt a pang of fear. What if he couldn’t find land before nightfall? What if he didn’t have the strength to make it? The thought of plunging into the cold, unforgiving waters filled him with dread, but he pushed the fear aside and kept flying. He had to believe there was something waiting for him beyond the horizon.

After days of endless travel, Arion’s body could take no more. His wings, once powerful and graceful, now trembled with exhaustion. Every beat of his wings felt like a monumental effort, and his vision blurred from hunger and fatigue. He hadn’t eaten in days, and his body was crying out for rest. But he couldn’t stop. Not yet.

The landscape below him had changed from the rocky mountains and vast oceans to something more welcoming—lush green fields, small villages, and winding rivers. He could see signs of life below, signs that he had entered the human world. But even this change in scenery wasn’t enough to lift his spirits. He was too weak, too tired to care. All that mattered now was finding a place to land.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange, Arion’s wings gave out. His body could no longer keep him aloft, and he began to descend rapidly. He tried to control the fall, but his exhaustion made it impossible. The ground rushed up to meet him, and with a final, desperate flap of his wings, he crash-landed into a small farm nestled at the edge of a forest.

The impact knocked the wind out of him, and for a moment, everything went dark. When Arion regained consciousness, he found himself lying in a field, the tall grass gently swaying in the evening breeze. His body ached all over, and he could barely move. His wings were folded awkwardly beneath him, and he could feel the weight of his exhaustion pressing down on him like a heavy blanket.

He tried to stand, but his legs wobbled beneath him, and he collapsed back onto the ground. He was too weak, too tired. All he could do was lie there, staring up at the darkening sky, wondering if this was the end of his journey.

Just as Arion was about to succumb to the darkness, he heard footsteps approaching. They were soft at first, but grew louder as they drew closer. Arion tried to lift his head, but he was too weak to move. He could only lie there, listening to the sound of someone—or something—coming toward him.

The footsteps stopped, and for a moment, there was silence. Then, a gentle voice broke the stillness. “Well, what do we have here?” it said, full of curiosity and kindness. Arion felt a shadow fall over him, and through his blurred vision, he saw the outline of a figure standing above him.

The figure knelt down, and Arion could make out the face of an elderly man with kind eyes and a long, flowing beard. His clothes were simple, but there was something about him that radiated wisdom and warmth. The man reached out and gently touched Arion’s feathers, his expression thoughtful.

“You’ve come a long way, haven’t you?” the man said softly. “But you’ve pushed yourself too hard. Rest now, little one. You’re safe here.”

With that, the man carefully lifted Arion into his arms, cradling him as if he were a precious treasure. As they made their way toward a small cottage at the edge of the field, Arion finally allowed himself to relax. He didn’t know who this man was, but something about his presence made Arion feel safe, as if he had finally found the refuge he had been searching for.

The man, Master Eldrin, carried Arion inside, laying him down on a soft bed of straw. “You’re not just any ordinary eagle, are you?” Eldrin said with a smile. “I can tell. There’s something special about you.”

Arion wanted to respond, to explain who he was and why he had come, but exhaustion overcame him. As his eyes fluttered shut, the last thing he heard was Eldrin’s voice, gentle and reassuring. “Rest now. Tomorrow, we’ll see about getting you back on your feet.” And with that, Arion drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.