EverRealm

Campfire Confessions

The night air was cool, and the stars twinkled brightly overhead, casting a soft glow on the campsite. Miri was sleeping blissfully in her bedroll. Sofia with Clover curled up beside her. Koa was nesting in a tree. Elora tossed and turned in her sleep as she slept on her bedroll. Images flashed behind her eyelids - herself running through dark streets, laughing with a band of rogues. A man in a bright red coat called out orders, his face always just out of focus. In her dream, she felt the thrill of something forbidden, heard the clink of coins, saw moonlight glinting off stolen treasures. With a gasp, she woke, her heart pounding against her ribs.

Pressing her palm against her temple, she squinted through the darkness. The campfire still burned low, and there sat Cedric, hunched over and alone, poking at the flames, lost in thought.

Elora wrapped her blanket around her shoulders and padded over to him. The ground felt cool beneath her bare feet.

"Cedric, are you alright?" she asked softly.

He nearly jumped out of his skin, his wand clattering to the ground. "Merlin's mushrooms! I thought you were asleep."

"Tried to be." She settled on the log beside him, close enough that their shoulders almost touched.

A crackling fire illuminated the faces of Cedric and Elora as they sat across from each other, the warmth of the flames a comforting contrast to the weight of Cedric's thoughts.

Elora poked the fire with a long stick, sending sparks dancing into the night sky like tiny fireflies. The golden light played across her elvish features as she glanced at Cedric, who was staring into the flames, his brow furrowed. His slender fingers nervously twisted the hem of his purple robe, a habit she'd noticed whenever something troubled him.

"What's on your mind? You seem really down for someone who's gotten a new wand. "Is it what those golems said back there?"" she asked gently, sensing the turmoil behind his quiet demeanor.

Cedric's fingers twisted the purple fabric of his robe, a nervous habit he couldn't shake. The forest around them seemed to hush, as if waiting for his answer.

Cedric hesitated, the flickering light casting shadows across his face. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, wrestling with inner demons that had followed him from Enchancia.

"I have a confession," he finally said, his voice low and steady, though Elora could detect a slight tremor beneath his words. "Something I've kept buried for far too long."

Elora leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. The log beneath her creaked as she shifted closer. "You can tell me anything, Cedric," she assured him, her eyes reflecting the dancing flames.

Taking a deep breath, Cedric began, his shoulders hunched slightly as if carrying an invisible burden.

"Back in Enchancia, before you... I wasn't exactly the noble sorcerer you might think."

"Go on," she encouraged, leaning forward, her face painted gold by the firelight.

"I was a laughingstock," he blurted. "Nothing I did worked right. It started at my sister's sorceress ball years ago. Her hair potion got mixed with my smoke spell. The disaster left her looking like a frizzled mop. She never let me forget it. Neither my father nor my mother could fix her hair until Sofia and Calista found out what it was that caused it."

He paused, clenching his fists as a wave of shame washed over him. "I can still hear their laughter," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Everyone called me 'Cedric the Bungler.' Even my father—the famous Goodwin the Great—couldn't hide his disappointment. He'd always rush to fix my messes, making everything worse."