Visitors

The scent of hot metal and woodsmoke curled through the air, thick and familiar, wrapping Garrick's workshop in its smoldering embrace. Faint light, struggling through the grime-streaked windows, caught dancing dust motes in its glow, revealing a world of half-finished projects, scattered tools, and the relentless heat radiating from the forge.

The rhythmic clang of Garrick's hammer against steel punctuated the air, a steady, commanding beat. Sparks leaped with each strike, casting fleeting, fiery reflections in his aging beard.

Lirien, perched on a rickety three-legged stool, swung her legs back and forth, her amber eyes flitting from object to object, taking in every detail of the cluttered space. Ronan and Malik, brothers in both blood and mischief, attempted to balance a stack of rusty shields. The metal clinked and scraped, their hushed laughter rising and falling between the sharp clang of Garrick's hammer.

Then—inevitably—metal clattered to the floor. A pause. A held breath. And then, more laughter, bright and unrepentant, breaking the heavy air of the workshop like a first breeze. They had come to visit Garrick, their eagerness to see him evident in their hurried arrival.

Agor sat quietly by the hearth, a mug of lukewarm tea warming his hands. He watched the three children with a mixture of curiosity and a hesitant longing. He wished he could be as carefree as they seemed. He'd been so consumed by the dread of the previous day, the weight of Rhaskhar's words, that the simple presence of other children—though his peers—felt… strange.

He stole a glance at Lirien. She was the friendliest of the three, her teasing humor laced with a spark of genuine curiosity. Her wild, untamed hair framed a face that was both mischievous and kind. He thought, briefly, that she was beautiful.

Garrick paused in his work, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "Alright, you little rascals," he grunted, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Enough clattering. What brings you three here today?"

Lirien hopped off the stool, her eyes sparkling.

"We came to visit, Garrick!" she exclaimed. "And…," she added with a sly grin, stealing a quick glance at Agor, "…maybe see what you've been forging."

Ronan and Malik exchanged a knowing glance, a shared secret smile flickering between them. They knew Garrick always had something interesting tucked away.

"And," Malik chimed in, "we heard you were back from your travels! Did you find any… shiny things?"

Garrick chuckled, setting down his hammer. "Shiny things, eh? Maybe a few." He reached for a worn leather pouch at his side and tossed a handful of dried berries onto the table. "Here, these should keep you quiet for a while."

The children eagerly grabbed the berries, their chatter momentarily subsiding as they munched on the sweet treats, wondering why they hadn't checked that leather pouch earlier.

Garrick's gaze softened as he looked at them. "How is your father, Lirien?"

Lirien's smile faltered slightly. "Father's well enough," she murmured. "Still mending shoes by the market."

Garrick nodded. He knew Lirien's father was a shoemaker, a hard-working man who had lost his wife to illness a few years back.

He turned to Ronan and Malik. "And your mother?"

"She's good," Ronan replied. "Busy as always, tending to the garden and…," he hesitated, "and keeping Malik out of trouble."

Malik playfully shoved his brother. "Hey!"

Garrick chuckled. He knew their mother well, a strong woman who ran a small bakery in the lower streets of the city.

"So," Lirien piped up, her mouth full of berries, "what kind of adventures did you have in the Westlands, Garrick? Did you fight any monsters?"

Garrick's expression turned thoughtful. "Saw a few," he said. "Nothing too exciting. Mostly just… scavenging."

"Did you take any of those your shiny red stones?" Malik asked, his eyes wide with anticipation.

Garrick nodded slowly. "Just one. I was lucky."

"Wow!" Ronan exclaimed. "Did you have to fight a Genju to get it?"

Garrick raised an eyebrow. "A Genju? Where did you hear about those?"

Lirien shrugged. "We heard some of the older kids talking about them. They said they're really powerful Enju, with… with magic blood!"

Garrick sighed. He hadn't intended to bring up such dangerous topics. "Those stories are mostly legends," he said, trying to downplay the danger. "Besides, those are tales for grown warriors, not children."

He changed the subject. "Speaking of warriors… you three are getting old enough to start thinking about the Trials of Fire."

The children's eyes widened. The Trials of Fire. A legendary test of courage and skill, held only once every thirty years. It was a grueling ordeal, designed to select the strongest and most resilient individuals to become Summoners. The last Trials had been thirty years ago, before any of them were born.

"The Trials?" Malik breathed. "But… those are for Summoners, right?"

Garrick nodded. "That's right. But even if you don't aspire to become a Summoner, the Trials are a good way to prove your strength and earn respect in Eaglestone."

"But they're really dangerous, aren't they?" Lirien asked, her voice a little quieter now.

Garrick's expression softened. "They are challenging, yes. But they are also a test of character. A chance to show what you're made of."

He paused, then added, "I participated in the Trials once, you know."

The children's eyes widened in surprise. "You did?" Ronan asked. "But… you're not a Summoner!"

Garrick chuckled. "That's true. I didn't quite make it to the end. An old leg injury slowed me down." He gestured towards his leg, a slight limp still noticeable.

"What was it like?" Malik pressed. "Did you fight any monsters?"

Garrick leaned back, his gaze drifting to the flickering flames in the hearth. "It was… intense," he said slowly. "The tasks were designed to push you to your limits. Physical tests, mental challenges… even facing your own fears."

"Did you fight an Enju?" Lirien asked, her voice filled with awe.

Garrick nodded. "I didn't then. But I did recently kill one, an injured one, thankfully. Even a weakened Enju is a formidable foe so am very much lucky." He paused, a faraway look in his eyes. "The day before I found Agor… that was a hunt I won't soon forget."

He took a slow sip of his tea, the firelight dancing on his weathered face. "I'd been tracking a crippled Enju for days. It had been wounded, likely by a fallen tree or something, and was dragging its hind leg. Slower than usual, but still dangerous. These creatures, even injured, are nothing to scoff at."

He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a near whisper, drawing the children in. "It was deep in the forest, near the Whispering Falls. The air was thick with the smell of damp earth and decay. The Enju's trail was easy enough to follow – a line of broken branches, patches of its shimmering green dark blood on the leaves. It led me to a small cave, hidden behind a curtain of vines."

Garrick paused, letting the suspense build.

"I crept inside, my blade drawn. The cave was dark, the only light coming from a small opening at the back. I could hear the Enju's ragged breathing, a low, guttural sound that sent shivers down my spine."

He mimed drawing his sword as he spoke. "And so I moved slowly, carefully, my senses on high alert. I knew it was injured, but I also knew it was cornered, which made it even more dangerous. These creatures, when backed into a corner, can be more vicious than any beast you've ever seen."

"And then?" Malik asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Garrick grinned. "And then… I saw it. It was huddled in the back of the cave, its green scales gleaming in the dim light. It was bigger than I expected, even injured. Its eyes, those cold, black eyes, were fixed on me. It hissed, a sound like air escaping a punctured lung, and tried to rise, but its injured leg gave way."

He chuckled.

"Even crippled, it was fast. It lunged at me, claws extended, jaws snapping. I rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding its attack. The smell of its breath… acrid, like rotting meat and swamp gas… it was enough to make my stomach turn."

Garrick mimed another sword swing.

"...I knew I had to act fast. I couldn't afford to let it get another chance. I lunged forward, my blade aimed at its throat. The Enju tried to dodge, but it was too slow. My blade found its mark. It shrieked, a high-pitched, chilling sound, and collapsed to the ground."

He paused, his gaze fixed on the fire, as if reliving the moment. "It wasn't a glorious battle," he admitted. "It was messy, brutal. But it was necessary. These creatures… they're a plague. They need to be stopped."

"Did you get an Orb?" Ronan asked, his eyes shining.

Garrick nodded. "I did. A small one, but an Orb nonetheless."

He reached into his pouch and pulled out a small, dark red orb, wrapped in a piece of cloth. It pulsed faintly in the firelight.

"Wow!" The children gasped.

"That's amazing!" Malik whispered.

Garrick smiled. "It's a valuable thing," he said. "Used to make powerful weapons. Weapons that can kill Enjus like my old sword." He hefted the sword, its worn leather grip gleaming in the firelight.

He glanced at Agor, who was watching him with wide, curious eyes. "Even the strongest warriors need good weapons," he added.

He carefully wrapped the orb back up and tucked it away. "Now," he said, changing the subject, "that's enough stories for tonight. It's getting late, and you three need to get home."

The children grumbled in protest, but they knew better than to argue with Garrick. They finished the last of their berries and reluctantly stood up.

Lirien paused by Agor, giving him a curious look. "You're pretty quiet," she said. "Don't you have any questions?"

Agor shrugged, feeling a little awkward. He hadn't spoken much since the children arrived, content to listen to their chatter and Garrick's stories. "Not really," he mumbled.

Lirien tilted her head, studying him for a moment. Then, she grinned disappointedly. "Well, maybe next time you'll have something to say."

She winked and then followed Ronan and Malik out the door.

Garrick watched them go, a thoughtful expression on his face. He turned to Agor, who was still sitting by the hearth, lost in his own thoughts.

"They're good kids," Garrick said quietly. "Full of energy and curiosity. You should try to be friends with them, you can't always be by yourself."

Agor nodded. He envied their easy laughter, their carefree spirit. He wondered if he had ever been like that.

Garrick sighed. "They remind me of myself when I was their age," he murmured. "Before… everything changed."

He fell silent, his gaze fixed on the fire. Agor could sense a shift in his mood, a sudden weight settling upon him.

After a long moment, Garrick spoke again, his voice low and serious. "There's something I want to tell you, Agor," he said. "Something about the Trials… and about Eaglestone."