The Warrior’s Tale

Chapter 2: The Warrior's Tales 

The next morning, Theron woke with a start, their heart pounding as if they'd been running in their dreams. The shard's glow still lingered in their mind, a faint echo of the strange vision they'd experienced the day before. They sat up, rubbing their eyes, and glanced out the small window of the loft. The sun was just beginning to rise, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold. 

For a moment, they considered going back to the merchant and buying the shard, but the thought of Old Man Garret's scowl stopped them. They didn't have the money, and even if they did, Garret would never let them waste it on "useless trinkets." Theron sighed and climbed down the ladder, their feet hitting the stable floor with a soft thud. 

The horses whinnied softly as they entered, their ears twitching in recognition. Theron grabbed a brush and began grooming a chestnut mare named Ember, their movements automatic as their mind wandered. What had the vision meant? And why had the shard felt so familiar? 

"Theron!" Garret's voice cut through their thoughts like a whip. "Stop dawdling and get the stalls ready. We've got guests coming today." 

"Guests?" Theron asked, pausing mid-brush. 

Garret grunted, leaning heavily on his cane. "Aye. Some warrior from Anger is passing through. She'll be staying the night, so make sure everything's in order." 

Theron's eyes widened. A warrior from Anger? Anger was one of the four nations that made up the continent of Empyrea, known for its fierce fighters and harsh landscapes. Theron had never met anyone from Anger before, and the thought of hearing stories from a real warrior sent a thrill through them. 

They finished their chores quickly, their excitement growing with each passing hour. By midday, the stables were spotless, and Theron was pacing near the village gates, waiting for the warrior's arrival. 

It wasn't long before a figure appeared on the horizon, walking with a confident stride that made Theron's breath catch. The warrior was a woman, tall and muscular, with skin the color of polished mahogany and hair braided into intricate patterns. She wore a leather tunic and a fur-lined cloak, and a massive sword was strapped to her back. Her eyes, a piercing amber, scanned the village with a sharp, calculating gaze. 

Theron hesitated, suddenly feeling small and insignificant. But before they could retreat, the warrior spotted them and approached, her boots crunching against the cobblestones. 

"You there," she said, her voice deep and commanding. "Where can I find the stables?" 

Theron swallowed hard. "I—I can show you. I work there." 

The warrior nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Good. Lead the way." 

As they walked, Theron stole glances at the warrior, their curiosity outweighing their nervousness. "Are you… are you really from Anger?" 

The warrior chuckled, a rich, warm sound that put Theron at ease. "I am. Name's Lira. And you?" 

"Theron," they said, their voice barely above a whisper. 

"Well, Theron," Lira said, her tone friendly but firm, "you've got questions written all over your face. Go ahead. Ask." 

Theron hesitated, then blurted out, "What's it like? Anger, I mean. Is it true that everyone there knows how to fight?" 

Lira laughed again, her amber eyes sparkling. "Not everyone, but close enough. Anger's a harsh land, and only the strong survive. But it's not all fighting. We've got our own traditions, our own stories. For example, when a child comes of age, they must undergo the Trial of Flame—a test of courage and endurance. Only then are they considered true warriors of Anger." 

Theron's eyes widened. "You've done the Trial of Flame?" 

Lira nodded, her expression turning serious. "I have. It's not something I'd wish on anyone, but it shapes you. Makes you stronger, inside and out." 

They reached the stables, and Lira unslung her pack, setting it down with a thud. Theron helped her settle her horse, a massive black stallion with a fiery temperament, and as they worked, Lira continued to share stories of her travels. She spoke of battles fought and won, of ancient ruins hidden deep in the forests, and of the strange, magical creatures that roamed the wilds. 

Theron listened, captivated, their earlier unease forgotten. For the first time in their life, they felt a spark of hope. If someone like Lira could travel the world, face danger, and come out stronger, then maybe—just maybe—they could too. 

As the sun began to set, Lira turned to Theron, her expression thoughtful. "You've got a curious mind, Theron. That's a good thing. But curiosity without action is just daydreaming. If you want to see the world, you've got to take the first step." 

Theron nodded, their resolve hardening. They didn't know how, but they were going to leave Briar Glen. They were going to find out what the shard meant, and maybe, just maybe, they'd find their place in the world. 

But as they turned to leave, Lira's sharp eyes caught something. She reached out, her hand brushing against Theron's arm. "Wait." 

Theron froze, their heart skipping a beat. "What is it?" 

Lira's gaze narrowed, her amber eyes studying Theron with an intensity that made them feel exposed. "There's something… different about you. I can't quite put my finger on it, but it's like you've got a spark inside you. A spark that's waiting to ignite." 

Theron's breath hitched. Could Lira sense their connection to the shard? They opened their mouth to respond, but no words came out. 

Lira leaned back, her expression unreadable. "Whatever it is, don't ignore it. Sparks like that don't come around often." 

That night, as Theron lay in their cot, their mind buzzed with possibilities. Lira's stories had ignited a fire within them, a desire for something more. But her words also stirred a deep unease. What if they weren't ready? What if they failed? 

As they drifted off to sleep, they dreamed of mountains and magic, of battles and adventures. But deep within the earth, another shard began to glow, its light pulsing in time with Theron's heartbeat.