Chapter 1 - Fields Left Behind

Sora stood next to his dresser. Behind him were three open sacks, two filled, and the last flopped on its side. He pulled a drawer out—completely—before dumping its contents into the flopped bag.

His room was rather clean, the faint aroma of flowers drifted from just outside his window. The shutters were creaked open, allowing a stray beam of the midday sun to brighten his floor.

Sora stood, staff in hand, and with a practiced flick, the three bags folded in on themselves—vanishing into storage magic.

“Hefty bags,” he muttered, dusting off his robes before giving one last scan of his room. A room that had served him well, and he was eternally grateful for.

He gave a faint nod, before turning and cracking his door open. He stepped into the hallway, the scent of his mothers cooking brought him a brief moment of excitement.

The reminder that this would be his final meal with his mother—for at least a few years—gave Sora a heartache. His mother, the one who had raised him. The person who saw every side of him, and razzed him for his jobless life.

And still, she loved him anyway.

But it was his time. His calling to find purpose where it had not yet resonated. With every moment, his bones cracked and his muscles ached for adventure. And one he would soon get.

Sora made his way into the dining room, where a freshly set of plates, silverware and cups sat. Sora grabbed jamjuice from the icebox, pouring a little into both cups. His staff moved slightly toward the cup, heating it just enough to be thawed.

His mother brought supper—a freshly roasted turkey with buttered legs and drenched in spice.

Sora’s favorite.

“I made this for you, Sora,” she said, pulling a leg out and setting it on his plate. Throughout his years, Sora had picked up on his mothers ticks. Calling him by his name, meant she was either angry, or saddened. He knew it was the latter.

“Thank you mother,” he said, giving a bright grin. He stuffed his face with the turkey leg, before gulping the entire cup of jamjuice. His mother sat in front of him, her plate untouched.

“Do you have to go?” she asked—her eyes never meeting his. Sora lowered the leg, wiping his face with a handkerchief that sat at the tip of his robes.

“I’ve decided,” he said, his green eyes sitting on his distressed mother. “Aetheria has promises of meaning, promises for someone like me.”

His mother raised her eyes to his. She still hadn’t touched a thing on the dinner table.

“Then, if you go, make sure you have everything you need. I wouldn’t force you to stay,” she started. “Your dreams are mine for you. What you wish to accomplish, is what I want for you as well.”

Sora gave another smile, the realization that he would be alone finally settling in. It was a dimmer smile, but all the samely hopeful.

Sora finished his turkey leg with ease. He had an abnormally large stomach for a man just below six feet tall. He wasn’t bigger, either. He weighed maybe one hundred-eighty pounds, total. With his staff in hand, he stood from his seat at the table, and made his way to the pantry. In the deeply endless pockets of his robes, Sora stuffed mini-chocolate cakes and other snacks for his little journey. With that, he was ready.

His mother already stood at the door, a tear falling off her face.

“Be safe, my son,” she whispered, before embracing her third youngest child.

She gave bear hugs—her children always joked about it. She’d always squeeze too tight, but this time, Sora had an appreciation for it. It felt as though all of her emotions had transferred to him—the feelings of future loneliness, and the fearful mutual trust that the other will be safe.

Sora disengaged, giving one last big smile to his mother. He pecked her on the forehead, and waved goodbye, stepping out one last time into the spring of the village he called home.

Not for much longer. Soon, he’d have no home. He’d be a wanderer, slowly making his way to a place he’d only heard of. Unsure of what each day would bring, but continuing on anyway.

Sora walked a path that led astray from the normal scenic route to town—this one heading west. It was far more natural with less marks of man, and filled with the quiet hum of life. Gray-feathered birds flew overhead, and Sora couldn’t help but admire the peace of the wild.

The bendy road rolled over hills and passed countless farmhouses, each trenched deep and marked with a grain silo. Each one he saw seemed bigger than the last—almost like a competition. He passed two children playing with a ball beyond the fence of one of these homes, and a little girl waved at him.

He raised his hand with the staff first, oblivious to the fact he couldn’t wave with a stick in his hand, before quickly raising his other. The hand tilted gently from side to side in a returned wave.

The girl smiled, before resuming her game. Sora paused for a moment. His hand shook just a bit, and his mind wandered just as aimlessly as he did.

Why am I doing this? He asked himself.

He leaned on his walking stick, also used as a wand. I have everything I need. A home, a mother… siblings nearby and a loving community. So why?

He stepped backwards—just a step, before freezing again.

But if I don’t follow this opportunity… this chance. I won’t ever forgive myself. I won’t have a reason to leave—to find what life is really all about.

The foot that had stepped backward, now went forward. His walk down the path continued. He had made his decision, and he would stick with it.

The further he went, the more quiet judgment he received. The wildlife didn’t seem to like their new visitor, often climbing trees and escaping any way they could.

Sora didn’t mind. He was used to unfair judgment. People often believed he was useless and antisocial for keeping to himself—when in reality, he found peace in his quiet. People often didn’t understand him, and he had come to terms with that.

Sora summoned a small carrot, slicing it into countless pieces before spreading them in all different directions. All with a flick of the staff.

He made his way into a looming forest—not big in size, but very compact. Branches, logs and other natural debris filled the road, no longer paved, now hardened dirt with grass growing through the cracks.

The village had long since disappeared behind Sora. The canopy of trees gifted a cool breeze after the persistent beating rays of the sun. Light filtered sparingly through the leaves in soft jade hues. The world felt quieter here. Peaceful, yet still watching.

A river flowed at a cruising pace beside the path. The water caught what little light was provided, and scattered ripples of pale green and silver. Fireflies drifted lazily above, lighting the dim forest with sparks. It reminded him of the stars back home.

Sora found a log along the river shoreline, fallen and hollow. He trudged over to it, whipping out one of his mini-chocolate cakes, and for a moment—he listened.

The forest breathed around him. The river spoke in its endless language, sheltering a friendly-alligator, a species known for its friendliness to humans.

Sora broke his muffin in two, and tossed it to the crocodilian, who swallowed it up without hesitation.

His mind went back to the fields behind—the they swayed, the beauty of the goldcut wheat.

His eyes drifted that way, before swinging back to the water.

“Tomorrow, the road will stretch further. It will be more difficult and unfamiliar,” he whispered, taking a bite of the cake.

“Nonetheless… we move.”

With that, Sora flicked his staff, bringing forth a soft pillow of feathers. He sat the staff at his side, before pulling his hood over his eyes.

The soft wind blew the trees restless, but not Sora. He rested well.

The next morning came in the blink of an eye. Sora awakened to the peck of a bird on his cheek. In fact, they had surrounded him—likely smelling the abundance of cakes still feathered in his pockets.

He sat up, and rubbed his eyes, giving a quick scan to his surroundings. The sun beat down on the upper branches and let stray light into the paths below. Sora’s stomach growled—informing him it was time for breakfast.

He rolled the sleeves up on his cloak, before sticking his finger into the water in the shape of a hook. He stayed as still as he could and yet, no fish came.

After a while, he pulled his hand back and gave a quick sigh. He sat with his legs crossed just on the edge of the river. A nearby friendly-alligator stood staring at him with a mischievous look.

“Can I help you?” He asked in a flat tone. The gator opened its mouth wide, revealing north of twenty fish, all hopping and still alive. Sora chuckled, rubbing the back of his head.

“So, that’s where breakfast went.” He stood up, with the alligator giving what looked like a sly smile. Sora stood unaffected, picking up his staff.

“Won’t be laughing for much longer, my scaled friend.”

He twirled the staff toward the shimmering water, and with a flurry of splashes, about a hundred fish rose from the riverside.

Sora gave a cheeky grin to the alligator, whose eyes widened, before swinging his tail and retreating permanently into the basin.

Sora now returned his focus to the dozens of fish he had just ripped from his home.

“Might’ve overdone it a bit,” he muttered with a quick laugh. The fish all flopped back toward their homes, but one. Sora cast a tiny fireball, killing the fish on impact, before skewering it. He loved the taste of borderline char—it reminded him of his mothers cooking. Not in a bad way, of course.

With a skewer in one, and staff in the other, Sora continued onward through the thick blanket of trees.

The continued trek was somewhat uneventful. For a short while at least.

He had stepped into a wet puddle, softening his sock. He stopped briefly to remove it as it sogged the bottom of his foot. The trail ahead looked endless, and it was only when he gazed further in, that he had noticed the chirps of birds had quieted. In fact, not even the wind spoke anymore.

In its stead, a large rumbling of the ground and violent shaking of trees.

Each second, the sounds grew closer. Sora picked his sock up, and shot forward to a tree, nearly forgetting his staff. He peeked around the trunk, as a giant scaled beast slithered in its wake. A Jade Forest Python, known for growing up to a hundred feet, and often fifteen feet tall. Its fangs alone were the size of a full grown man.

Sora shuddered–more than anything, he hated snakes. Besides wet socks, but that was besides the point.

He waited there for five more minutes, ensuring the beast was gone. He finally turned the corner around the dead trunk he had hid behind. In the python's path, lay a barrage of fallen trees and a trail through the dirt. He could only marvel at the pure size of the thing.

He knew there would be dangers—there always were. But this wasn’t on his bucket list.

No two-fanged noodle would stop him from finding Aetheria. It was his story, and he would carve its legend.

With that, Sora’s march continued, now more alert—but all the more excited for his future’s holdings.

The continued trek was uneventful.
For a short while, at least.

Sora grimaced as his boot sank into a shallow puddle, cold water seeping through the sole and soaking his sock. He stopped beneath the trees, peeled it off, and wrung it out with a quiet sigh.

The trail ahead stretched endlessly into green shadow.

That was when he noticed the silence.

No birds or insects. Not even the wind whispering through the leaves.

Then the ground trembled.

A low rumble rolled through the forest floor, deep and steady, followed by the violent shaking of branches. Trees groaned as something massive pushed through them—unhurried, unstoppable.

Sora snatched up his sock and darted behind the nearest trunk, pressing himself flat against the bark. His heart hammered as he peeked around the edge.

The beast slid past.

Scales the color of dark jade rippled over a body thicker than fallen logs. It moved with terrifying ease, crushing brush and snapping trees beneath its weight. Its head never turned. Its attention was elsewhere.

It didn’t notice him—or maybe it did, but didn’t bother with small prey.

Sora held his breath until the last coil vanished into the foliage. He stayed there for several long minutes before stepping out.

The forest behind the creature looked broken—trees toppled, earth torn open, a wide scar carved through the dirt. He stared at the path it had left behind, throat tight.

He had known there would be dangers. Just… not ones like that.

Sora slipped his sock back on, adjusted his grip on his staff, and continued forward—slower now, and more alert.

The forest did not care about his journey. And that, somehow, made it all feel more real.