To Orario with Noir
The rooster's crow barely pierced the veil of sleep before Zephyr found himself wide awake. Today was the day. Today, his journey began. He moved with practiced efficiency, packing a bag with dried rations, a sturdy canteen, and a few simple tools. For attire, he donned a long, white cloak that flowed around him like a dancer's gown. Made of a light, almost ethereal fabric, it masked the simple white robe and brown belt beneath. A touch impractical for an adventurer, perhaps, but it held a certain nobility, a hint of the unknown hero he aspired to be. [Picture for reference.]
With a single, lingering glance at the house bathed in the soft light of dawn, Zephyr slipped out into the quiet village. He wasn't sure if he would ever return, but the image of his home, his haven, would forever be etched in his memory.
As he reached the village gate, a soft voice shattered the pre-dawn stillness. "Leaving without telling us?" Lilia, his caretaker, stood there, a warm smile gracing her lips. The other villagers, alerted by the creaking gate, had also gathered, their faces a mixture of concern and well wishes.
Zephyr's heart lurched. So they knew. A sheepish grin tugged at his lips. "Looks like you couldn't keep a secret, Old Man," he teased, his voice betraying a flicker of relief.
A gruff chuckle rumbled from behind him. Zen stood there, a hint of amusement twinkling in his eyes. Bell, ever the loyal little brother, stood beside him, his face a mask of conflicting emotions.
"Aniki… you're leaving right? You're leaving to become a Hero?" Bell's voice, small and hesitant, tugged at Zephyr's heartstrings.
Kneeling before Bell, Zephyr ruffled the boy's hair with a gentleness that belied his growing strength. "That's right, little bro," he said softly. "Your big brother is off to Orario to become a Hero, just like in the stories."
Bell's eyes, like pools of untarnished ruby, welled up. "Then I'll let you go," he declared, his voice thick with emotion. "But I'll catch up to you, Aniki, just you wait and see!" A spark of determination, a mirror of Zephyr's own yearning, ignited in Bell's gaze.
A lump formed in Zephyr's throat. He wanted to stay, to protect his innocent brother, his loving caretaker, the kind villagers who had taken him in. But the call of his past, the whisper of his true purpose, was a force he couldn't ignore.
With a shaky smile, Zephyr stood up and pushed open the village gate. He turned back to face them, these people who had become his family.
"Farewell, everyone!" His voice boomed, a touch wobbly at the edges, but filled with unwavering resolve.
The villagers responded with a warm cheer. They waved, their faces etched with both sadness and pride. Lilia's eyes glistened with unshed tears, while Zen offered a curt nod, a silent understanding passing between them.
'Yeah, this is what I should strive to protect,' Zephyr thought, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword hidden beneath the cloak. He wasn't just leaving for his own sake; he was leaving to become strong enough to safeguard this peaceful life, this haven he now called home.
Taking a deep breath, Zephyr turned away. His steps, though heavy with emotion, were steady and purposeful. He may not know what awaited him in Orario, but he wouldn't go into it blindly. He had the villagers' love as his compass, Bell's unwavering faith as his motivation, and Zen's cryptic wisdom as his guide. It all started here, in this quiet village, on this crisp morning. The path stretched before him, a winding road shrouded in uncertainty, but Zephyr Bladehart, the boy with a mysterious past and a heart full of courage, was ready to face it head-on.
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The swirling snow formed a blinding white curtain around Zephyr, each gust of wind a icy claw tearing at his exposed skin. But Zephyr pressed on, his cloak billowing behind him like a spectral sail. Two months had passed since his departure from the village, two months of arduous travel that had carved a new map onto his soul.
He exhaled a plume of white that vanished into the blizzard. "It's already winter, huh..." Zephyr muttered, his voice a low rumble swallowed by the wind. A pang of concern flickered through him. Bell, with his boundless energy and summery disposition, would undoubtedly loathe this weather. A chuckle escaped his lips, a sound that echoed eerily in the vast, empty landscape. These long, lonely nights, spent battling the elements, were starting to take their toll on his sanity. He craved human interaction, a warm fire, a conversation that didn't involve battling frostbite.
He reached into the pouch at his waist, his fingers brushing against the smooth surface of a polished stone. It was the magic stone he had retrieved from the wyvern's cave, a constant reminder of his past and the power that pulsed within him. It remained inert, a mystery yet to be unlocked. Perhaps Orario, with its sprawling labyrinth and whispers of magic, held the key.
Renewed determination sparked in his eyes. He couldn't afford to wallow. The journey was far from over, and Orario, the city of dreams and monsters, beckoned. With a deep breath, Zephyr forged ahead, his steps echoing against the snow-covered ground. Though the path was treacherous, the loneliness biting. He was Zephyr Bladehart, and God built him different.
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A month bled into another, the unrelenting grip of winter tightening around Zephyr. Yet, as he emerged from the icy depths of a hidden lake nestled amidst a snow-laden forest, the cold seemed to hold no power over him.
His body, sculpted by months of harsh travel and relentless training, glistened with droplets that shimmered like scattered diamonds in the pale sunlight that speared through the dense canopy overhead.
He was a living paradox – a youthful face, almost cherubic in its innocence, framed by wind-tossed blue hair, perched atop a physique that rivaled a seasoned bear. Unlike the hibernating creatures of the forest, however, Zephyr thrived in the harsh embrace of winter. The biting wind invigorated him, the icy water a baptism that steeled his resolve.
He hauled himself out, the muscles in his arms and chest rippling with each powerful movement. Though honed and hardened, they bore no malice, no hint of the brutality he had undoubtedly witnessed on his travels.
Here, in the quiet solitude of the frozen wilderness, Zephyr found a strange sort of peace. The journey to Orario had tested him in ways he hadn't imagined, pushing his physical and mental limits. But with each challenge overcome, he felt a new strength bloom within him, a burgeoning power that mirrored the harsh beauty of the winter landscape.
As he toweled himself dry with a worn scrap of cloth, a flicker of concern crossed his features. News from the outside world was scarce, a luxury he couldn't afford on his solitary journey. He yearned for even a whisper of information, a reassurance that the village was all fine and dandy.
Taking a deep breath, Zephyr banished the worry. He had a purpose, a goal that transcended his anxieties. Orario awaited, a city teeming with secrets, a place where he might finally unlock the mysteries of his past. With renewed focus, he donned his cloak, the familiar fabric a comforting embrace against the icy air. He was Zephyr Bladehart, the boy with a clouded memory and an unwavering spirit, and the winter's bite was but a mere preface to the challenges that lay ahead. The cold never bothered him anyway...
The relentless march of winter finally started to show signs of relenting. The blizzard's fury had subsided, replaced by a crisp stillness that painted the snow-covered landscape in a stark beauty. Zephyr, ever vigilant, continued his trek, his breath forming a frosty cloud with each exhale. Days bled into one another, punctuated only by the hunt for food, the quiet comfort of sleep, and the constant ache of loneliness.
Then, a flicker of movement in the distance caught his eye. Alert, he narrowed his gaze, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his sword. As he drew closer, his initial apprehension melted into concern. A magnificent creature lay sprawled on the snow – a young stallion, its sleek black coat marred by a bloody gash on its flank. Panic flickered in the animal's intelligent eyes as it spotted Zephyr, its powerful muscles trembling.
Zephyr approached cautiously, his movements slow and deliberate. He understood the horse's fear, a natural reaction to a sudden human presence. Ignoring the gnawing hunger in his own belly, he focused on the wound. It wasn't life-threatening, but in this unforgiving weather, even a minor injury could be a death sentence.
With a practiced hand, Zephyr cleaned the wound, his touch gentle but firm. The horse, sensing no malice, gradually calmed, its wild spirit replaced by a wary acceptance. As Zephyr finished his work, the stallion rose to its feet, its height nearly mirroring his own. It was a magnificent creature, its black mane a rippling wave, its body a testament to power and grace.
Zephyr wasn't familiar with horse breeds, but one thing was undeniable – this was a majestic animal, a perfect companion for the lonely road ahead. A spark of gratitude flickered within him. Perhaps fate, in its own way, was offering him a helping hand.
He reached out, his palm extended towards the stallion. The horse eyed him for a long moment, then nudged his hand with its velvety nose. A silent bond formed, forged in the crucible of winter's harshness.
Zephyr had found a companion, a mount worthy of his growing strength. He didn't know if it was a normal horse or some other breed, but one thing was clear – this magnificent creature would be his loyal steed as he journeyed onward to find his himself. The path stretched before him, a little less lonely now, and a whole lot more exciting. With a smile gracing his lips for the first time in weeks, Zephyr mounted his new companion. The journey continued, but now, he wasn't alone.
Zephyr patted the stallions back, "I think I'll name you Noir." Zephyr stated with a slight smile. The black maned stallion, now named Noir huffed in satisfaction because it had received a good name.
———[Chapter End]———
A/N: Fun fact: Noir is "black" in french. Also Noir is a Shire Horse breed. [This is what he looks like.]