Chapter One - Others

Cyrus bolted across the grassy clearing, his feet pounding the ground. Sweat beaded along his brow as he scanned his surroundings. A wall of damp mossy cliffs rose to his left, while a crystal clear lake sparkled on his right. Neither a feasible option with a wild boar right behind him.

Its gruff snort urged him onwards as clumps of grass flew from its hooves. Cyrus chanced a look back, and cursed inwardly. The beast was at least as tall as his hips, and its jagged yellow tusks carved through the air. Black tar bubbled at its mouth, and its eyes were wide and bloodshot.

"Blasted creature! Why won't you just go away?" Cyrus shouted, vaulting over a pile of rocks. His feet barely touched the ground before the beast scrambled around the corner, and lunged towards him.

Cyrus dove forward, rolled across the grass, and popped back to his feet. Not a moment passed before he resumed running, his goal a grove of trees less than a hundred meters away. The boar grunted as it skidded across the grass, giving Cyrus a few seconds to build distance.

It didn't do him much good, as the boar rushed after him the moment it regained its footing. Within seconds its hot breath sent a shiver down his back. Gritting his teeth, Cyrus focused on the nearest tree. An old oak, with a thick knotted trunk, and gnarled low-hanging branches.

'Looks like that will have to do,' Cyrus thought. He ignored his burning muscles, and stretched out his hand, reaching for the oak's trunk. 

Then, with a mere meter to go, the sound of fabric tearing reached his ears. One of the boars tusks had caught on his cloak, yanking him back. With a curse, Cyrus spun to the side, moving out of the way just as the boar barreled past, snapping at his arm. 

To his luck, it missed, and slammed into the oak with a loud thump. The blow left it dazed, and it staggered back, shaking its head. Without a moment's rest, Cyrus leapt past the boar, and grabbed the oak's trunk.

'Awaken.'

 The simple thought sent a ripple through the oak, and Cyrus's emerald eyes opened wide, irises burning with a faint glow. Deep within his chest, a blazing heat swirled to life, tearing through his veins, all the way down to his fingers, until it burst out of body. 

Beneath his feet, the ground rumbled, then split as a torrent of roots tore free, and descended onto the boar. It staggered back, biting at the tendrils, and thrashing its tusks back and forth. It knocked a few away, but was soon overwhelmed as more took their place.

Cyrus watched as the roots twisted around the beast's legs, and spread down its torso. They dragged it to the ground, tightening their hold as it kicked and writhed, while the smaller roots burrowed into its snout and mouth. 

The boar grunted and gasped, its beady eyes bulging as it shook its head. Each second passing felt like an eternity until finally, there was a sickening crunch, and the beast fell still. Barely a moment passed before a wave of exhaustion washed over Cyrus, draining the strength from his muscles. 

His heart hammered in his chest as he slumped against the tree, and slid to the ground. Ignoring the sweat dripping from his chin, he let his head fall back, and grasped the amulet he wore around his neck to make sure it was still there.

It was made from a ring of gold, encased in amber, and crafted in the form of a knotted tree, with a web of roots, and wide outstretched branches, which curved around the edges. He flipped it over, and ran his thumb over the words inscribed on the back. The letters resembled roots, all twisted and intertwined, but the strange words read clear to him.

'May the Arbor Sanctum never fall.'

He murmured the text, then let the amulet fall back to his chest. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a patch of grey stone forming along the boar's back. He furrowed his brow as it slowly grew, spreading until the entire carcass was petrified.

'Gods above. It's no wonder the beast chased me all the way here. It must have been driven mad by magic. I suppose that explains the black tar and bloodshot eyes. A pity. It would have made for a decent meal.'

Cyrus's stomach grumbled at the thought of roasted boar, seasoned with mushrooms and garlic. For as far back as he could remember, he had been stuck eating berries and nuts, along with the occasional hare, if he was fortunate.

He ran his fingers through his amber hair with a sigh, then pushed off the tree, and rose back to his feet. The boar had chased him quite the distance away from his camp, and if he hoped to find it before nightfall, he'd have to start moving now. 

However, before he took a step, he heard a faint whisper, soft as the forest rustling in a summer breeze. Though it spoke no words, he felt compelled to follow it. It guided him deeper into the grove, where the trees spread out, and their branches formed a canopy of leaves.

Time seemed to slow as he walked, going further and further in, while the clearing faded behind him. Along the way, he studied the hardened oaks and tall elms, wondering how they could have gotten so high up. Perhaps a bird had carried a seed here, or maybe some other creature. There was no way to know.

Eventually, the grove fell away, dropping off the face of a cliff. Curious, he stepped to the edge, and scanned the land far below. An expanding forest of pines grew at the base, their swaying tips towering high above the ground. A winding river cut through the center, it's clear fresh water stemming from the mountains themselves. 

Overhead, a flock of flametail sparrows flitted through the sky, their bright golden feathers catching the light of the sun. He counted fifteen in total before they dove into the cover of needles, disappearing from his view.

He frowned, and eyed the remainder of the woodland valley until his gaze fell upon a column of smoke, rising in rhythmic puffs in the distance. 

He tensed, his eyes widening in disbelief. Half a year. For half a year, he had traversed this god forsaken land, with no memories of his past, and only a strange amulet to his name. 

Not once during that time had he crossed paths with another person. Yet there they were, waiting at the bottom of the cliff. A slight breeze carried the scent of cooked meat to his nose.

His mouth watered. 'Food. They must have food down there!'

Quick on his feet, the young man leapt over the edge, his frayed cloak billowing around him as he hurtled towards the ground. Below, the pine trees rushed to meet him, their outstretched branches intertwining to form a bed of needles.

Cyrus bent his legs, his heart racing. The familiar warmth of his magic flowed through his veins, ready to be called upon. 

Ten meters remained...

Then five...

One...

The trees bowed as he fell into the branches, bending to slow his descent. The needles cushioned his body, carrying him softly to the ground. In a matter of seconds, he found himself standing on the forest floor, not a single scratch, cut, or bruise to be found. 

After brushing the debris from his tunic, he nimbly slipped through the forest, following the column of smoke. As he drew closer, the sound of iron clanging against iron rang through the forest, like a drum being struck with a rhythmic beat.

'This sound… Is it a blacksmith?'