William, a stout man in his early fifties, marched through the forest with the resolve of a seasoned traveler. His boots crunched rhythmically on the damp leaves, the sound echoing through the serene silence. The light was fading fast, but he knew the path like the back of his hand. He had made this journey countless times before—traveling between the village and the city, carrying goods and news between the two worlds.
As he approached a large oak tree, his eyes fell upon an unexpected sight. A boy, no older than fourteen, lay sprawled on the forest floor, his chest rising and falling with the steady rhythm of sleep. William's heart skipped a beat. The forest was home to wild animals and, worse, creatures from beyond. Leaving the child to fend for himself was unthinkable. His hand instinctively went to the knife at his belt as he approached with caution.
Drawing closer, William studied the boy. His features were soft and unblemished, his clothes neat and well-kept. The fabric was worn but free from the usual grime of the road. His breathing remained peaceful, untroubled by the encroaching shadows. No signs of injury marked his skin, and with no immediate threat in sight, William relaxed his grip on the knife. Bending down with a quiet groan as his knees creaked, he gently touched the boy's shoulder.
---
### Three Years Later
The Enor village was a quaint, picturesque settlement nestled in a valley surrounded by dense forests. Its cobblestone streets wound lazily between rows of timber-framed houses with thatched roofs. Smoke curled from chimneys, carrying the scent of hearth fires and freshly baked bread.
The central square bustled with life—vendors called out to passersby, children played near the fountain, and elders sat on benches, sharing stories and laughter. At the heart of the village stood an ancient oak tree.
A young man walked through the village streets, drawing the usual glances. His silver-colored eyes and jet-black hair ensured that he never went unnoticed. As he passed, he spotted a chubby young man chatting with a girl near the oak tree. With a smirk, he swiftly smacked the back of his friend's head.
"Ugh, who did that?" Kit whirled around, only to find Asher standing there, grinning.
"Yo, Kit, did you miss me? And how about you, Meli?" Asher's energy was infectious as he greeted his two friends.
"Asher, you're back already?" Meli asked, blinking in surprise. "You said it would take a week to return from the city."
"That was the plan," Asher admitted. "But Grandpa said since my birthday is coming up, I should celebrate in the village instead of wasting time outside."
"Ah, right—your birthday," Kit muttered, still rubbing his head. "That means it's been three years since you came here."
"Yeah. Grandpa Will has already gone home to rest. He's getting older, but you'd never guess it. That man can walk for miles, and somehow, I'm the one getting tired."
"Grandpa Will is amazing, but don't let him push himself too hard, okay?" Meli said in her usual gentle tone.
"You should tell him that—he doesn't listen to me," Asher sighed before glancing at Kit. "So, anything interesting happened while I was gone?"
Kit, still grumpy from the smack, hesitated before answering. "If weird counts as interesting, then yeah. Yesterday morning, a man with a crazy smile showed up in the village. Everyone kept their distance. Later, he went to the tree in the middle of town and started acting bizarre—climbing it, throwing fruit at people."
"It was scary," Meli added hesitantly. "He kept laughing to himself, and by evening, people complained to the chief. He was kicked out, but he just laughed again and sprinted away."
"Meli's being polite," Kit scoffed. "That guy was a full-blown lunatic. He danced around, grinning at anyone who spoke to him."
"Sounds like I missed quite the spectacle." Asher sighed in disappointment.
"Oh, right! You went to meet an awakener about your memory, didn't you? Did it help?" Meli asked eagerly.
The village had always speculated about Asher's origins. His unusual eyes, his noble-like features—some believed he was the son of a great awakener who had been hidden away.
"No luck," Asher admitted. "It's been three years. If I had memories, they're long gone."
"Don't worry, man. You'll get them back someday," Kit said, before adding with a smirk, "Not that you need them. For someone with a blank head, you're surprisingly sharp."
"Yes, I'm sure you'll remember eventually," Meli nodded in encouragement.
"I hope so." Asher gave them a wry smile.
"Well, I have to head home. Mom wants me to help with chores," Meli said, bidding them goodbye.
Kit hesitated, then suddenly followed after her.
"This guy should just confess already," Asher mumbled as he watched Kit hurry after Meli.
Asher decided to continue his stroll for today, taking a step forward he walked through the village's small market.
Not long after he reached the center of the village, at some distance he could see the village chief house.
'Should I give a visit?' Asher thought with a hint of mischief.
"Asher!"
A sudden voice from the back soon took his attention, seeing behind he saw Mr. Thomas at his store selling fruits and vegetables.
With a smile Asher walked in his direction, the store was a small wooden Barack supported by two wooden poles and a cloth covering the roof for shades.
"Hello Mr.Thomas how are you doing?"
Mr. Thomas waved a handful of carrots at him. "Good, good, just busy with these rascals." He gestured to the basket of squirrelly vegetables. "How was your trip, my boy?"
"It was fine, the usual bustle in the city," Asher said, his gaze lingering on the fruit stand.
"And what did you bring us this time?" Mr. Thomas asked, curiosity lighting up his eyes.
"Just some spices," Asher said, holding up a bag. "But I did hear about the stranger. Did anyone find out who he was?"
Mr. Thomas furrowed his brow, his smile fading. "No, not really. He didn't say much, just talked in riddles. The villagers are uneasy. They've never seen anyone act that way."
"What about your brother... is he at home?" Asher looked around the stall but didn't see him.
Mr. Thomas chuckled. "Yes, that guy is still asleep. He worked late at night yesterday, trying to fix the cover."
"So your shop doing well...from the looks of it you can even start a business in the city." Asher looked at the bulk of stocks with excitement.
Mr. Thomas laughed, a hearty sound that filled the small space. "Ah, the city life is not for us, son. We prefer the quiet here. Besides, I wouldn't know what to do with myself without my garden."
Asher's silver eyes squinted at the left side of the shop fruits were squashed and thrown near it.
"Did that crazy guy do this?" He asked with a frown.
Mr. Thomas's eyes widened as he followed Asher's gaze to the squished fruit on the ground. "That bastard really!" He exclaimed. "Thanks, Asher, I didn't notice it. You have good eyes as usual."
"It's okay," Asher shrugged, "I'll help you clean up."
Together, they picked up the fruit and tossed it into a basket. The conversation turned to the stranger again.
After greeting everyone in the small market, Asher finally took his leave.
Asher turned to head home for some rest. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the rooftops and painting the sky in hues of orange and pink.
The village was peaceful, a stark contrast to the bustling city he had just returned from. Yet, beneath the surface, there was a sense of unease—a feeling that something was amiss.
---
### That Night
A firm hand shook his shoulder, jolting him awake. Groggily, Asher opened his eyes to find Grandpa Will standing over him. His face was etched with worry.
"Asher, wake up." William's voice was a harsh whisper, urgent and filled with concern. "Our neighbor, Thomas—he's gone missing."