The early morning sun cast a warm, golden light over the rolling hills of northern Aladria, illuminating the peaceful village nestled among the greenery. Birds chirped merrily as they flitted between the tall trees that dotted the landscape, and a gentle breeze carried the scent of blooming wildflowers. At the edge of the village, a small family worked in their garden, their laughter and conversation blending harmoniously with the sounds of nature.

Seum, a bright-eyed four-year-old, knelt in the soft soil, his tiny hands busy planting seeds under the watchful eyes of his parents. His father, Erol, a skilled farmer and wood craftsman known for his ability to coax life from the earth, tended to the plants with a gentle touch. His mother, Lyria, a level-2 mage with a knack for minor spells, stood nearby, her hands glowing softly as she cast a simple growth spell to encourage the seedlings.

Seum's wooden dragon, a gift from Erol, lay beside him, its carved features worn smooth from countless hours of play. The boy's curiosity was boundless, and he peppered his parents with questions about everything he saw.

“Papa, why do the flowers need sunshine to grow?” Seum asked, his wide eyes reflecting the sunlight.

Erol chuckled, ruffling Seum's hair. “Well, my little dragon, the sun gives them energy, just like how your breakfast gives you energy to play and learn.”

Lyria smiled, her eyes full of love as she watched her son. “And the water and soil help them stay strong and healthy, just like how you need hugs and stories to be happy.”

Seum giggled, his dragon clutched in one hand as he planted another seed. “I like stories! Can we have one tonight?”

“Of course, my love,” Lyria replied, her voice soft and comforting. “But first, let’s finish our gardening.”

As they worked, the family's bond was evident in their gentle banter and shared tasks. Erol and Lyria exchanged loving glances, their happiness radiating through their small corner of the world. Despite their joy, a subtle undercurrent of unfulfilled need lingered in the air—something missing that they were not yet aware of.

Seum, oblivious to the larger forces at play in the world, was content in his small garden. His biggest concerns were whether his dragon could fly if he threw it high enough and how many stories he could coax from his parents before bedtime. Yet, even in his innocence, there were signs of the great destiny that awaited him.

As he toddled over to his mother, Seum tripped on a stone hidden in the grass. He landed with a soft thud, and for a moment, his lower lip quivered. But then, instead of crying, he picked himself up and brushed the dirt from his clothes.

“I’m okay, Mama!” he declared, his small face set in a determined expression. He held up his dragon as if it had protected him from the fall.

Lyria knelt beside him, her heart swelling with pride and a hint of worry. “That’s my brave boy,” she said, hugging him gently. “But remember, it’s okay to ask for help sometimes.”

Seum nodded, though the lesson was only partially absorbed. His caring nature and tendency to put others before himself were already evident, even at this young age. It was a trait that would one day shape his destiny, but for now, it was just a part of who he was.

The shard of glass from years before, a small injury from a childhood accident, had long since healed over. Yet, unknown to Seum and his parents, it still caused him discomfort, a subtle reminder of past pain that he had learned to ignore.

As the morning passed, Seum continued to help in the garden, his small hands moving with a diligence and care that belied his age. He was a child of both great potential and deep need, though he lacked the self-awareness to understand the latter. What Seum needed was guidance and protection, the nurturing of his unique gifts, and the wisdom to balance his caring nature with self-preservation.

For now, the ordinary world of Erelos was filled with simple joys and minor challenges. But on this particular day, beneath the surface of their idyllic life, the seeds of a great prophecy were being sown. Seum's journey had just begun, and the peaceful garden would soon be the backdrop for the first steps of his extraordinary destiny.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, casting long shadows across the garden, the tranquility of the morning was suddenly broken by the sound of approaching footsteps. Seum looked up, his curiosity piqued as a robed figure made their way up the dirt path that led to the family’s small farm.

“Papa, someone’s coming!” he called out, pointing towards the figure.

Erol and Lyria exchanged a glance, a mix of curiosity and caution in their eyes. It wasn’t often that they had visitors, and in this peaceful village, any disturbance was unusual.

The figure, now closer, revealed themselves to be one of the priests from the nearby temple dedicated to Ladrinae. The priest, a middle-aged man with kind eyes and a weathered face, approached with a warm smile.

“Good day, Erol, Lyria,” the priest greeted them with a respectful nod. “And who do we have here?,” he added, crouching down to meet the boy’s gaze.

Seum, ever curious, stepped forward. “Hello! I’m Seum. Do you need help with something?”

The priest chuckled softly. “Not today, young one. Goodness you've grown so much I didn't recognize you. I’ve come to speak with your parents.”

Erol stood up, wiping his hands on his trousers. “What brings you here, Father Aedin?”

Father Aedin’s expression grew more serious as he straightened up. “I have come with a message from the temple. We have sensed a disturbance, a growing darkness in the lands beyond our village. The High Priestess has called for a gathering of the village leaders to discuss how we might prepare and protect ourselves.”

Lyria’s face paled slightly. “Is it something we should be worried about?”

Father Aedin placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “We do not know yet, but it is always wise to be prepared. I wanted to inform you personally, as your family is valued in our community.”

Erol nodded thoughtfully. “Thank you for letting us know. We will attend the gathering.”

As Father Aedin made his way back down the path, Seum tugged at his mother’s sleeve. “Mama, what’s a disturbance?”

Lyria knelt down, brushing a lock of hair from Seum’s face. “It means something might be wrong, my love. But don’t you worry, your Papa and I will make sure everything is alright.”

Seum nodded, but a small furrow appeared between his brows. He didn’t fully understand, but he could sense the unease in his parents.

The rest of the day passed with an undercurrent of tension. Erol and Lyria continued their work in the garden, their conversations quieter and more subdued. Seum, sensing the shift in mood, played with his dragon, his usual chatter replaced by thoughtful silence.

That evening, as the family gathered around the hearth, the warm glow of the fire casting dancing shadows on the walls, Erol and Lyria tried to distract Seum with stories and songs. Yet, the words of Father Aedin lingered in their minds.

After Seum had been tucked into bed, his wooden dragon clutched tightly in his arms, Erol and Lyria sat together by the fire, their hands intertwined.

“I’m worried, Erol,” Lyria confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “What if this darkness comes here?”

Erol squeezed her hand gently. “We will face it together as we always have. Our village is strong, and we have each other.”

Lyria nodded, leaning her head on his shoulder. “But Seum ... he’s so young. I don’t want anything to happen to him.”

Erol’s gaze shifted to the small form of their son, his heart filled with a fierce protective love. “He is our greatest treasure. We will do everything in our power to keep him safe.”

In the quiet of the night, as the village slept under the watchful stars, a sense of foreboding hung in the air. The ordinary world of Erelos was on the brink of change, and within the heart of this peaceful village, a seed of destiny was beginning to take root.

Seum’s journey was just beginning, and though he was unaware of it, the challenges ahead would shape him into the person he was meant to become. His caring nature, his curiosity, and even his flaws would all play a part in the unfolding prophecy. And as the days turned into weeks, the peaceful village of Aladria would become the stage for the first steps of his extraordinary destiny.

The Heartwood family cottage was warm and cozy, the scent of burning cedar logs curling through the air as the fire in the hearth crackled softly. The remnants of the evening meal—a simple but hearty stew of root vegetables and smoked venison—sat on the wooden table, and Seum was still licking his spoon clean. His bright eyes sparkled in the firelight, full of curiosity and questions as always.

“Papa,” Seum said, tilting his head, “can you tell me a story tonight? Something about the Stragan people. The one with the Vah Rehm. You promised.”

Erol Heartwood chuckled, setting down his carving knife and the block of wood he’d been shaping. “Ah, the Vah Rehm,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “You don’t tire of that one, do you?”

Seum shook his head vigorously, his dark hair bouncing. “No! You said it’s a star, but it’s not just a star—it’s something more, right? I want to know why.”

Erol smiled and patted his lap. Seum climbed up eagerly, settling against his father’s chest as Erol gazed into the flames, gathering his thoughts.

“Long, long ago,” Erol began, his voice steady and deep, “the Stragan people lived on a world far, far from here. Their world was beautiful once, full of green valleys, rivers that shone like silver, and skies that sang with birds. But the Stragan’s world began to die. No one knows exactly why—some say it was a great war, others that their sun grew cold and dim. Whatever the reason, the land withered, and their people began to despair.”

Seum’s brow furrowed. “That sounds so sad. What did they do?”

Erol nodded gravely. “It was a dark time. The Stragan prayed to their gods, hoping for guidance, but the skies stayed silent. Many lost hope… until one night, a star appeared in the heavens, brighter than any they had ever seen. They called it the **Vah Rehm** after their holy texts that had sustained the Stragan people for centuries, which means ‘Star of the Way.’”

Seum’s eyes widened. “The Vah Rehm! Did it save them?”

“Yes,” Erol said, his voice taking on a reverent tone. “The Vah Rehm wasn’t just a star, Seum—it was a sign from **Holy Ladrinae, The Bringer of Faith**. He had heard the Stragan’s cries and came to their aid. The star led the Stragan to a great gathering place where Ladrinae himself appeared before them.”

“He appeared? Like… in person?” Seum asked, his voice hushed with awe.

Erol nodded, his gaze distant as if he could see the scene unfolding before him. “He stood among them, radiant and kind. His presence was like the softest light of dawn after a long, dark night. He spoke to them, saying, ‘Do not despair, my children. I have not forsaken you. Follow the light of the Vah Rehm, and I will lead you to a new home.’”

“The Stragan people began their journey,” Erol continued. “They followed the Vah Rehm across vast deserts, over towering mountains, and through dark, unending forests. Their journey was long and difficult, but Ladrinae’s faith sustained them. He sent them signs—wild game to hunt when they were starving, springs of water in the barren wastes, and songs carried on the wind to lift their spirits.”

Seum tilted his head. “But how did the Vah Rehm stay in the sky? Stars don’t move like that, do they?”

“Not normally,” Erol said with a chuckle. “But the Vah Rehm wasn’t just a star. Some say it was a piece of Ladrinae’s own essence, a light he cast into the heavens to guide his people. Others believe it was an angel, one of the Erelasi, sent to watch over them.”

Seum’s mouth opened in wonder. “An Erelasi? Like… with wings?”

“Perhaps,” Erol said. “What we do know is that the Vah Rehm never faltered. It shone bright, even when the storms raged and the skies were black. And after many days, it led the Stragan to a huge, glowing opening that looked like a giant doorway. Looking through the opening on the other side, they saw the lands of Erelos, lush and green, untouched by the blight that had taken their home.”

“The Stragan crossed through the opening, called a portal, and when they reached our world, Ladrinae appeared to them again. Holy Ladrinae had brought them to Kuvek Island and he had prepared for them. He blessed them and told them, ‘Here, you will begin anew. My servants will guide you to your new homeland. Honor the land, live in harmony with it, and let the Vah Rehm remind you that even in the darkest times, faith will light your way.’”

Seum was silent for a moment, his small hands clutching Erol’s tunic. “And they did, didn’t they?"

Errol nodded.  "They lived here, and the Vah Rehm stayed with them? Yes, they did. Holy Ladrinae had several of the Erelasi to help guide us and they helped us move to the lands we now call Aladria, where most of us live now.  To this day, the Vah Rehm can be seen in the northern skies. The Stragan people still look to it for guidance, especially when they’re lost or unsure. It reminds them of Ladrinae’s promise and their journey from despair to hope.”

“But, Papa,” Seum said, his voice thoughtful, “what if the Vah Rehm didn’t appear? What if Ladrinae didn’t save them?”

Erol’s expression softened, and he hugged Seum a little tighter. “That’s the thing about faith, son. Sometimes, you have to hold on even when the skies are silent. The Stragan never stopped believing, even when they felt lost. And because of their faith, they found their way.”

Seum was quiet again, his eyes fixed on the flickering flames. “I think Ladrinae must be very kind.”

“He is very kind,” Erol agreed. “And he teaches us that no matter how dark things may seem, there’s always a light to guide us—whether it’s a star in the sky or the love of those around us.”

Seum nestled closer to his father. “Papa,” he said sleepily, “if I ever get lost, do you think the Vah Rehm will guide me?”

Erol smiled, brushing a hand through Seum’s unruly hair. “I think the Vah Rehm, or something just as special, will always guide you, Seum. But you know what?”

“What?”

“You’ll always have me and your mama. And we’ll always find you.”

Seum yawned, his eyelids growing heavy. “Good. I’d never want to be lost.”

Erol held his son close, whispering a soft prayer to Ladrinae under his breath. As the fire crackled and the stars began to appear outside, he couldn’t help but glance out the window, searching the sky for the bright light of the **Vah Rehm**, the star that had brought hope to a dying people and continued to shine for those who needed it most.

Seum was a bright-eyed and curious child with a mop of brownish curls and an insatiable thirst for exploring the world around him. His mother, Lyria, held his tiny hand as they walked through the bustling streets of Brighthollow. The village was renowned for its warm, welcoming community and quaint shops.

Lyria smiled down at Seum. “We’re going to visit a very special shop today, my love. They have the finest hand-carved toys, and I think you’ll enjoy meeting the owners.”

Seum’s eyes lit up. “Toys? Really? Can we get another dragon?”

Lyria laughed softly. “We’ll see what they have. But remember, we’re also here to pick up supplies.”

As they rounded the corner, the shop came into view. A beautifully painted sign hanging above the entrance read: Hearth & Timber. The building was warm and inviting, with flowering vines climbing up its wooden walls and colorful flags fluttering in the breeze.

The door jingled as Lyria pushed it open, and Seum was immediately greeted by the rich scent of freshly polished wood and lavender. The interior was a delightful mix of shelves lined with carved toys, household goods, and handmade furniture.

“Ah, Lyria! Welcome!” called a cheerful voice from behind the counter. A tall, dark-haired man with a friendly smile stepped out. His name was Tharien Windgrove, and his piercing green eyes sparkled with kindness. “And who’s this little adventurer?”

Seum clung to his mother’s skirt shyly but peeked out with curiosity. “I’m Seum.”

Tharien chuckled and crouched to Seum’s level. “Well, Seum, it’s a pleasure to meet you. My name’s Tharien.  I've heard a rumor that dragons are your favorite, and we've got dragons here—you might just find what you’re looking for.”

Another man entered from a side room carrying a tray of steaming tea. This was Kael Brightridge Windgrove, Tharien’s husband, whose golden hair and soft blue eyes contrasted with his partner’s darker features. He was slightly shorter than Tharien but carried an air of calm and warmth.

“Lyria!” Kael greeted with a grin. “And who’s this dashing young man?”

“This is my son, Seum,” Elara said, pride evident in her voice. “We were hoping to look around.”

Kael set the tray down on a counter and offered Seum a cup of cool apple juice. “Welcome to Hearth & Timber, Seum. We also have a little surprise you might enjoy.”

Seum took the juice cautiously but smiled at the kindness. “What kind of surprise?”

Tharien motioned toward the back of the shop. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

Elara gave Seum an encouraging nod, and the boy followed Tharien to a small play area filled with carved animals, fantastical creatures, and a miniature wooden castle. Sitting cross-legged on a rug were two children—Lyric, an energetic boy of about seven, and Maelle, a quiet girl a little older than Seum.

“Lyric, Maelle, meet Seum,” Tharien said. “Seum, these are our children.”

Lyric immediately jumped up. “Do you like dragons? We have a whole army of them!”

Maelle smiled shyly but held out a wooden griffin. “You can play with this one if you want.”

Seum’s face lit up, and he eagerly joined the other children. While the kids played, Elara and Kael moved to another corner of the shop to discuss the supplies she needed. “I’ll need candles, cloth, and some of your herbal teas,” she said.

Kael nodded. “Of course. Tharien, can you grab the tea blend from the top shelf?”

As Tharien reached for the tea, he chuckled. “Your son is quite the curious one. He fits right in with Lyric and Maelle.”

Lyria smiled fondly. “He’s always asking questions and exploring. I think he’ll grow into someone extraordinary.”

Kael gave her a knowing look. “Children like him often do. He has a bright spirit.”

Meanwhile, in the play area, Lyric was enthusiastically showing Seum how to arrange the wooden dragons in a battle formation. “This one’s the leader.  He’s called Flameclaw.”

Seum held up a smaller dragon. “And this one’s his baby?”

Maelle giggled softly. “Maybe it’s his scout. It can fly ahead and warn him.”

The children’s laughter filled the shop, bringing smiles to the adults.

As the morning turned to afternoon, Tharien and Kael insisted that Elara and Seum stay for lunch. They brought out a hearty meal of fresh bread, roasted vegetables, and cheese. Over the meal, the group talked about life in the village.

“Brighthollow is a wonderful place to raise children,” Tharien said. “Everyone here looks out for one another. Soon after we married we adopted Lyric and Maelle and the joy they have brought us is just amazing! All the years we have lived here we have never once thought about leaving. We were welcomed so warmly and our shop is so successful. It was a perfect place for our family.”

Lyria looked at them both fondly and said, "Well, you two are such good friends to so many of us, and of course you are famous for your carvings and woodwork. Our village has benefitted tremendously from your talents. I still think Kael should have taken the job of City Manager when the Council offered it to him."

Kael laughed softly and covered his husband's hand with his and added, “Thank-you so much for the kind words. But these three keep me plenty busy without having to worry about civil duties." Kael gave a side glance to Seum and pretended to whisper, "And the hills are perfect for picnics. We’ll have to take you up to the overlook next time you visit.”

Seum, his face smeared with crumbs, giggled and looked up at Kael. “Can we come back soon?”

Lyria laughed. “We’ll see, my love. Kael, Tharien it's wonderful to see you as always.”

As they prepared to leave, Lyric handed Seum a small carved dragon. “You can keep this one,” he said. “So you’ll remember us.”

Seum’s eyes widened in delight. “Thank you!”

As they walked back through the village, Seum clutched the dragon tightly. “Mama, can we come back tomorrow?”

Lyria laughed and ruffled his hair. “We’ll see, little one. But I’m glad you made such good friends.”

That day, Seum’s heart was full, and the warmth of Brighthollow stayed with him. It was a day of laughter, kindness, and the simple joys of friendship—a memory he would carry into the many challenges that lay ahead.

As the days rushed on the cool breeze of Daggueneth swept through Brighthollow’s *central square, rustling the leaves of the Heartwood Oak.  A successful, roving peddler that frequented the village had arrived early in the day with wares that were not usually available in the village. The villagers were bustling about their evening routines when a peddler's frantic cries shattered the peace.

“Help! Please, someone help!” The man stumbled into the square, his face pale and streaked with sweat. His clothes were dirtied from running, and his voice was hoarse.

Guard Captain Jareth Thornfield stepped forward immediately, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his sword. “What’s the matter?” His voice was calm but commanding, drawing the attention of the nearby villagers.

“It’s my boy! My Darvin!” the peddler choked out, bending over to catch his breath. “He wandered off… into the forest. I can’t find him! He was chasing a bird or something—I told him to stay close, but he’s gone!”

Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd. The Emeraldwood Forest, though beautiful, was sometimes perilous due to wild animals.  Stories of shadowbeasts and wild animals weren’t mere legends.

“How long ago?” Jareth asked, his sharp eyes locking onto the man.

“Not more than an hour. I’ve been searching, shouting his name.  I… I thought I saw tracks heading deeper into the woods.”

Jareth straightened, his tone decisive. “All right. We’ll find him. Everyone, gather at the Hollow Hearth. We need to organize a search.” Jareth knew full well after the tragic death of his young wife how dangerous the Emeraldwood could be to children.

The Hollow Hearth was buzzing with activity within minutes. Villagers streamed in, each bringing tools, lanterns, and supplies for the search. Jareth stood at the center of the room, issuing orders with practiced efficiency. “Marlin and Eryon, take the west edge of the forest.  Stay together and look for disturbed foliage or tracks.  Saria, you and Thalden cover the north trail.  Don’t go beyond the old stone marker without signaling first.  The rest of you—”

A gentle tug on his pants interrupted Jareth mid-sentence. He glanced down, finding Seum with wide, curious eyes and a mop of unruly hair. The child was holding onto his mother, Lyria Heartwood’s, skirt with one hand while tugging insistently on Jareth’s trousers with the other.

“Not now, Seum,” Jareth said, his voice softening for a moment before turning back to the group. “As I was saying—”

“Jareth,” Lyria whispered, kneeling to her son’s level, “what is it, sweetheart?”

Seum ignored her, focusing intently on Jareth. “He’s not where you’re looking,” the boy said, his voice clear and confident despite his age.

The room went silent. A few villagers exchanged puzzled glances, and Jareth crouched down, meeting Seum’s gaze with a mixture of curiosity and seriousness.

“What do you mean, Seum?” Jareth asked, his tone gentle but probing.

“The boy,” Seum said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “He’s not lost. He’s hiding. He’s scared, but he’s by the big tree with the broken branch.”

Jareth’s brow furrowed. “Seum, are you sure? How do you know this?”

“I just know,” Seum replied, his small hands clasping the hem of Jareth’s cloak. “I saw it.”

A ripple of unease moved through the room. Eryon Thornward, the village warden, cleared his throat. “The big tree with the broken branch? That could be near the southern glade. It fits the description.”

“But how does he know that?” asked Marlin Veltris, scratching his head. “He wasn’t even there. The boy's probably guessing.”

Lyria placed a protective hand on her son’s shoulder. “Seum’s always been… perceptive,” she said cautiously. “If he says he knows, maybe we should listen.”

“Perceptive or not,” Jareth said, standing up, “the southern glade is as good a place to start as any. If we waste time questioning every lead, the boy’s chances shrink. We move now.”

Jareth’s voice cut through any lingering doubt. The villagers nodded in agreement, grabbing their supplies and forming into groups.

Guided by Seum’s words, Jareth led a small group of villagers toward the southern glade, lanterns swinging in their hands. The Emeraldwood was eerily quiet, the usual chorus of nocturnal creatures muted, as if the forest itself were holding its breath.

“Stay close,” Jareth warned, his eyes scanning the shadows. “And listen for anything unusual.”

Seum had insisted on coming, tugging insistently on his mother’s hand until Lyria reluctantly agreed to bring him. He walked between his mother and Jareth, his small legs keeping pace with surprising ease.

“Is it far?” Seum asked after a while.

“Not much farther,” Jareth replied, though his tone carried a hint of skepticism. He still wasn’t entirely convinced they’d find anything.

As they approached the glade, a faint sound reached their ears: a child’s muffled sobs.

“Do you hear that?” Jareth hissed, raising a hand to halt the group. They fell silent, straining to listen. The sobbing grew louder, interspersed with hiccups.

“Darvin!” the peddler whispered hoarsely, rushing forward. Jareth grabbed his arm.

“Wait. We don’t know what else might be out here.”

The group advanced cautiously, following the sound until they reached the big tree with the broken branch, just as Seum had described. Huddled at the base of the tree was a boy of about seven, clutching his knees and shaking with fear.

“It’s him,” the peddler cried, rushing forward to embrace his son. “Darvin! Oh, thank the gods, you’re safe!”

Darvin clung to his father, tears streaming down his face. “I-I got lost. I didn’t mean to! I saw a big bird, and I just… I didn’t mean to…”

“You’re all right now,” Jareth said, kneeling beside the boy. “You’re safe.”

The journey back to the village was filled with relief and quiet reflection. The peddler carried Darvin in his arms, whispering reassurances. Seum walked beside Jareth, holding his mother’s hand but glancing up at the Guard Captain now and then.

“How did you know?” Jareth finally asked the boy, his voice low so the others wouldn’t overhear.

“I just… saw him,” Seum said, looking up with an earnest expression. “Not like with my eyes, but in here.” He tapped his chest.

Jareth frowned slightly but said nothing. He’d seen enough strange things in his time as Guard Captain not to dismiss the boy’s words outright. Still, it was unsettling how accurate Seum’s vision had been.

The villagers gathered in the square to welcome the group back, cheering when they saw Darvin safe and sound. The peddler, overcome with gratitude, fell to his knees before Jareth.

“Thank you,” he said, tears in his eyes. “Thank you for finding my boy.”

Jareth gently pulled him to his feet. “It wasn’t just me,” he said, glancing down at Seum. “We had a little help.”

The villagers murmured in surprise as Seum shifted nervously under their gazes. Lyria knelt beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

“Seum just has a gift,” she said softly. “One we should all be grateful for.”

That night, as the villagers returned to their homes, Jareth sat beneath the Heartwood Oak, turning the events over in his mind. Seum’s words echoed in his ears: “Not with my eyes, but in here.”

Lyria approached him, holding Seum by the hand. “I wanted to thank you, Jareth,” she said. “For listening to him. Not everyone would have.”

Jareth nodded. “Your boy’s special  There's no denying that,” he said, looking down at Seum. “Don’t let anyone make him feel otherwise.”

Seum smiled shyly, and Jareth felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps there was more to the boy than met the eye—something even the Emeraldwood itself seemed to recognize.

Whatever it was, Jareth knew one thing for certain: Brighthollow was lucky to have him.

The next day dawned with a sense of anticipation hanging over the village. The sun rose, casting a golden hue over the rolling hills and the small lakes that dotted the landscape. Villagers went about their routines, but there was a palpable buzz of conversation as word of the gathering spread.

Erol and Lyria prepared to attend the meeting at the temple, their expressions resolute yet concerned. Seum, sensing the importance of the day, clung to his mother’s hand, his wooden dragon tucked under his arm.

“Can I come with you?” Seum asked, his eyes wide with curiosity.

Lyria knelt down and kissed his forehead. “Not today, my little dragon. We need to talk to the other grown-ups. But you can stay with Mrs. Brenna and play with her kittens. How does that sound?”

Seum’s face brightened at the mention of the kittens. “Okay, Mama! I’ll take good care of them.”

With a final hug, Erol and Lyria left Seum with their kindly neighbor, Mrs. Brenna, and made their way to the temple. The village’s central meeting place, dedicated to the God Ladrinae, was a simple yet elegant structure, its stone walls adorned with intricate carvings and symbols of protection.

As they entered, they saw many familiar faces. The village elders, farmers, craftsmen, and a few mages from neighboring villages had all gathered, their expressions ranging from worried to determined. Father Arlen stood at the front, his presence calm and commanding.

“Thank you all for coming,” Father Arlen began, his voice carrying through the hushed crowd. “We have received word from the High Priestess of the mother temple that a darkness is stirring in the lands beyond our borders. It is still distant, but we must be prepared.”

Murmurs of concern rippled through the crowd. Erol exchanged a worried glance with Lyria, who squeezed his hand for reassurance.

“We must fortify our defenses and ensure our people are ready,” continued Father Arlen. “The temple will serve as a sanctuary, and we will coordinate with neighboring villages to share resources and support. We need volunteers to patrol our borders and others to help strengthen our wards and protections.”

A burly blacksmith named Roran spoke up, his voice gruff but steady. “I’ll help with the defenses. My forge is at your disposal.”

Others quickly followed, offering their skills and resources. Lyria stepped forward, her voice clear and determined. “I can assist with strengthening the wards. My magic may be a bit limited, but every bit helps.”

Father Arlen nodded gratefully. “Thank you, Lyria. Every contribution is valuable.”

As plans were made and tasks assigned, Erol felt a sense of solidarity and community. Yet, beneath it all, there was a nagging worry for Seum. How could they protect him from the unseen threat?

The meeting concluded with a shared prayer to Ladrinae for protection and guidance. As the villagers dispersed to begin their preparations, Erol and Lyria made their way back to Mrs. Brenna’s home, their minds heavy with the responsibilities ahead.

When they arrived, they found Seum in the garden, laughing as he played with the kittens. The sight brought a momentary relief to their hearts, a reminder of the innocence they were fighting to protect.

“Mama, Papa! Look at this one!” Seum called out, holding up a tiny, wriggling kitten. “He’s so soft!”

Erol scooped Seum up into his arms, planting a kiss on his cheek. “I see, my little dragon. You’ve made a new friend.”

Lyria smiled, brushing a strand of hair from Seum’s face. “Thank you, Mrs. Brenna, for watching him.”

Mrs. Brenna waved a hand dismissively. “It was my pleasure. He’s a delightful boy.”

As they walked home, Seum chattered about his adventures with the kittens, oblivious to the serious discussions that had taken place. Erol and Lyria listened, their hearts aching with love and worry.

That evening, after Seum had been put to bed, Erol and Lyria sat by the fire once more, their faces illuminated by the flickering flames.

“We need to be ready for whatever comes,” Erol said quietly. “For Seum’s sake.”

Lyria nodded, her gaze distant. “He’s so young, so innocent. He doesn’t deserve to be touched by this darkness.”

Erol wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “We’ll protect him, Lyria. No matter what.”

In the quiet of the night, as the village settled into an uneasy sleep, the seeds of destiny continued to take root.  The peaceful village of Brighthollow, with its rolling hills and tranquil lakes, was on the brink of transformation. And in the midst of it all, a young boy named Seum was beginning a journey that would change the fate of Erelos forever.