The group flew for hours, their conversations light and filled with laughter. The initial thrill of flight had softened into a calm camaraderie, and even Seraph, who had started the journey gripping her dragon’s neck in terror, now gently ran her fingers along the smooth, amethyst scales of her steed. She peeked down at the sprawling green canopy below and, to her surprise, felt no fear—just an odd sense of freedom.
The sun sank lower on the horizon, draping the world in warm hues of amber and molten gold. Darius soared ahead, slicing effortlessly through the drifting clouds, each wingbeat leaving a trail of swirling mist in his wake. His figure disappeared momentarily into the fluff, only to emerge seconds later, carving gaps through the celestial sea as he scouted the terrain below.
Behind him, Cheese clung to Lorian’s waist, its translucent, jiggly form swaying with the rhythm of the dragon’s movements. Its tiny, glimmering black eyes stared up at Lorian with a pleading intensity, the corners of its body quivering. It patted its glowing belly with stubby, gelatinous hands, miming hunger with an exaggerated motion that left no room for misinterpretation.
“I think Cheese is hungry,” Lorian called out, his voice carrying over the rush of wind. He chuckled as he gently scratched Cheese’s squishy cheek with a finger, earning a delighted wiggle from the little creature.
Hearing Lorian’s words, Darius tilted his wings with a sudden, fluid motion, slowing his descent as his scaled body gleamed in the sunlight. He hovered in place, his large, leathery wings beating rhythmically as he scanned the terrain below. With a steady voice, he addressed the others, his gaze focused. "We’re flying over dense forest now. I’ll find a clearing where we can land safely." His wings cut through the air with power and grace, as he soared ahead, eyes scanning the canopy below for the perfect landing spot.
Before Darius could dive, Magnus raised a hand, his posture calm and composed. “Wait,” he murmured, his eyes closing in concentration. A moment of stillness passed before he spoke again, his voice carrying a quiet certainty. “A little to the left. I can sense fewer trees there—it should be wide enough.”
Darius flashed a wide grin, giving a quick thumbs-up in response. “Roger that, Druid King.” With a slight shift of his powerful wings, he adjusted his flight path, guiding the group toward the clearing Magnus had sensed.
As they began their descent, Caelus felt an unsettling mix of excitement and wariness. The wind that had once roared around them softened, and he felt the rush of air against his face slow, replaced by the steady hum of wings and the distant rustling of leaves. He had flown before, but never like this. The sensation of diving through the forest canopy was both familiar and foreign, the thrill of soaring through the sky conflicting with the weight of unfinished business that weighed heavy on his chest. His stomach fluttered, but he tightened his grip on the reins, steadying himself as they neared the clearing. The once powerful rush of wind gave way to the gentle rustle of leaves, a soft symphony as they passed through the thick canopy, the ground below gradually revealing a wide, open space bathed in dappled sunlight.
The dragons touched down softly, their massive wings folding with a quiet rustle as they settled onto the forest floor. Azurath landed with a graceful, yet powerful thud, sending a gust of wind through the trees. The dragon then shook himself vigorously, his scaled body rippling like a massive beast ridding itself of water. The motion sent a cloud of dust and leaves into the air, and for a moment, Caelus could only watch in awe at the sheer force of the dragon's presence.
As the dust settled, Caelus dismounted, his boots sinking slightly into the soft earth. His eyes immediately met Azurath’s, and he froze for a moment, struck by the intensity of the dragon’s golden gaze. The creature’s eyes were fixed on him, unblinking, with an unspoken expectation that made the air between them feel thick.
“Uh… what?” Caelus asked, his voice a mix of confusion and uncertainty, unsure of the silent demand.
Magnus’s laughter broke the tension, light and unexpected. From where he sat on a nearby fallen log, stretching his arms above his head to ease the stiffness, he looked over at Caelus with a rare glint of amusement in his eyes. “He wants you to pet him,” Magnus said, his tone carrying a note of humour that was rare for him. "Seems like he’s fond of you already."
Azurath whipped his head toward Magnus, his golden eyes narrowing with an unmistakable flicker of indignation. A low growl rumbled deep in his chest as he huffed loudly, the sound echoing through the clearing. In one swift, dramatic motion, the dragon turned away, clearly affronted, and closed his eyes with exaggerated stubbornness, his massive form stiffening as if to say, You’re not worth my time. The entire scene carried a sense of affronted dignity, as though the dragon had been deeply insulted by the teasing. Caelus couldn’t help but smile at the display, watching as Azurath sulked like a child who had just been denied a treat.
Caelus blinked, still unsure how to respond to the dragon’s unwavering stare. The thought of petting a creature as immense and powerful as Azurath seemed absurd, yet there was something undeniably endearing about the dragon’s patient insistence. With a deep breath, Caelus stepped forward, hesitantly reaching out to stroke the side of Azurath’s snout, the scales beneath his fingers cool and smooth. The dragon’s eyes softened as he leaned into the touch, a deep rumble vibrating through his chest that seemed almost content.
Caelus chuckled awkwardly, casting a glance at Magnus. “Well, I didn’t expect this.”
Nearby, Seraph approached with quiet grace, her movements fluid and deliberate. She handed Magnus a small packet of rations, her fingers brushing his briefly as she did. She smoothed the folds of her long robe, the fabric shimmering faintly in the dappled light, and then sat beside him on the fallen log. Her silver-white hair caught the fading rays of the sun, casting a soft, ethereal glow that seemed to radiate with its own quiet energy. The strands tumbled over her shoulder like liquid moonlight, framing her face in a delicate halo.
Leaning forward slightly, Seraph's silver— almost translucent-looking eyes softened with concern as she studied Magnus. Her gaze lingered on him, still attuned to the subtle shifts in his mood, the quiet heaviness that had followed him ever since their journey began. “How’s the forest?” she asked, her voice gentle but filled with an underlying tenderness. She tilted her head slightly, her expression thoughtful, as though she could sense the weight of his thoughts even in the stillness of the woods.
Magnus accepted the rations with a quiet, grateful nod, his face softening as he felt the familiar weight of the packet in his hands. “It’s good here,” he said, his voice almost reverent, as though the forest itself were a living being deserving of respect. “Healthy. Peaceful. A happy forest.” He closed his eyes, letting the quiet serenity of the place wash over him. He could feel the subtle hum of its magic, a pulse of energy that thrummed gently through the air and earth, untainted by the usual shadows of curse or corruption. In this moment, there was only life—rich, vibrant, and untouched by darkness.
As he savoured the tranquillity, a rustling sound from the nearby log broke his concentration. A small creature, no larger than a hamster, poked its head out of a hollow in the bark. Its body was soft and round like a rodent’s, but its ears were large—unreasonably so—twitching in all directions like miniature radar dishes, constantly scanning the air. With a curious, almost comical hop, it landed on the log, its tiny paws tapping gently against the wood as it sniffed at the air, exploring its new surroundings with eager interest. Its round eyes blinked up at Magnus, giving the impression of a creature who had all the time in the world to be curious.
“Eek!” Seraph yelped, her body jerking back instinctively as the small creature made its sudden appearance. The sound escaped her before she could stop it, a brief, startled cry that betrayed her usual calm.
The creature, equally startled, froze for a heartbeat before darting back into the hollow with a swift, frightened skitter. The momentary rustle of the leaves and bark was the only trace of its hasty retreat.
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Magnus, his expression softening once more, tilted his head toward the log. His gentle demeanour returned, and he crouched down, his movements slow and deliberate as he lowered himself to it, eyes warm with understanding. He spoke in a hushed, soothing tone, as if trying to coax the frightened creature out of hiding. “It’s alright, little one,” he whispered, his voice rich with patience. “She didn’t mean to scare you. Can I see you again?” He extended one hand toward the hole, his fingers barely brushing the rough bark, waiting for a sign that the creature might trust him enough to emerge once more.
The creature hesitated for a moment, its beady eyes locking onto Magnus’s calm, inviting gaze. With a cautious twitch of its tiny nose, it crept forward, its body barely visible against the rough bark. After a long pause, it took a tentative hop, its small paws landing softly on the log. It perched there, its large ears twitching as it took in the surrounding world, still unsure but curious.
“A pipmunk!” Lorian exclaimed, his voice rising with sudden excitement. He pointed eagerly, his eyes wide with childlike wonder at the little creature.
The loud outburst startled the pipmunk, its delicate body stiffening in shock. With a frantic scramble, it darted for safety, leaping directly into the folds of Magnus’s robes, seeking refuge in the warmth of the fabric. Magnus chuckled softly, his hand moving to gently cradle the creature, his robes now rustling as the pipmunk burrowed deeper, hidden from sight but still twitching in his grasp.
“Oops,” Lorian muttered sheepishly, his face flushing with embarrassment as he watched the pipmunk scramble for cover.
Meanwhile, Cheese, its gelatinous body now a shade of deep red, wobbled up to Lorian with an offended squelch. It poked his cheek angrily, leaving a sticky mark, while its other hand clutched a biscuit that it was munching on, oblivious to the moment’s tension. The small creature continued to nibble away at the treat, its irritation oddly comical against its earlier display of frustration.
Lorian, still grinning nervously, leaned in close and whispered conspiratorially, his voice lowering to a hush. "Legend says that a pipmunk's trail can lead to hidden groves or treasures, if one can keep up with it, though few ever do." He glanced at the creature nestled in Magnus's robes, a spark of intrigue in his eyes as he marveled at the tiny creature’s potential, his voice softening further. "It's said that only those with quick feet and sharper wits can follow it through the forest's secrets."
Magnus gently coaxed the pipmunk from the folds of his robes, cupping the tiny creature delicately in his hands as though it were the most fragile thing in the world. The pipmunk twitched nervously at first, but the calm warmth of Magnus’s touch seemed to reassure it.
“Thank you, little one,” Magnus murmured softly, his voice rich with gratitude. “Can you tell me if there’s water nearby?” His gaze softened as he leaned in slightly, his head tilting to listen closely, waiting for the creature’s answer. The pipmunk responded with a series of soft, melodic chirps, its oversized ears twitching as it pointed toward the distance, guiding him with a small, decisive motion. Magnus smiled, nodding in acknowledgment. “You’ve been a great help,” he said, his tone warm with appreciation.
Caelus, unable to resist the allure of the tiny creature, crouched beside Magnus, his eyes wide with awe. “It’s so small,” he whispered, his voice filled with wonder. He extended a finger, watching in fascination as the pipmunk sniffed it cautiously, its tiny nose twitching. Then, with a tentative movement, it leaned in, nudging his finger with a soft, affectionate nuzzle, as if it had decided that Caelus, too, was a friend.
Magnus rose to his feet, the pipmunk now perched comfortably on his shoulder, its large ears twitching as it surveyed the surroundings. “I’m going to that water source,” he said with a light tone, his eyes scanning the forest ahead. “Anyone want to join me?”
“Could definitely use a drink.” He ran a hand across his face, smearing away a streak of dust, his voice carrying a playful edge that masked his weariness. The thought of fresh water seemed more than welcome after the long journey, and he was eager for a brief respite from the heat and grime.
The two of them set off into the forest, the pipmunk chittering occasionally from Magnus’s shoulder, its oversized ears twitching as it pointed the way with surprising accuracy. The air grew cooler as they ventured deeper beneath the dense canopy, the warmth of the sun dimming to a soft, dappled glow. Light filtered through the leaves in scattered beams, casting patches of gold across the mossy ground, giving the forest an ethereal quality. Strange plants with glowing edges and iridescent petals lined their path, their delicate blooms shimmering like scattered jewels in the dim light. The whole forest seemed alive, vibrant in a way Caelus had never experienced before—each step seemed to bring a new pulse of energy, a quiet, mystical hum in the air that filled him with a sense of wonder. It was as though the very trees were watching, waiting, and the forest itself was breathing alongside them.
They soon arrived at a serene pond, its surface as smooth and glassy as polished glass, perfectly mirroring the tall trees that swayed gently above. A small stream fed into the pond, the soft trickle of water blending seamlessly with the rustle of the leaves, creating a peaceful symphony of nature’s sounds. Around the pond, large, moss-covered rocks formed a natural border, their damp surfaces glistening in the fading light, as if kissed by the last golden rays of the sun. The air was cool and crisp, the atmosphere serene, as though the world itself had slowed down to pause in this quiet, hidden sanctuary.
"Wow..." Caelus murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as his breath caught in awe at the tranquil beauty before him. The sight of the pond, so still and perfect, seemed almost too serene to be real, as though it belonged in a dream.
The pipmunk, seemingly as enchanted by the peaceful setting as they were, leapt from Magnus's shoulder with a flick of its tail. It scurried to the water's edge, pausing only for a moment before it bent down to drink deeply, its tiny paws cupped around the water. After quenching its thirst, the little creature began to use its delicate hands to groom its oversized ears, carefully smoothing the fur with meticulous attention. Each motion was precise, as though the pipmunk had all the time in the world to indulge in the simple pleasure of self-care.
Magnus knelt by the water’s edge, his fingers skimming the cool surface before scooping up a handful. “Thank you, little one,” he murmured softly, his voice carrying a note of quiet gratitude. He brought his hands to his lips, drinking deeply from the crystal-clear water, feeling its refreshing chill spread through him.
Caelus followed suit, cupping his hands to drink, then leaned back against a large rock with a contented sigh. He tilted his head to the sky, letting the quiet serenity of the forest wash over him. “It’s so beautiful here,” he said, his voice soft as he exhaled deeply, as though releasing the weight of the world with each breath. His eyes wandered across the expanse of the sky, where the last rays of sunlight bathed the landscape in a gentle glow. The peacefulness of the moment seemed to stretch on forever.
Magnus hummed in agreement, his gaze lingering on the peaceful scene, but the sound of water splashing drew Caelus’s attention. He glanced over, and his face flushed instantly at the sight.
“Sorry—I didn’t realise you were—uh—washing up,” Caelus stammered, his eyes darting away as he tried to ignore the awkwardness that settled over him.
Magnus, unfazed, stood waist-deep in the pond, his movements smooth and practised as he tied his hair up high, keeping it neatly out of the water. “It’s fine,” he said, his voice calm and steady as he rinsed his arms and shoulders. The water sparkled around him, droplets glistening as he moved, undisturbed by Caelus's sudden discomfort. Nearby, the pipmunk, not one to miss an opportunity for a splash, imitated Magnus by gleefully dipping its paws into the water and splashing it onto its fur, sending tiny droplets flying in every direction.
After a moment of silence, Magnus spoke, his tone calm but thoughtful. “I’m fine now, by the way.”
Caelus shifted slightly, his gaze still averted, though his curiosity lingered. “Are you sure?”
Magnus nodded, the motion almost imperceptible beneath the surface of the water. “The flight helped me clear my thoughts,” he said, his voice steady but carrying a depth of reflection. “I was… talking with Verdan the whole time. She’s very sympathetic, you know.” His words were tinged with a quiet sincerity, as though he were sharing something personal, a small piece of his inner world. The weight of his earlier melancholy seemed to have lifted, replaced by a peaceful clarity that Caelus couldn’t help but notice.
“Ah, like what you did with Azurath yesterday?” Caelus asked, his eyes wide with curiosity. “Is it like telepathy?”
Magnus gave a small nod, his expression thoughtful as he stepped out of the pond. A soft glow emanated from him as he summoned a cloth from his inventory, watching it materialise in his hand. He began to dry off, the fabric absorbing the water from his skin with a faint rustle. “They’re incredibly intelligent,” he said, his voice carrying a quiet reverence. “Verdan was very patient. It helped clear my mind, just talking with her.” The words seemed to linger in the air, their quiet weight settling between them, as if the bond he shared with the dragon went deeper than mere communication.
Caelus smiled faintly, his respect for Magnus deepening as he watched the calm, assured way the man carried himself. “Well, if you ever need anything, just let me know,” he said, his voice warm with sincerity.
Magnus tied his hair into a loose side braid, the strands falling effortlessly into place as the pipmunk, now content and dry, climbed back onto his shoulder with a soft chirp. “Thank you,” he replied quietly, his tone carrying a subtle gratitude that lingered in the air.
Together, they turned and made their way back toward the group, the forest around them alive with the rhythmic hum of crickets and the gentle rustle of leaves in the evening breeze. The world felt quieter now, the weight of their conversation giving way to the peace of the moment as they walked side by side, the soft sounds of nature surrounding them like an embrace.