The following day, Vell set out from Sonder once more to remedy the damage he had inflicted upon the forest.
After teaching her to conjure fire, he had some worries and hoped that, left to her own devices, she wouldn’t inadvertently set fire to any more of it.
But he had enough faith in the young banshee to trust that she would exercise restraint.
Choosing to walk, as was his custom, Vell moved at a leisurely pace.
He could have employed faster methods, finishing his tasks in less time. However, the idea of hastening through his duties left him wondering what he would do afterward.
With Boscage abdication as Green Wizard, his ties to Celadon had loosened, and he didn’t want to idle while Sonder still had her own pursuits.
He still had to find someone who would be a suitable teacher for her.
Rubbing his hands through his hair, Vell reflected on his confusion.
He still had so many things to do, but he didn’t want to do them too quickly due to the fear of having nothing to do afterwards.
To many, this might seem an unreasonable worry, but for Vell, it was a genuine concern.
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As he walked, leaning on his staff, his stride was slow and deliberate. His stature, modest compared to many other races, naturally dictated a measured pace.
Occasionally, he glimpsed movements nearby—animals that skittered away upon realizing they were noticed. Vell didn’t make it difficult to spot him; he waved to them whenever he caught sight of one that was watching him.
The flora around him seemed to wear an air of suspicion as well.
Unlike Sonder, who tired to only lightly step upon the earth as if to honor every blade of grass, Vell trudged through them.
They had long accepted their role in the great cycle of nature, and he felt it was not his place to disturb the order of things.
It seemed like the whole forest was keeping an eye on him.
“I’m not going to do anything rash,” he called out into the depths of the woods, his voice echoing amid the trees. “Not anymore.” He murmured the last part to himself.
Just then, a small bird flitted down from a nearby branch, landing lightly in front of him.
Its feathers were a colorful mix of blues and greens, and it was small enough to fit comfortably in his hand.
“Truly?” it chirped, tilting its head curiously. “I always knew you had a fiery temper, though I didn’t think Celadon would ever witness it.”
“I’d call it a crime of passion,” Vell replied, amused by the creature’s boldness. If it knew his temper, why face him like that?
“Your voice sounds oddly familiar. Do I know you?”
The bird danced playfully around his feet, its wings fluttering as it spoke. “You do, and I know you well. But I have changed,” it announced, its tone both playful and cryptic.
“Changed, you say? I’m certain I’d recognize a beautiful bird like you anywhere,” he laughed.
The bird paused for a moment, fixing him with a knowing gaze. “We’ll meet again soon, so you won’t have to miss me,” it promised, before stretching its wings wide and taking to the sky.
As the small creature soared away, though their encounter hovered on the edge of ominous, it left him with an inexplicable good feeling in his heart.