"There's something off with that boy."

"Shush up." Garrick hissed at his wife in the back of the stall. Market day brought even the most remote villagers to the emporium in Marlugrathara. Mirabel bobbed her head in acceptance of the rebuke, the lanes between the stalls were quite full today, and being seen to denigrate a marketgoer would do their business no favors. Besides, as odd as Alden was, he was well-known throughout the town. Out in the Veildwood Shroud, his mother and father raised him, and they rarely showed their face, but Alden came often either for supplies on market days or just to hear the skid drivers talk about the news of the day in one of the local pubs.

Alden lithely threaded through the crowd with practice ease in Marlugrathara's bustling emporium, his bright green eyes alight with excitement as he surveyed the chaotic tapestry of traders and patrons. The cacophony of a hundred different tongues and the exotic spices and smoky street food from across a thousand worlds danced on the air and engulfed Alden, while merchants' voices clamored over one another to lure customers to their stalls. Alden felt a thrill run through him, his innate curiosity piqued by the recent arrival of a convoy from the spaceport at the capital city, Braskumara. The air was thick with the weight of news traded as eagerly as the wares on display. The planet Umbralumara had only recently begun open trade with the worlds of the Galactic Council, so many items were new and unknown. Alden's keen gaze took in everything from the richly embroidered silks of swirling gowns of far-flung systems and the glint of magi-forged trinkets with intricate metalwork that gleamed like captured stardust. He approached a vendor selling otherworldly fruits, their vibrant hues demanding attention amidst the cacophony of colors.

"Ah, Alden!" the vendor exclaimed, recognizing the curious boy. "I see you've come for your weekly supplies."

"Indeed, Master Vareck," Alden replied with a nod, his earnest nature shining through as he carefully selected the ripest fruits. "These jularian berries look particularly succulent today."

"Ah, yes," responded Vareck, beaming proudly. "Fresh off my latest skid from Braskumara."

“Has the delegation arrived?”

“Not I have heard, yet. ‘Sposed to ‘rrive in ten or twelve days as I understand. You hope to visit and catch sight?” Vareck squinted one eye with a lopsided grin at Alden.

“I would if Braskumara were closer.“ Alden paid for his purchase and continued onward. He nodded at a burly Xovru blacksmith whose stall bristled with enchanted weapons, their hues shifting between shades of deadly beauty. "Master Goruk," he greeted, his voice carrying above the din as he approached. "Anything new today?"

Goruk grinned, revealing a mouth full of gold teeth. "Aye, young 'un. See this here? Dagger from Cradus 33." He said, brandishing a simple-looking blade. "Send an untrained mage in a tizzy, it would."

Alden tittered at the sales pitch, remembering the quote ‘No matter how subtle the mage, a knife between the shoulder blades will seriously cramp his style.’ "I think any blade would do, Master Goruk.”

“True, but if’n ya’gotta, best be doing it in style, nay?” Goruk's grin widened, always pleased to banter with the witty youth.

Alden tipped his head in a small bow. "I suppose there's some truth to that. How's business been? Looks like you've added quite a few new pieces since I last stopped by."

Goruk nodded, his expression turning more serious. "Aye, business be good, but-en 'eres more want 'an ever."

Alden frowned, realizing the weight of Goruk's words. "I suppose it's wise to be prepared. Have you heard anything specific?"

Goruk shook his head. "Just whispers, boy. You do be keeping them ears open."

Alden nodded, absorbing the information. "Thanks for the warning, Master Goruk. I'll be careful."

"Good lad," Goruk said, clapping Alden on the shoulder.

Alden smiled, "Take care, Master Goruk."

"You too, Alden," Goruk replied, watching as the young boy moved on through the bustling market.

"Ah, Alden, always seeking knowledge," an ancient Zyneerian seeress whispered out of a covered stall as Alden passed near. He jerked to a stop and bowed to the darkened interior. "Be warned, some secrets are best left buried."

"Mistress Selune," Alden stepped forward into the covers of the stall. "How are you today?"

From the inky recess, something began to emerge, a shadowy appendage that seemed to defy the natural order. It resembled an ebony finger, yet it was far too long, with too many joints that bent at unsettling angles, and it had the cold, unyielding hardness of stone. The sight of it sent a shiver down Alden’s spine. Selune was never seen; she remained a mystery cloaked in darkness. Alden’s father, Lucian, had warned him repeatedly, with a gravity that was impossible to ignore, never to try to uncover her true form, no matter how insatiable his curiosity might be.

Despite Lucian and Elara's reclusive nature, their influence permeated every corner of Umbralumara. Their knowledge and abilities were legendary, whispered about in reverent tones. People often spoke of Lucian’s wisdom and Elara’s gentle strength, and many traveled from distant parts of the planet to seek their counsel, though most never found it. Alden had inherited their insatiable curiosity, but his frequent trips to town set him apart from his secluded parents.

As the appendage extended further, it seemed to absorb the surrounding light, casting the stall into a deeper shadow. Alden felt a chill wash over him as the unnaturally cold appendage brushed the top of his head, a touch that felt both real and otherworldly. The moment stretched into what felt like an eternity before the appendage finally withdrew, retreating back into the darkness, leaving Alden with the lingering sensation of its eerie presence.

“Well enough, and happy now to have seen you.” Even with the whispered airiness of her voice, Alden could hear the smile. “You have grown again. Elara must be so proud of you. Tell her, when you get home, I would see her again.”

"I will pass along your message, ma'am. Elara will be glad of your well wishes." With a final bow and a warm smile to Mistress Selune, he continued on his journey through the maze of stalls and vendors, pausing only briefly to examine a tapestry woven from Zephyrian silk or to haggle over a glinting crystal said to originate from the distant rings of Aethera-7.

As Alden departed the bustling emporium, burdened with provisions, he slipped into an alley with practiced ease and moved quickly to a short stairway down to a basement with an old, soot-stained sign. Within this dimly illuminated sanctuary, a motley assortment of patrons filled the air with a hushed symphony of conversation and laughter.

"…Ambassador Veridian Thorne's arrival is imminent, I've heard," whispered a grizzled man hidden in the shadows. "The negotiations could change everything for Umbralumara."

"Indeed," replied a younger woman, her voice barely audible above the din. “though Lady Serkia is going to have to be very shrewd.”

"...negotiations to include Umbralumara in the Galactic Council," one grizzled spacer muttered over a mug of foamy ale at the bar. "Haven't seen this much excitement since the last time a White Wyrm was spotted in Veilwood Shroud."

"Aye, but the stakes are higher now, don't you think?" his companion replied.

Alden glided unnoticed through the tavern, his acute senses capturing fragments of discourse. The embrace of the dimly lit interior enveloped him like an old friend, guiding his passage between sturdy tables and secluded alcoves. Skid drivers and loaders, engrossed in their libations and contemplations, paid the boy no mind, affording him the opportunity to absorb the snippets of dialogue like a thirsty sponge.

Slipping into the back area, Alden greeted the proprietor and cook of the pub, a robust figure adorned with a luxuriant beard and an affable grin. "Alden, my boy! Off home with provisions from the emporium, are you?" The man's jovial tone exuded warmth and familiarity.

Alden nodded, returning the smile. "Yes, Master Haldor. Just a few essentials for the week."

Without hesitation, Haldor wiped his hands on his apron and presented a platter laden with piping hot morsels. "Here, take these. Fresh from the oven." Haldor deftly swept the baked goods off the tray into a waiting satchel. Alden expressed his gratitude with a nod before slipping out of the rear entrance of the skid driver's refuge.

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Taking well a known route through the city alleys and byways, he came to the edge of the Veilwood Shroud. Following a path only he could see, he slipped into the twilight embrace of the forest. The ancient trees loomed over him, their gnarled limbs casting long twisted shadows over the misty path before him, the dense canopy overhead kept a perpetual gloom over the forest floor while the fog that rose from the damp moss limited visibility, leading most that ventured this way to be lost, until the beast that called the Veilwood found them. For Alden, the leaves rustled under his steady and confident steps as he navigated through the dense forest, it was as if the forest was bending to his will, parting ways as he sought out the small spring in a tiny glade. A tight ring of newer, smaller trees crowded around the clearing. An old giant had fallen, tearing deep into the ground with its roots, bringing water to the surface long ago, and leaving a small gap for sunlight to cascade to the forest floor. Long dormant seeds had surged forth and now there was only a small hidden path in the hull of the old giant that pierced the curtain of growth surrounding the spring and fighting for the light. Father and Mother would not expect him home until evening, and he had left Marlugrathara earlier than expected.

Alden sat on the edge of the spring, soaking his feet in the fresh spring water, watching the light play around the glade. In the heart of the sunbeam, some of the mist gathered closer together, coalescing into a rough ball of denser atmosphere.

"Hi Lys." Alden greeted one of his invisible companions with a smile. Lysandra shimmered for a moment, the ball of fog scattering prismatic motes about the glade, before elongating and swooping around and down to Alden's shoulder, curling its trail around his upper arm.

"Alden, it is always a pleasure to see you," Lysandra's voice hummed melodically and resonated through the clearing like a soft breeze. She shifted her center off his shoulder, remaining wrapped about his arm, casting rainbow hues upon the surrounding foliage. "Something you heard in town has bothered you."

Alden hesitated, his gaze drifting over the rippling surface of the spring before meeting Lysandra's shimmering form. He could not answer and she would not push, but he always did. "I... I feel inadequate, Lys," he began softly, his voice tinged with a mixture of longing and uncertainty. "Our planet is going to be given a seat in the Galactic Council. It won't be just goods traded off world, people can go too. And the Princess will be going first. I love these woods, Lys, but I feel stuck."

Lysandra pulsed softly in response, pausing a few moments to consider her answer. "Sometimes, Alden, it is the simple longing for growth that sparks the change," she responded gently, her form twinkling brighter. "Do not deny the pull of the world beyond this forest, nor suppress your desire to explore it, but temper it with the caution. Change to simply change has no meaning. Find a meaning to your desire, and you will have purpose. The Shroud may have nurtured you, but it does not define you. It's natural to feel uncertain when things are changing."

Alden looked down at his hands, noting how they trembled slightly. He flexed his fingers against the mossy ground, his gaze tracing the path of a silverfish as it scurried across the leaf-strewn surface. His green eyes flickered with an indescribable yearning, a burning need to know. He knew she was right; he'd always felt a deep sense of belonging to the Veilwood Shroud and its ethereal beauty. Yet a part of him yearned for the wonders that lay beyond – fantastical cities teeming with arcane technologies, empires spanning distant stars, and the captivating allure of magic and space travel. He glanced at Lysandra once more, taking comfort in her reassuring glow.

"But what if...," he began, then abruptly fell silent. The shadows of the trees had deepened from Lysandra's glow, and now tendrils pulled away and crept towards Alden. He watched as they slowly coalesced into a semi-solid figure. Ember eyes glowed softly in the darkness, wreathing itself in smoke.

"Ah..." Alden nodded slightly toward the figure. "Vaelus."

“Nervousness is not a symptom of inadequacy, Alden,” Vaelus said, his voice low and measured like the whispering wind through ancient trees. “It’s a sign of understanding – understanding that there is so much more to experience and learn.” The shadowy form drifted closer until it loomed over Alden's side opposite Lysandra. The presence of Vaelus was more cryptic than comforting.

"And so the scholar becomes the philosopher," Lysandra’s jab carried a veil of amusement.

"I merely offer perspective," he replied, his voice resembling the rustling of dry leaves under a weightless breeze.

"That's your way of encouraging me?" Alden asked with a half-hearted laugh that carried little humor. He glanced from Vaelus to Lysandra and back again.

"Probably not what you wanted to hear," Vaelus replied, the corners of his shadowed form curling playfully. "However, it is truth. A truth you must confront."

Lysandra’s glow brightened slightly as though she were chuckling silently at their exchange. "Vaelus always did love his riddles—"

"And Lysandra her comforting platitudes," interjected Vaelus with a scoff that sent ripples through his smoky form.

Lysandra's luminescent form pulsed with soft laughter as she regarded her darker counterpart. "Ever the pessimist, aren't you, Vaelus?"

"Realist," corrected Vaelus tersely, though there was no heat behind his words. A softening of the shadow’s depth hinted at an amused smile.

Alden couldn't suppress his grin at their bantering – this was how it had always been. This bizarre kinship was entwined with his every memory, since his infancy, Lysandra and Vaelus had been his constant companions, albeit invisible to anyone else: two ageless entities bound to him for reasons beyond his comprehension. They had seen him take his first step, whisper his first word, been there when he had failed to demonstrate even the most basic form of magic. Alden’s father and mother assured him that it didn’t matter to them, but it sometimes made Alden wonder if his lack of magic all the peoples of Umbralumara could use was the cause for his family’s move to Veilwood when he was so young. Together, Vaelus and Lysandra had been his playmates in childhood games, exploring partners as he learned the ways of the Shroud. With them, Alden navigated life's turbulent currents - unseen and unheard by anyone else.

"I understand," Alden murmured, his voice steady. They offered their wisdom, and it was ultimately his to interpret and act upon.

As though sensing his resolve, Lysandra's glow softened while Vaelus' shadowy form dissipated into the night. Alden rose from his seat by the pond, bidding farewell to the secluded glade, the path home beckoned with familiar sighs of Veilwood Shroud. The scent of ancient bark, the caress of misty air, the soft crunch of fallen leaves underfoot, all the familiar things dissipated his worries as his pace quickened nearing home. Underneath the watchful eyes of ethereal companions, he reached his home nestled deep within the forest, stars were beginning to pierce through the perpetual twilight canopy, casting dappled patterns onto the sprawling wooden structure of Fairwood House.

"Dad! Mom!" Alden's voice echoed through the spacious great room that welcomed guests as they entered Fairwood House. The comforting scent of Elara's herbal brews enveloped him, mingling with the flickering warmth of the hearthfire that kissed his cheek. Alden's gaze swept across the room, taking in the imposing dining table, a masterpiece crafted by his father from one of the great trees of Veilwood, positioned to his right. Elara stood in the open kitchen, her eyes lighting up with warmth as she looked up to greet him. Down the length of the central great room, Alden's eyes traced the hallway leading to the private rooms. To his left, a few steps led down to the other half of the room, spanning the remainder house's width. Here, a grand stone fireplace dominated one wall, encircled by plush, inviting chairs. The rest of the far wall was expansive windows stretched from floor to ceiling, offering panoramic views of a serene patio, where a shimmering pond and a small stable nestled peacefully in the back. Lucien glanced up from his desk nestled in a corner of the sitting area, purposefully eschewing a formal office setting to be close to Elara and Alden.

"Alden, you're back." Lucien said, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.

"I couldn't wait to show you what I got!" Alden exclaimed, placing the provisions on the sturdy oak table.

Elara, graceful and serene in her demeanor, emerged from the kitchen with a knowing smile. "Let's see what treasures you've brought us today," she said, her eyes twinkling with maternal pride.

Alden eagerly unpacked the jularian berries and other exotic fruits, each item a story of its own from Master Vareck's stall. "These are from the latest skid from Braskumara," Alden explained, handing Elara a bundle of fresh herbs.

Lucien chuckled softly, ruffling Alden's tousled hair. "You're as resourceful as ever, my boy."

As they gathered around the table, a gentle breeze seemed to dance through the cottage, carrying with it the faintest whisper of Lysandra and Vaelus. Lysandra's voice hummed softly, her presence shimmering like sunlight filtering through leaves.

Elara poured cups of herbal tea, her touch imbued with a subtle magic that infused the room with tranquility. "Tell us, Alden," she said, her gaze gentle yet perceptive, "did anything interesting happen at the market today?"

Alden regaled them with tales of Master Goruk's enchanted weapons and Mistress Selune's cryptic words.

"To anyone else, caution when speaking of Selune." Velus' deep voice murmured softly, blending into the ambient quiet like the rustling of ancient trees. Both he and Lysandra had mastered the art of discreetly adding their voices in ways that didn't disturb Alden. Initially, Alden had struggled with managing his interactions with Lysandra and Vaelus, who only he could hear. Over time, he grew adept at integrating their interjections and commentary seamlessly into his conversations. However, he remained cautious not to divulge the entirety of his interactions with his invisible companions. While Lysandra and Vaelus placed implicit trust in Lucien and Elara, Alden held back certain details out of fear and embarrassment, knowing they wouldn't fully understand. Lucien, ever perceptive, listened closely, occasionally catching glimpses of Alden's unspoken thoughts.

"It sounds like you had quite the adventure," Lucien remarked, his voice tinged with quiet pride.

Alden nodded enthusiastically, his eyes bright with excitement. "It was amazing, Dad. The market was buzzing with news about the upcoming delegation to Braskumara and the talks to join the Galactic Council."

Lucien exchanged a glance with Elara, their unspoken understanding weaving a tapestry of parental concern tinged with shadows of a deeper, unspoken worry. Beneath their serene demeanor and the idyllic remoteness of their home in the Veilwood Shroud, hints of Lucien's intricate ties to distant politics flickered, a world far removed from the tranquility they tried to maintain for their son's sake.

As evening deepened in the Veilwood Shroud, casting long shadows through the manor windows, Alden felt a deep sense of belonging and the quiet magic of family bonds.

"I love you, Mom. Dad," Alden said earnestly.