Aelion Silverwind stood at the edge of the docks, watching as his parents’ fishing boat disappeared beyond the misty horizon. His father, Edril, waved one last time before vanishing into the morning fog, and his mother, Sera, offered her usual, reassuring smile. Their ship, laden with supplies and equipment, was one of many that set sail each week to bring back food for the people of Aethercrest. It was their livelihood, their duty to the city, and now, for the first time, they had left Aelion behind.

He was eighteen now, no longer a boy, but the absence of his parents left a strange hollowness in his chest. Just days ago, they had celebrated his birthday with a small dinner, a modest affair, but a happy one. They had promised to return before the next full moon, but until then, Aelion found himself alone. Alone and restless.

The early morning breeze swept across the harbor, carrying with it the scent of saltwater and wood smoke. Aelion adjusted the strap of his quiver over his shoulder, fingers brushing against the worn leather. His bow, a gift from his father, felt light in his hands, but it served as a constant reminder of the expectations placed on him. He had been practicing for years now, hoping one day to join the Archery Guild like his father had once dreamed of doing before his injury. But time had slipped by, and Aelion’s progress had been slow, too slow, it seemed.

With nothing to anchor him to the harbor, Aelion turned and began to make his way into the city proper. Aethercrest was alive with the sounds of morning activity: merchants setting up their stalls, airships humming overhead, and the rhythmic clang of metal as the Prospector's Guild tinkered with their latest inventions. The streets buzzed with life, an intricate web of technology and magic woven into the very fabric of the city.

Aelion always felt a surge of pride walking through the city center. Aethercrest was unlike any other place in Eldravale. Tall, gleaming towers rose from the earth, their surfaces a patchwork of metal, glass, and crystal, all connected by bridges and walkways that crisscrossed the sky. Steam-powered machines whirred and clanked in the background, the handiwork of the Prospector's Guild, who had long since integrated magic and technology to power the city. Lanterns, powered by shimmering arcane crystals, lined the streets, their soft light flickering even in the daylight.

Despite his lingering loneliness, the city’s energy filled Aelion with excitement. Today felt different, as if something important was about to happen.

As he wandered through the narrow streets, Aelion found himself drawn toward the heart of Aethercrest, the city center, where the great square was often filled with merchants, performers, and visitors from across Eldravale. Today was no different. A large crowd had gathered, watching a group of acrobats twirl through the air, their movements graceful and synchronized. Bright fabrics of red and gold spun in the air like fire, captivating the audience.

Aelion paused to watch, his green eyes following their every move. The sun hung high in the sky now, casting golden light across the performers and the cobblestone streets. He leaned against a nearby stall, allowing himself to get lost in the show. For a moment, the weight of his worries lifted, replaced by the carefree laughter of children and the joyous applause of the crowd.

But as his gaze wandered, something caught his eye.

In the distance, just beyond the performers, a series of tables had been set up, each one manned by representatives of the city’s four guilds: the Archery Guild, the Arcane Guild, the Prospector’s Guild, and the Warrior’s Guild. Banners representing each faction waved proudly above the tables, and around them, a few young men and women were milling about, examining what the guilds had to offer.

Aelion’s heart skipped a beat. He knew what this meant.

It was recruitment day.

The realization hit him like a gust of wind. How could he have forgotten? For weeks, he had been thinking about it, dreaming about it, and now... now it was here. And today was the last day to sign up.

He pushed through the crowd, weaving between onlookers and merchants, his heart racing. When he reached the row of tables, he saw that each one had a line of eager recruits, all around his age. Some carried weapons or magical trinkets, others tools or gadgets. All of them wore the same hopeful expression that Aelion felt rising in his own chest.

Aelion’s eyes locked onto the Archery Guild’s table, where a stern-looking woman in a dark green cloak sat, her gaze sweeping over the small group of recruits. Behind her, the banner of the Archery Guild fluttered in the wind, depicting a silver arrow flying through a crescent moon. The woman’s hair was pulled back in a tight braid, and her sharp eyes made her seem as though she could size up every potential recruit with just a glance.

Aelion hesitated for a moment, his fingers tightening around the strap of his quiver. This was it, the moment he had been waiting for. Ever since he was old enough to understand the stories his father told him, he had dreamed of this. Joining the Archery Guild, training under the best, and becoming a master marksman like the great archers of old.

But as he stepped closer, the doubts crept in. Was he ready? Would they even accept him? He had been practicing, but he wasn’t as skilled as some of the others he had seen. What if they turned him away?

He took a deep breath and approached the table. The woman glanced up at him, her expression unreadable.

The representative looked at Aelion from head to toe and forced an overly happy smile. “You look like you want to join the Archery Guild!”

Aelion swallowed his nerves and straightened his posture. His voice was steady, though his heart was pounding.

Aelion nervously spoke aloud, “Yes, I must follow in my father’s footsteps and complete his dream!”

The woman studied him for a long moment, her eyes flicking to the bow slung over his shoulder. Then, with a nod, she reached into her satchel and pulled out a parchment. The recruitment form.

“You have potential, hopefully,” she said, her tone neutral but not unkind. “Fill this out. If you’re accepted, someone from the guild will visit your home tomorrow.”

Aelion’s hands trembled slightly as he took the parchment and quill, but he quickly bent over the table, filling out his information. His name, age, background, it all felt like a blur as he scrawled his answers, his excitement building with each stroke of the pen. When he was finished, he handed the parchment back, his breath catching in his throat as the woman rolled it up and placed it with the others.

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“There you go, I look forward to tomorrow. And uh, I hope you really consider me, I’m sure somebody will recognize my last name.” Aelion spoke anxiously.

“Mmhmm…” The representative retorted, not caring whatsoever suddenly.

He stepped back from the table, his heart still racing. He had done it. He had signed up for the Archery Guild. Now, all that was left was to wait and see if he would be accepted.

As he turned to leave, a sudden wave of excitement and nervousness washed over him. His feet felt light, as if he could barely keep them on the ground, and he found himself wandering through the city in a daze.

Aelion let his feet carry him aimlessly through the streets, his mind buzzing with thoughts of what tomorrow might bring. Would they accept him? What would his parents think when they returned and found out he had joined the guild? His mother would be proud, no doubt. His father... well, his father had always been a man of few words when it came to the Archery Guild. The injury he had sustained years ago still weighed heavily on him, even if he never spoke of it.

As Aelion walked, he couldn’t help but marvel at the city around him. Aethercrest was alive with wonder. The streets hummed with the low, mechanical sounds of arcane machinery. Airships sailed through the sky, leaving trails of steam behind them as they soared between the tall spires. The technology of the Prospector’s Guild was everywhere, clockwork devices ticking in the corners of shops, enchanted streetlamps that flickered on as the sun began to set, and gears that turned in intricate patterns, powering the city’s various mechanisms.

He passed by one of the city’s many fountains, its waters flowing through a series of glass tubes that spiraled up into the air before cascading back down into the pool below. Children played nearby, their laughter ringing out over the sounds of the city.

The lanterns hanging along the streets flickered to life as dusk settled over the city, casting a warm, golden glow over everything. Aelion found himself walking toward the eastern district, where the guild halls stood proudly in the distance, their banners flying high. The thought of training there sent another surge of excitement through him. Tomorrow, he would know if his future was with them.

By the time Aelion returned home, the sky was dark, and the streets were quiet. He opened the door to the small house he shared with his parents, the familiar scent of wood and herbs greeting him. His mother’s plants lined the windowsills, and the fireplace still crackled with a low flame. It was a cozy home, modest but filled with warmth.

Aelion set his bow by the door and slumped into a chair, the events of the day finally catching up to him. His body ached from walking, but his mind was still spinning. Tomorrow... he would know.

He sat there for a long time, staring into the fire, wondering what the future held for him. Would he make it into the guild? Would he become the archer his father never had the chance to be?

With a sigh, Aelion pushed himself up from the chair and made his way to his room. As he lay down on his bed, he stared up at the ceiling, the glow of the city’s lights filtering in through the window. Outside, the faint hum of the airships could still be heard, a reminder of the world that never seemed to sleep, but after many moments, Aelion would succeed in finding slumber.

In his dream, Aelion found himself standing in the thick of a forest, the trees towering high above him, their branches casting long shadows that danced across the ground. The air was thick and heavy, filled with the scent of pine and damp earth, but there was something else, too, an underlying tension, like the forest itself was holding its breath.

And there, not far ahead of him, stood his father.

Edril Silverwind, younger and stronger than Aelion had ever known him. His shoulders were broad, his stance firm, and his bow was drawn tight, an arrow nocked and ready to fly. The younger version of his father seemed more alive, more focused, than the man Aelion had seen growing up. His eyes, sharp, unwavering, were fixed on something in the distance, hidden in the undergrowth.

Aelion tried to move toward him, to speak, but no sound left his lips. He could only watch.

The scene shifted, blurred, and suddenly they were deeper in the woods. Aelion recognized it now, this was no ordinary forest. This was the fateful hunt. The hunt his father had spoken of only once, in hushed tones, late at night when he thought Aelion had been asleep.

The mission that had ended his father’s career.

Edril had been tasked with eliminating a family of bobcats that had been terrorizing the side roads near Aethercrest, attacking travelers and disrupting trade routes. It should have been a simple mission, one suited for a seasoned archer. But something had gone wrong, terribly wrong.

In the dream, Aelion saw it unfold before his eyes. His father crouched low in the bushes, his breath steady, his bowstring drawn taut. The bobcats, sleek, muscular, and deadly, moved through the underbrush with a predatory grace. Edril’s focus was absolute, his aim true. He released the arrow.

The sharp whistle of the arrow flying through the air was followed by a sickening thud as it struck the largest of the bobcats in the side. The beast snarled, its body twisting in pain, but it did not fall. Instead, it lunged, with a speed that took even the great Edril Silverwind by surprise. The other bobcats followed, their eyes gleaming with a feral hunger.

Aelion watched in helpless silence as the scene played out, as though it were happening in slow motion.

Edril managed to loose another arrow, striking a second bobcat, but it wasn’t enough. The largest of the beasts, a massive, scarred male charged forward, its jaws wide. Before his father could react, the creature's powerful jaws clamped down on Edril’s right shoulder, the crunch of bone audible even through the dream.

Aelion flinched, his heart pounding in his chest. The pain on his father’s face was visceral, raw. Blood seeped through his clothes as the bobcat's teeth tore through muscle and bone, the strength in Edril’s arm faltering as he struggled to fight back. His bow fell from his grasp, the string snapping as it hit the ground.

And in that moment, Aelion understood.

This was the moment that had ended his father’s career. The moment that had haunted him every day since.

Edril managed to drive a dagger into the bobcat’s side, forcing it to release its grip, but the damage was done. His shoulder was shattered, the tendons torn beyond repair. The other bobcats scattered, but the cost was too high.

Aelion tried to call out, to warn him, to do something, but the forest was silent. He was nothing more than a spectator to his father’s failure, to the tragedy that had shaped their family’s history. His father’s face twisted in agony, and he collapsed to the ground, clutching his ruined arm.

The scene began to fade, the forest growing darker around him.

Aelion jerked awake, his heart racing and his body drenched in sweat. His breathing was ragged as he stared up at the ceiling, his mind still tangled in the remnants of the dream. It felt so real, the sound of his father’s bones breaking, the sight of the blood, the look of despair in his eyes.

He sat up in bed, wiping the sweat from his brow as he tried to shake the feeling of dread that clung to him. The fire in the hearth had long since burned out, and the house was cold and still. Outside, the soft hum of the city had faded into the quiet of the night, but for Aelion, sleep would not come again.

He could still feel the weight of his father’s failure, the echo of it lingering in his bones. Was this his future, too? Would he be doomed to fail, just as his father had? Would he make some fatal mistake, something that would end his dreams before they even began?

Aelion closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts. Tomorrow would bring answers. Tomorrow, the Archery Guild would decide his fate.

But tonight... tonight would be long.