The calm lake beneath the raging waterfall was chillingly cold on account of the dropping temperature, but did wonders in cleaning built up dirt and grime. A young boy rigorously washed his body from tip to toe in the ice cold lake despite his heavy shivering, yet no matter how much he occupied his mind with cleaning, the blood on his hands would not disappear.

August knew that such a mundane activity wasn't enough to distract him from his thoughts, but it was worth a shot. The boy rose from the depths of the lake and calmly walked out to a large stone he placed his clothes atop. The small woodland creatures that lived near the waterfall didn't seem to mind August's presence, which made the area something like a safe zone for him to rest. Though truthfully, "rest" was something he got little of lately.

The boy put on his ragged pants and beast skin after letting himself dry in the cool fall winds. He threw his new quiver strap over his shoulder, tightened his new waistband that held the sheathed blade on his hip, and tied the white cloth that once held his killed food around his waist. August used a broken vine to tie his growing hair in a crude ponytail before saying goodbye to his little safe place, likely for the last time.

A few months had passed since the incident with the bandits occurred. Since then August became much more willing to use his shadow ability; while it certainly did take a lot of energy and practically immobilized him for long periods of time, his growing proficiency in hunting and crafting covered that downside.

Additionally, he also covered far more ground with it than without it. It was like simply using it boosted his physical capabilities three fold; the measly 25 to 30 miles he covered daily easily jumped up to 65 or 70. The mere feeling was rather intoxicating after going so long without it, but August grew increasingly better at suppressing his emotions.

It was a life-saving skill, to be honest. The longer he used it the more he wondered how he survived so long without it. Those impulses and desires to cry or pout weren't removed, but overshadowed by one-track goals: "pursue" or "continue" were his go-to choices, but the word didn't matter. So long as it ensured his true thoughts didn't affect his daily tasks, he used it. Even the three corpses that would have the old him shuddering with regret couldn't get to him now.

August sped across the river's edge for well over two hours straight, without pause or breaks, before stopping abruptly. It wasn't because he was tired by any means, he could actually keep going for a while longer, but something peculiar caught his eye.

It was a stone well, fit with a wooden bucket held up by a thin vertical beam. The placement confused him considering it sat next to a pure river, but the signs of wear and age on the well told him it was here long before the river was. It was the first time August had come across something man made that wasn't in tatters or ruins. The well of natural decay alone wasn't much, but the implication behind it was huge.

If it was here, then there must be a residence or even village nearby.

The thought of meeting other people once again wasn't met with much elation compared to before, rather, it was overshadowed by the fear that he would meet with more people out for his head. Even still, he refused to let his fear stop him from reaching Jericho City… or learning of its fate.

August brushed his hand across the edge of the well and watched as small flakes with numbers rivaling an army sailed away with the winds. He recalled hearing a folktale that used to go with the well, but couldn't remember anything about the tradition that originated from it. The boy turned away from the well to leave, with the thought that out of all the aged and broken relics he came across, that well was likely the most intact.

The mid Fall winds were heavy yet surprisingly soothing. August took joy out of watching the large trees and their leaves' pigmentation slowly but surely change over time, but more so enjoyed what happened after. Like now, he watched the orange hued leaves break apart from their parent trees and ride through the winds without a single care, carried by nothing more than a whistling woosh and their light bodies. The sight alone left a lasting impression on the boy, one that brought back that childish gleam, even if for a moment.

Snap!

The light sound of a breaking twig almost immediately brought August back to his senses. The boy gripped the black sheath with his right hand and held onto the handle of the blade with his left, turning to face the intruder within seconds. His provocative glare landed on a person, of all things. A boy likely just a few years his senior, with muddy brown hair and similar colored eyes holding a long wooden stick carrying buckets on each end. From his plain grayish clothing to the freckles on his face, everything spelled "mundane", but August's instincts refused to let up. The scar on his lips was warning enough.

The young man froze up under August's killing intent, though more so shocked that such a young child even had something like it. He caught sight of the bow and quiver strapped across his shoulder, the sheathed blade he held onto with vigor, and the thick beast skin that made it somewhat hard to see the boy's face at his angle. His first thought was that the boy was a savage of sorts, but he quickly drafted that idea. If he really were a savage, the youth was sure the small staredown the two were having would have already ended with his rolling head.

"What do you want?" August's blunt tone shot daggers into the brown-haired youth's skin. He shuddered at the thought that this young boy was prepared to end his life if he answered wrong.

"I mean no harm! I just came here to collect water." The youth hesitantly answered, "If… if I may ask, what are you doing here? You don't seem to be from Ailon Village."

August raised his brow, "Ailon? Like the water goddess?"

The youth shrugged, "It's possible, I've always just known it as Ailon Village though."

August studied the youth many times over, but couldn't find anything off or concerning about him. Unlike the bandits from before, this young man was plain-faced and oozed inexperience; he was positive a single swipe from his blade could take the youth's head if he were quick enough. Sure enough that the brown-haired youth was harmless, August slowly let up on his defenses, though not entirely. "I apologize, please, collect your water."

The youth took August's offer and rather awkwardly inched around him to reach the river. Much to his expectations, the youth stole glances at him every so often out of caution, but slowly got faster the more he was sure the boy wouldn't off him behind his back. With a quick harrumph, the young man lifted the filled buckets from the river and threw the stick right over his head once again; even with the rough winds eager to tip him over, the youth managed to keep his balance and fight against it.

"Would you… like to come to Ailon Village with me?" The youth, who had become somewhat more comfortable around the strange boy, asked.

"Yes, I haven't slept in days." Those words were by no stretch of the imagination exaggerated.

August matched the youth's leisurely pace as the two walked away from the river and through the forest. Though their pace was considerably slower than he own, the boy had to commend the youth's proficiency in carrying the pails of water; from pits made by smaller woodland creatures to the small logs they came across, the youth expertly carried the pails without losing so much as a drop. That expertise was likely how he managed to steal glances at the boy while moving, though he couldn't much blame the youth. He had no real clue how he looked to others as it stood, but it wouldn't surprise him if they thought he were a caveman.

"Hey, umm… so where are you from? Are you lost? Do you have parents or anything?" The youth's curiosity practically oozed out of his questions, but the hesitation in his tone was evident enough that he didn't expect August to answer any of them. Luckily for him, the boy didn't mind the questions much.

"I was certainly lost, for how long I have no earthly clue." He replied, "As for my parents, they died long ago."

"Oh…" The youth turned and noticed the shockingly deep scar on the leftmost side of August's lips that ran down to the bottom end of his chin. The boy's yellow eyes were dulled yet focused, with an equally plain expression that showed no explicit emotion. Were he not so small, the youth would have never believed that the boy was younger than him by at least 5 years.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"This Ailon Village, is it near any towns or cities?" August asked.

"Yes, Sophia City, the city of the night as they call it. It's where our village's yearly income comes from if I recall. Uncle Ray often travels there to trade for farming tools and the like." The youth answered, "Oh, right! My name is Dominic Steele, most people just call me Donny though."

August returned his words with a faint smile, "I am Augustine Calytrix Lucine. My parents simply called me August though."

Donny visibly winced hearing August's response, "Wow… your parents really did have a flair for names."

The two boys laughed and continued their trek, though August couldn't help to think about Donny's reaction if he told him that he was a bonafide royalty. It didn't take long before the two pushed past a wall of vegetation and came across a sight the boy could only consider unbelievably foreign.

Short yet wide home's made of dark brown stone were the first things to enter his vision. To their left were large fields of crops that stretched out farther than he could reliably see, with people sparsely scattered across each one. The cobblestone lined floors ran from one end of the village to the other, where a large building illuminated by sparks and occasional clangs was found. Even as the sky fitted an orange hue under the lowering sun, many villagers went out their daily tasks outside. Women wearing white caps and apron-like dresses carefully and thoroughly washed piles of cloth and placed them alone, a thin hanging string to dry, while others took up arms to tend to the many crops. The men slaved away chopping wood or crafting, whereas others aided the women on the fields. Even the kids were out and about, playing or pestering their parents about their various tasks. The lively village, brimming with different faces and personalities, was a completely new sight for the society-depraved August.

Donny led the awe-shocked boy to a house that sat near the lower end of the village. Like the other houses it was short but fairly wide, though at its front sat a brown-haired young girl around August's age that fiddled with a bracelet of sorts. Upon seeing the bucket-carrying man, the young girl practically threw the bracelet and rushed to his side, woefully unaware of the yellow eyed boy in beast skin beside him.

"Big brother's back!" The young girl gleefully yelled.

August could hear the frantic stomping of what sounded like children behind the residence door, like small elk running to their parents. A brown haired boy and an older blonde haired girl were next to appear, running towards Donny with the same elation the first girl carried.

"Donny's back!" The brown haired boy exclaimed.

"Donny, papa said when you brought back the waters to meet him in the back." The blonde haired girl explained as she took the buckets from the youth. Unlike the other two, she very quickly took notice of August, whose attention had trailed off to the rest of the village. "Who is this?"

The two kids had finally caught sight of the weapon-carrying boy and lit up with childish curiosity. They circled August like sharks from head to toe, getting as close as possible without physically touching him. It came as no surprise to him, seeing a boy their age carrying weapons and clothed in beast fur would catch anyone's attention.

Donny softly laughed at the sight, "This is August, a traveler of sorts. I'm gonna ask pops if we can let him stay for a night or two." The youth turned to the silent boy surrounded by two overly eager kids, "August, this is Cathy. The boy to your left is Dean, and the girl to your right is Gina. These are my siblings."

"I'm Gina!" The young girl to his side rather confidently replied.

"Is the sword real?" The boy named Dean seemed to care little for introduction upon seeing August's weapons. He could tell that practically every cell in his body was probably screaming for him to touch it, with the only thing holding him back being common courtesy. August could only laugh, even before the fall of his kingdom and the days as a traveler, such blatant curiosity was something he wasn't used to.

Thinking about his one moment of selfish curiosity made August's expression darken somewhat.

"It is." He bluntly answered, slightly unsheathing the chipped blade to show to the curious boy.

"Woah!" The boy exclaimed, "Are you like a wandering warrior?"

"No." August replied.

Donny planted his fists firmly atop Dean's head with a sigh as he turned to August, "Sorry about him, he's way too curious for his own good. C'mon, let's meet with my dad to see if we can get you some proper bedding."

August nodded and waved goodbye to the three siblings before following Donny inside. Compared to the rooms he once stayed in long ago, the entire house was rather barren in his eyes, but held a warm and soothing quality to it that made the barren interior strangely nostalgic. The boy felt his stomach growl like a caged beast starved for days seeing the bowl of fruits sitting atop the wooden table; truthfully a part of him was somewhat afraid he would eat the table if he went any longer without food that wasn't raw fruits or poorly cooked meat. A part of him felt bad asking Donny for food right after he offered living quarters however, so he remained quiet about it despite feeling as though his stomach was eating itself.

The two entered the kitchen from the living room, filled to the brim with spices, bottled fruits and vegetables that August had zero knowledge of. It made a part of him pout somewhat, with the thought that any of these spices and ingredients could have made his savage meals even a small bit better. The absolutely stockpiled kitchen was rather small compared to the living room, and thus was quickly passed; the two exited the kitchen and entered the backyard, where a stone faced man with short brown hair and a thick beard rigorously chopped away at large slabs of wood. The man gave off a feeling that sent August's instincts haywire, to the point where he damn near unsheathed his blade in defense. He felt dangerous, even more so than the bandits, but felt ultimately different compared to them. Unlike them, the stone faced man didn't have that same wildness they had, in fact, he was rather reserved in demeanor. That fact alone was enough to calm, but not quell August's caution.

The stone faced man turned and actually met August's gaze first, much to their surprise. Though he knew the man wasn't out to hurt him, he couldn't help to tense up after feeling his cold gaze. His shadow ability urged him to strike first, but he calmed it down rather quickly.

"Dominic, who is this?" The man's gaze never left August as he questioned Donny.

"Dad, this is August. He was lost in the woods up till now." Donny responded. Because his senses weren't as sharp as August, or maybe it was because he was simply accustomed to his father by then, the youth couldn't feel the same unease the boy felt.

"The woods, hm?" Donny's father pondered, "What was a child like you doing in there?"

"Searching." August wearily responded, "For a place named Jericho City. Do you know of it?"

Donny's father shook his head, "Never heard of it."

August knew deep down that there was a very likely chance he wouldn't find anything on Jericho City from such a small village, even then, hearing the confusion in the stone faced man's voice saddened him somewhat. If his worst fears came true and the Jericho City he knew no longer existed, his only leads would crumble along with his hope, hope that he could discover the reason behind the sudden attack on the Janus castle, as well as the purpose behind the kings' lingering wills and the mysterious room he lay imprisoned in for so long.

"What kingdom is this? Do you know of the Kingdom of Janus?" He asked with a tinge of eagerness.

"Ailon Village is native to the Kingdom of Cetus. As for your second question, the only kingdom of Janus I can recall is the one that fell 300 odd years ago. Cetus, being its ally long ago, was the one that forced back the Ganesha Empire that caused its fall, and claimed its land." Donny's father answered. "Now it's my turn to ask: how did you end up lost in the woods? Where did you come from? You should know as well as I that most kids your age wouldn't last a week in its depths."

"Dad…!" Donny could tell by his father's tone that he was highly suspicious of August, though neither could really blame him for doing so. The boy himself knew he came off as rather sketchy, but he didn't care as long as he learned what he needed to.

"I woke up one day, surrounded by nothing but ruins. The only thing I knew was that my parents were long gone, and so was my home." August solemnly answered, "I searched tirelessly for other people to gain my bearings, though… my first encounter didn't end all too well."

Donny's father scrutinized August without mercy, fishing for the slightest hint of hesitation or lies. Yet, no matter how hard he searched, nothing concrete caught the bait. It was clear that the boy had omitted a few facts from his explanation, but nothing he said felt false or faked by any means. More than that, the exhaustion that plagued his face, the wear and tear of practically everything he carried, and the countless nicks and scars across his small body were all genuine. The wraps poorly tied across his hands were caked in dirt and dried blood, his unkempt hair could very likely reach his feet if the lone strand of vines weren't pushing it's very limits holding it together, and his clothes-- or for better words pants-- looked as if a single strong wind could render them useless in moments. This child was a bonafide survivor, the stone faced man couldn't take that title away from him.

"Alright." He sighed, "Sorry for questioning you like that, it's somewhat jarring seeing a kid around the age of my youngest so battle-worn… how old are you anyway?"

August froze somewhat hearing Donny's father's question, as he didn't know the answer all too well himself. He had spent so long in that large room fighting the kings' wills that he lost track of time. If the kingdom of Janus fell 300 or so years ago, then he was well over 300, but he couldn't just tell them that. His contemplation brought him back, long ago, to the last memory he could remember involving his age.

"I'm… 11 years old." He answered.