The swamp’s night sounds grew louder as darkness settled over Murkrest. The frogs croaked in low, steady tones, and the soft rustling of insects filled the air, creating a quiet backdrop for the gathering that was beginning in the village’s central clearing. Lanterns hung from the branches overhead, casting a warm glow across the familiar faces of the villagers gathered around the fire.
Agan sat cross-legged on the damp ground, watching as the rest of the group filtered in. Nara settled beside him, her gaze fixed on the fire as if lost in thought. Karu dropped down next to her, shaking mud from his hands, while Aska took a spot across from Agan, her expression calm and observant.
Garik sauntered over last, flashing a quick grin at Aska before leaning back on his elbows, his attention shifting to the old man seated near the fire’s edge. Elder Saka’s face was lined with age, his hair a shock of white that seemed to catch the firelight, but his eyes were sharp and bright. He cleared his throat, signaling the start of the story, and the crowd fell silent.
“Tonight,” Saka began, his voice raspy but strong, “we speak of a time when the swamp was young, and the lands beyond were not yet overrun by empires and conquest.”
A murmur of anticipation rippled through the crowd, and Agan leaned forward, his gaze locked on the elder. He’d always loved these storytelling nights, where the past felt close enough to touch.
“In those days,” Saka continued, “our people roamed freely, their paths guided by the spirits of the land. They knew the swamp like they knew their own kin, every root and every shadow. But even in those days, dangers lurked. There was a time when a beast, larger than any we know now, came to haunt the swamps. Its roar could shake the trees, its jaws could snap a man in half with a single bite.”
Karu’s eyes widened, and he let out a low whistle. “Bigger than a drake?”
“Bigger,” Saka said, nodding. “The beast struck fear into the hearts of even the most hardened warriors. But our ancestors, the first of the Hallowed Walkers, would not abandon the swamp. They faced that creature, many giving their lives to drive it from their lands. Through courage and sacrifice, they won peace.”
Agan glanced over at Nara, who was listening with her usual calm intensity, her eyes reflecting the firelight. He could tell she was as drawn in as he was, her attention unwavering.
Saka paused, looking around at the gathered faces, his gaze lingering on the younger villagers. “Our people have always held strong against those who would take from us. That beast was only the first. The swamp is our home, but it’s also our challenge. To survive here, we must be as fierce as those who came before us.”
The fire crackled, and a few of the younger children shifted, their expressions a mix of awe and fear. Agan could feel the weight of the story, the way it connected him to the generations before him, and he sensed a similar feeling in the others around him.
When Saka fell silent, the villagers began talking in low voices, some exchanging glances, others simply staring into the fire. Agan felt a surge of pride in his heritage and glanced over at Garik, wondering if he felt it too.
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Garik, however, seemed distracted, his gaze shifting toward Aska, who was staring into the fire with a faint smile. Agan couldn’t help but smirk as Garik leaned closer, his voice pitched just loud enough to reach her.
“So, Aska,” he said, attempting a casual tone, “do you think you could take on a swamp beast?”
Aska raised an eyebrow, her expression unimpressed. “Why? Are you planning to run if it shows up?”
Nara chuckled, and Karu snickered, clapping Garik on the back. “Better watch yourself, Garik,” Karu said. “Seems Aska might leave you in the mud if something that big actually turned up.”
Garik’s cheeks flushed, but he quickly masked it with a shrug. “Hey, I’d be too busy saving the rest of you,” he retorted, giving Aska a sidelong glance. “Including you.”
Aska just rolled her eyes, but Agan caught the faint smile she tried to hide. She and Garik often traded barbs, but there was a familiarity to it, something that made it hard to tell if they were serious or just having fun. Either way, it amused Agan to watch Garik’s attempts.
When the group broke apart, Agan found himself wandering over to his mother, who had stayed near the back, her face softened in the fire’s glow. Tana met his gaze, a small smile crossing her lips as she beckoned him closer.
“Elder Saka’s stories always light a fire in you, don’t they?” she murmured, her tone affectionate.
Agan nodded, glancing back at the fire. “It makes me wish I could have seen it myself. Fought like they did.”
Tana’s smile faded, replaced by a thoughtful look. “You’ll have your own battles, Agan. Every generation does. But remember, those stories are there to remind us that courage isn’t always loud or obvious. Sometimes, it’s the quiet choices that mean the most.”
Agan absorbed her words, feeling their weight even if he couldn’t fully grasp their meaning yet. She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze before stepping back, and Agan returned to the others, his mind still buzzing with the energy from the night.
As he approached, he found Garik in the middle of an animated conversation with Aska, Nara, and Karu. They were discussing their favorite parts of Saka’s tale, each trying to one-up the others with their ideas of how they’d handle such a beast.
“If I were there,” Karu said, grinning, “I’d have used a spear tipped with swamp venom. One stab, and that thing would have dropped right there!”
Aska smirked. “Please. You’d probably fall right into its mouth before you got close.”
“Maybe,” Karu admitted, unbothered. “But I’d be the one with the most fun going out.”
Garik rolled his eyes, his gaze landing on Aska. “And you, Aska? Think you’d do any better?”
She raised an eyebrow, leaning back with a faint smile. “I wouldn’t need to face it. I’d find a way to lead it into a bog. No blood, no risk, just patience.”
Garik let out a low whistle, nodding. “Guess that’s why I’d take you along if something like that showed up.”
Agan noticed the way Garik’s gaze lingered on her, but Aska only gave him a knowing smirk before nudging him with her elbow. “If I go, it’s only because I wouldn’t trust you not to wander off.”
They all laughed, and Agan felt a lightness settle over the group, a sense of camaraderie that had been building through their training, their shared stories, and the challenges they’d already faced together. For the first time, he realized he didn’t feel the need to compete with Garik or to prove himself. Here, in this moment, they were equals, bound by the same stories and the same hopes.
The fire burned low, and the villagers began to drift away, each returning to their huts in the dim light. Agan felt a sense of contentment settle over him as he made his way back, his steps slow and measured.
As he walked, he caught a glimpse of Garik and Aska talking in low voices, the usual banter in their tone softened by the quiet of the night. Agan smirked, shaking his head as he left them behind, his mind already on the next day’s training.