That morning, things seemed normal.

  Like always, Harlyn trudged along the narrow path, the worn-down tome and her fluffy teddy tucked safely in her arms.

  But something felt different for Harlyn.

  The gazes around her were no longer filled with quiet pity.

  They burned instead—

  with disgust.

  With hatred.

  Whispers followed her footsteps, low and sharp, like thorns brushing against her ears.

  “It’s Harlyn… keep your kids away from her.”

  “Meryl certainly had a bad influence on her child.”

  Harlyn heard them, but she didn’t understand.

  Her legs grew heavy.

  Her arms tightened around the teddy.

  Her eyes stayed fixed on the ground as the voices echoed over and over in her head.

  ***

  Just as the whispers thinned—

  just as the forest came into view—

  Relief bloomed in her chest.

  Harlyn broke into a run.

  Her face lit up like the sun breaking through clouds—

  Vroosh.

  A rock flew out from nowhere and struck her temple.

  Pain exploded through her head.

  Warm blood spilled down as she collapsed into the dirt, her book and teddy scattering from her grasp.

  Laughter rang out.

  “Ew!” a child sneered. “That’s Harlyn!”

  Nearby, three children pointed at her, their faces twisted with open contempt.

  “How disgusting,” one of them said. “Why is she even allowed out here?”

  The world spun. Sound dulled.

  Harlyn barely heard them.

  She didn’t care.

  She crawled forward, with every ounce of strength, she reached for her book.

  Just as her fingers nearly touched it—

  A foot kicked it away.

  Three boys stood over her, blocking out the sunlight.

  Their shadows swallowed her whole.

  One of them pressed a finger against her head, forcing it down into the dirt.

  “You’re filthy,” he said with a grin. “You don’t belong here.”

  “That’s right,” another chimed in. “Go crawl back to whatever filth you came from.”

  Harlyn clutched her head, trembling.

  She didn’t know what to do.

  Didn’t know what she had done wrong.

  Why…

  Why are you guys doing this…?

  Mom…

  Tears started running down on her cheeks.

  Seeing her stay still, the boys grew bolder. Hands shoved her—laughter followed.

  “Hey!”

  A sharp shout cut through the air.

  Seized the boys’ attention.

  Not far away stood another child.

  He looked young, about Harlyn’s age—

  His hair was as red as ruby; his presence exuded an air, that didn’t belong to this village at all.

  A deep crimson velvet coat draped over his shoulders, its collar trimmed in white feathers. Gold embroidery shimmered faintly along the fabric.

  Like a prince torn straight out from one of Harlyn’s stories.

  He walked toward them with confidence and stopped in front of Harlyn and the boys.

  “Bullying a helpless girl?” he asked calmly.

  Harlyn slowly lifted her head.

  So… this is what a prince looks like?

  He’s protecting me… but why?

  “Pathetic,” the young prince scoffed, his eyes sharp with disdain.

  “Three of you,” he continued, “and this is all you amount to?”

  The boy in the center—the leader—stepped forward.

  “And who do you think you are?”

  The prince puffed out his chest.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  “I am Leandrel, second son of the Kingdom of Talumnor.”

  He pointed at them.

  “And while I stand on this road, you will behave.”

  The two boys behind whispered nervously.

  “Do we get thrown into cells if we fight him?”

  “He’s from a kingdom…”

  As if unable to back down now,

  the leader snarled and lunged, grabbing Leandrel by the necklace.

  Leandrel’s eyes flashed.

  He drove a sharp kick into the boy’s stomach, sending him sprawling.

  The chain snapped free by force.

  Straightening his collar, Leandrel glared down at him.

  “That’s all you got?”

  Another boy rushed in from the side, screaming.

  Leandrel turned—

  In a blink, he drew the wooden sword from his belt.

  Clack.

  The strike landed cleanly. The boy crumpled, clutching his head with a cry.

  Vroosh.

  A rock flew straight at Leandrel.

  Clack.

  He knocked it aside with a single swing.

  The last boy froze, his hand trembling around the stone.

  Leandrel grinned.

  “Come on, then.”

  The boy yelped, dropped it, and ran.

  “Watch out!” Harlyn cried.

  Too late.

  The leader lunged from behind and bit down hard on Leandrel’s ear.

  “Playing dirty?!” Leandrel snarled.

  He slammed an elbow back into the boy’s face.

  The leader collapsed with a groan.

  Before he could move again, the wooden sword already hovered inches from his nose.

  “Run,” Leandrel said coldly. “Before I throw the three of you into cells.”

  Panic broke them.

  The boys scrambled away, crying for their mothers as they tripped over each other.

  Silence returned.

  Leandrel stood tall, red hair and cloak fluttering in the wind.

  Finally he turned, then offered Harlyn his hand.

  “Are you alright?”

  “I’m okay—”

  But Harlyn didn’t take it.

  She hurried to gather her things, brushing dirt carefully from her belongings.

  Leandrel’s gaze dropped upon the spellbook.

  “Magic?” he scoffed. “Why bother learning something so useless?”

  Harlyn stiffened.

  “It’s not useless!” she snapped, glaring up at him.

  Leandrel clicked his tongue and looked away.

  “Magic failed to protect…” he said,

  “It failed to protect someone important to me,”

  His eyes returned.

  “Just like how it failed to protect you.”

  Harlyn breath caught.

  “It’s not…” Her voice faltered.

  She lowered her head.

  Leandrel shrugged.

  “It’s not worth it, I hope one day you’ll realize that.”

  Just then a voice echoed from the distance.

  “Leandrel! Time to go!”

  A knight with dark steel covered from head to toe.

  He stood atop a hill, his presence heavy even from afar.

  “Coming!” Leandrel called.

  He looked back at Harlyn one last time.

  “I won’t waste my breath on this,” he said dismissively.

  “Good luck.”

  And just like that, he turned away.

  Harlyn stood frozen, clutching her book.

  Magic isn’t weak…

  Then why couldn’t I save my dad.

  A-am I weak…?

  A sudden flash of light shimmered at her feet.

  She looked down.

  A gold necklace lay in the dirt, its pendant carved into the image of a fierce, unsettling beast.

  She picked it up and looked toward the road.

  “Leandrel—!”

  He was already gone.

  Harlyn’s gaze fell stuck upon the necklace for a long while—

  She then clenched the necklace in her fist.

  I promise…

  I won’t be on the ground next time.

  ***

  Elsewhere in the village, beyond the main road and its watching eyes.

  A cluster of tents stood quietly together.

  Knights and workers moved in and out of the tents nonstop, their low voices swallowed by the canvas walls.

  At the edge of the encampment, a man—

  no, a king—knelt against the cold earth.

  A dark cloak pooled behind him. On his shoulder, the same beast-shaped symbol gleamed in gold.

  In his hand rested a wilting flower.

  He looked closely in silence—calm, stern, mourning—

  as though grieving, something he had failed to protect.

  A soft voice spoke behind him.

  “Your Majesty…”

  An elf girl stood there, pale robes flowing, a silver sacred symbol resting at her chest—the same cleric depicted in Harlyn’s spellbook.

  “From the regions we surveyed…”

  She paused for a brief moment.

  “This has occurred throughout the land of El-Glry.”

  The king did not turn.

  “We stop here,” he said.

  Rising slowly, he extended the flower to her.

  “Take this. Along with all the specimens.”

  “Bring them back to the kingdom.”

  The elf accepted it with a bow.

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”