Orin Alpheratz (15 years old) Location: Solaris Date: Year 873 / Crow Cycle (3) / Bard's Day (9)

  Orin woke up suddenly in the middle of the night. He didn’t know how long he’d been asleep, nor how much time was left until dawn.

  He found himself lying in a small clearing surrounded by trees, dimly lit by the faint glow of an improvised clay stove that Gina had crafted earlier. The fire was long dead, leaving behind only ashes and a faint warmth. Perhaps that was why the chill had begun to creep back into his body.

  Around him, the others slept soundly, their figures resting in quiet exhaustion. Beyond the circle of trees, only darkness stretched—deep and still. Yet Orin felt strangely at ease, knowing Felis was somewhere out there, standing guard, alert to any threat that might emerge from the night.

  He rose quietly, stretching his legs, when a faint sound reached his ears.

  It wasn’t the rustle of leaves or the call of an animal—no, it was something softer. A muffled sob.

  Curious, Orin followed the sound, stepping carefully between the trees. Each footfall crunched lightly on dry leaves and twigs, the air growing colder as he moved away from the dying warmth of the fire.

  After a short walk, he spotted a lone silhouette sitting beside a small stream, the silver gleam of water reflecting just enough to outline the figure.

  The person sat hunched over, shoulders trembling faintly. Orin couldn’t see the face clearly, but the quiet voice that broke the stillness told him everything.

  “Why can’t I be strong like the others...? Why am I the only one without talent...?”

  The words were barely a whisper, but Orin recognized the voice instantly.

  —Jin.

  With that certainty, he tried to step closer, but his boot pressed down on a dry branch, snapping it loudly. Jin stiffened at once.

  “Who’s there?” he called out, voice sharp with surprise.

  “It’s me, Orin,” he answered quickly. “Sorry, I just woke up... I heard something out here.”

  Jin turned toward him, hastily wiping at his face before standing. “Ah—sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you... or to let you see me like this.”

  “There’s nothing to apologize for,” Orin said softly, a little embarrassed himself. “I shouldn’t have intruded, but... are you okay?”

  Jin let out a small, unconvincing laugh, his tone returning to its usual, carefree lilt. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. Happens sometimes. I just... remember things I’d rather forget.”

  Orin stood there for a few seconds, unsure what to say or even how to move.

  “I… also carry regrets from my past,” he finally murmured. “Things I wish I could undo… things I’m still trying to make right.”

  Jin gave a faint, bitter laugh. “Maybe you’ll get that chance, Orin. You’re younger than me, yet you’ve already shown the strength to face danger head-on. Me? No matter how hard I tried to master the sword, I never got any better.”

  “Whatever’s weighing on you, we could help you,” Orin said gently.

  Jin turned his gaze toward the stream, his reflection breaking apart in the ripples. “I appreciate the thought, Orin. Tell me—have you ever heard of Arador?”

  “Arador?” Orin echoed. The name stirred a faint memory. “That’s the city near the edge of the Solaris Empire, right? There was a rebellion there a few years ago. The Duke and his whole family were killed… though my father told me the League of Knights managed to end the uprising before it spread.”

  “Exactly,” Jin said quietly. “The League played a big part in stopping it. You probably won’t believe me, but… back then, I was part of Arador’s army. A terrible soldier, honestly,” he added with a hollow chuckle. “My father was the opposite—strong, respected, trusted completely by the Duke. Because of that, I grew up dreaming of becoming a hero like him.”

  “But the Duke… from what I’ve heard, he and his family were—”

  “Assassinated,” Jin interrupted softly. “I knew them well. The Duke was a good man—too trusting for his own good. And his daughter…” He paused for a moment, his voice dropping to a whisper. “She was my first love. I thought if I worked hard enough, became strong enough, maybe I could one day stand beside her. But not every dream survives reality. In the end, how could someone like me ever become a hero?”

  Orin stayed silent. Despite Jin’s calm tone, he could feel the sorrow buried beneath his words. Their stories, though different, shared a quiet thread of pain and loss.

  “She too…?” Orin asked carefully.

  “Yes,” Jin said. “Her too. I couldn’t save her. No… I didn’t even try. I just stood there—frozen—while my father drove his sword through her heart.”

  Orin’s eyes widened. “Your father…? You mean—”

  “Yes,” Jin said bitterly. “My father led the rebellion. He slaughtered the Duke’s family… and was killed by the League of Knights for it.”

  “I’m sorry… I didn’t know,” Orin said quietly.

  “There’s nothing to apologize for,” Jin replied, shaking his head. “After that day, I understood how powerless I really was. So I left Arador behind. I swore I’d become the best adventurer in the world—someone strong enough to protect whoever I cared about next time. Or at least, that’s what I told myself.”

  “But you still can,” Orin said firmly. “Everyone has a strength that’s their own. Red-eyed bearers often awaken unique powers—maybe yours just hasn’t surfaced yet.”

  Jin smiled faintly, his tone softening. “Yeah, I’ve heard that too. Still, it’s clear swordsmanship isn’t for me. That’s why I’ve decided—I’ll go to Minoris. If I can master magic, maybe that’ll be my new beginning. A second chance for Jin, the adventurer.”

  Even though Orin couldn’t see his face clearly in the darkness, he could feel Jin smiling. Maybe Jin didn’t realize it himself, but that resolve, that willingness to keep going, was already a kind of strength.

  Orin wanted to tell him that… but before he could, a faint rustle echoed through the forest. Something, or someone, was moving among the trees. He immediately gripped his dagger, heart quickening. Jin stood beside him, tense and watchful.

  The moment a silhouette emerged from between the trees, Orin braced himself to strike—

  —but then a familiar voice broke the tension.

  “Easy there. It’s just me,” said Felis, stepping out of the shadows with his usual unbothered grin. “Felis, at your service. Looks like Altair and the others are reaching the North Gate. We should meet them before the soldiers notice their arrival.”

  “Is everyone all right?” Orin asked quickly.

  “Hard to say. I only spotted the wagons from afar,” Felis replied. “They should be here any minute. I’ll go on ahead. You wake the others. See you at the Gate.”

  Without waiting for an answer, he slipped back into the darkness—vanishing between the trees as silently as mist. For a moment, it was as if he had never been there at all.

  Jin exhaled, lowering his shoulders. “I see… looks like it’s already dawn,” he said, tilting his head to the paling sky.

  “You’re right,” Orin replied, watching as faint light began to spill through the canopy. “We should head back and wake the others.”

  “Yeah.” Jin stretched, then hesitated before adding with a faint smile, “By the way, about what I told you earlier… I’d appreciate it if you kept it between us. I’d rather no one start treating me differently.”

  Orin nodded silently. He had already planned to do just that, though after hearing Jin’s story, it was impossible not to see him in a different light.

  Once they were ready, both boys made their way back to camp. Aran and Gina were already awake, talking quietly near the cold remnants of the fire. When they noticed the two returning, Gina waved lightly.

  “Orin, couldn’t sleep?” she asked. “I don’t know how the others can sleep through this cold… though Aran’s been up since I woke.”

  Orin’s eyes drifted to Aran, standing a little apart, her expression unreadable. A strange silence surrounded her, and Orin couldn’t help but suspect she had overheard their earlier conversation.

  Before he could dwell on it, Jin’s voice rose behind him.

  “Come on, wake up already!” he said, shaking Sirius by the shoulders.

  “Mmm… five more minutes…” Sirius mumbled.

  “Hopeless,” Jin muttered.

  “Throw water on him,” suggested Cor, already on her feet.

  “With this cold?” Dan protested, rubbing his arms. “He’d turn into an icicle!”

  “Don’t worry—idiots don’t feel cold,” Cor shot back.

  “That must be why Jin looks fine,” Dan said dryly.

  “Hey! I heard that!” Jin barked, glaring while Sirius continued to snore.

  “Sirius!” Orin’s voice cut through the chatter, commanding and sharp. “It’s time to go.”

  That did it. Sirius bolted upright, rubbing his eyes. “Huh? Are the others here already?”

  “Yes,” Orin said. “We’re moving now. Everyone, pack up.”

  The group quickly cleaned the small clearing, brushing away footprints and scattering the ashes of the fire until no trace remained. Then, with the first light of morning filtering through the trees, they began their march toward the North Gate.

  The path wasn’t long. They crossed the edge of the forest, dew glistening on the leaves, and soon the stone arch of the gate came into view. Its shadow stretching across the road beneath the pale sunrise.

  There, parked beside the roadside, stood two wagons—the same ones Altair and the other students had taken the day before.

  As Orin drew closer to the road, an uneasy feeling crept over him. Something wasn’t right.

  The wagons—those same ones that had departed the day before—stood eerily still by the roadside. No students had disembarked. Their wooden frames, once sturdy and polished, now looked battered and broken, the wheels half-buried in the mud as if abandoned in haste.

  A cold knot formed in his chest. He quickened his pace.

  Before he could reach them, a familiar voice cut through the quiet morning air.

  “Orin… I thought we had an agreement,” Altair’s voice called out firmly. “What are you doing here?”

  He stepped out from behind one of the wagons, Felis walking beside him. The sight made Orin stop in his tracks—Altair’s usual composed expression was hardened, his armor scuffed and his face marked with shallow cuts.

  “Altair… what happened?” Orin asked, ignoring the question. “Is everyone all right?”

  Altair exhaled heavily, lowering his gaze for a moment before answering.

  “Everyone made it out alive,” he said gravely, “but the situation is worse than any of us imagined.”

  He looked toward the treeline, as though expecting movement at any moment.

  “There are patrol squads scattered across the entire region—forests, roads, even the outskirts of the nearby villages. The soldiers aren’t just hunting sorcerers within Solaris anymore. They’re expanding their reach.”

  Orin’s breath caught. He hadn’t expected the purge to spread this far.

  By then, the rest of the group had caught up, their expressions a mix of fatigue and concern. Aran stepped forward first.

  “I’m sorry, Captain,” she said quickly. “I couldn’t take Orin to Dhamarr. Circumstances changed.”

  Altair gave her a sharp but understanding glance. “So I’ve heard,” he said, his tone softening slightly. “Felis already briefed me on your situation.”

  He turned to the group—Orin, Aran, Jin, Cor, Sirius, Dan, and Gina—each one marked by exhaustion but standing resolute.

  “I understand some of you plan to head toward Minoris,” Altair continued. “If that’s true, you must leave now. Soldiers will be swarming this area soon.”

  Felis, leaning casually on one of the damaged wagons, nodded. “He’s right. We’ll buy you some time, but don’t waste it.”

  The tone in Altair’s voice shifted—calm but commanding. “We’ll hold off as many as we can. Go. Now.”