He woke with a strangled cry, ripped from his hay bed by the familiar terror of his recurring dream. Cold sweat drenched his skin, and his eyes, normally as black as a moonless night, burned with an unnatural brown glow. For three years, the dream had plagued him, a vision of a monstrous red entity coiling around the sun, constricting it like a serpent with its prey. He always saw himself floating in the vast darkness of space, drawn inexorably closer to the sun, to it. The creature was gargantuan, defying description, and as he neared its slumbering head, a single thought echoed in his mind: "You are no god, Sun-Serpent; you are nothing but a monster!" Panic always seized him at the sight of its head, the terror of being seen by it jolting him awake.
He rose from the makeshift bed, his small stable filled with the pungent aroma of goat and sheep droppings. Ten square feet of hay and mud bricks, attached to the humble hut he shared with his aging parents. Their meager herd – two goats and a scrawny sheep – represented their entire fortune, and he slept beside them, their ever-vigilant guardian. Landless and forbidden from farming the surrounding fields, they lived a life of constant struggle.
Stepping out into the chilly autumn morning, he removed his sweat-soaked beige shirt and walked towards the small lake near their home. The sun's first rays kissed his bare skin, revealing a lean, sculpted physique honed by hardship. He waded knee-deep into the cool, clear water, his reflection staring back at him with haunting brown eyes.
"Still afraid, huh?" he muttered, a shiver running through him, whether from fear or the cold, he did not know.
The memory of his eyes' true blackness surfaced a stark contrast to his sun-kissed skin. Years of toil under the open sky had done little to darken his complexion, a peculiarity no one remarked upon, unlike his ever-changing eyes. He splashed water onto his face, wiping away the sweat and pushing back his long, black hair, a mixture of curls and straight strands.
As the sun ascended, he turned towards the horizon, towards the Sun-Serpent, the colossal serpent-like creature visible to all, worshipped as a deity across the land. A chill snaked down his spine, and he retreated into the hut.
His mother's soft humming greeted him, a melancholic tune that spoke of hardship and resilience. She sat on the bare floor; a small bowl containing softened bread and goat milk her offering for his single daily meal.
"Cael," she greeted him warmly, her dark eyes filled with concern. "Good morning, my boy. Eat this."
He settled beside her, his gaze meeting hers, his eyes shifting to blue. "Good morning, Mother. But what about you? What will you eat?"
"Don't worry, my boy. You have a long day ahead. Your father and I will manage."
He looked at her, his small, frail mother, her brown skin etched with wrinkles. "It's been a harsh summer, Mother. The drought… we've lost five goats already, and fodder is scarce. We won't last much longer."
"I know what you're going to say, and I don't like it," she replied, her gaze fixed on the distance.
"I know, but I need to hunt with Ronan again."
"I don't like him either," she muttered.
"It's our best chance to survive the winter. We have nothing left to eat, not even dry bread. If I go, I can bring back food, pelts to sell… we might make it. We might even have meat to eat." His voice rose with a sliver of hope, his eyes turning yellow.
"And the herd? What becomes of them when you leave?"
Shame washed over him, his eyes turning indigo. "I hate to ask, but could Father watch them while I'm gone?"
"Your father is old and stubborn," she sighed. "I don't think he can manage anymore."
"Nonsense!" a voice boomed from the back room. His father, the old shepherd who had taken him in as a lost and starving child, emerged from his hay bed. "Who do you take me for, woman? I'm still the best shepherd around!"
Cael owed his life to his father. Found wandering near Oakhaven, his memories lost, his clothes tattered; he had been a young boy with nothing but those striking black eyes that had captivated the old shepherd. Recognizing him as one of the Unclaimed – children of unknown origin who appeared sporadically throughout the land – the old man had taken him in, raising him as his own. He had seen a spark in Cael, a love for life that resonated with his own.
His father approached, his thin frame and leathery skin belying a stubborn strength. His mother's glare did little to deter him. Cael grinned, knowing his father would face her wrath later.
"Go on, my boy," his father said, ignoring his wife's silent fury. "You're right, times are hard. I wish I could do more, but this will give us some breathing room. Go, and bring home some game."
Cael lowered his gaze, shame burning in his chest. "I'll catch plenty, I promise. And when I return, we'll have a feast."
"That's what I like to hear," his father beamed.
His mother sighed, "The men in this house never listen to me… I'll get your bow and arrows ready. Finish your meal."
As he waited, his mind drifted to Ronan's proposition. The infamous Ronan Caine, nicknamed the Beast for his unparalleled hunting skills and instincts. A skilled hunter, but also a notorious thief and swindler, heir to the Caine family, one of the five founding families of Oakhaven. Ronan had taken a liking to Cael, drawing him into his schemes despite the boy's initial reluctance. He had taught him to fight, to hunt, to survive. Yet, a year ago, Cael had severed ties, unwilling to participate in Ronan's exploits any longer. Until now.
The sun, and the Sun-Serpent coiled around it, beat down on him as he walked towards Oakhaven. He preferred cloudy days, days when the monstrous entity remained hidden from view.
Reaching the town after a two-hour trek, he headed for the Bare Stag pub, their designated meeting point. The townsfolk stared at him with disdain, their gazes reflecting their dislike for the Unclaimed boy with the shifting eyes. He ignored them, his eyes turning violet under his dark glasses.
Ronan sat surrounded by his clansmen, his shaved head and imposing stature drawing attention. His handsome features and muscular build further accentuated his presence.
"I see the Beast still lives," Cael called out, his voice laced with amusement. "And here I thought he'd been hunted down."
Ronan turned, his expression darkening. "The Beast is thirsty and tired of this swill. Perhaps your blood will quench it."
"Would the Beast drink a friend's blood?" Cael chuckled.
Recognition dawned on Ronan's face, and a wide grin spread across his lips. He rushed towards Cael, pulling him into a tight embrace.
"Damn, man! It's good to see you!"
The pub fell silent, the patrons surprised by the Beast's display of affection.
"Barkeep! The finest ale for my friend!"
"Hold that," Cael interjected. "I don't drink, remember?"
"Nonsense! You're my guest. Drink up."
"I'll eat something instead," Cael countered, his eyes turning orange.
"Barkeep, bring my friend the best food you have."
Ronan leaned in, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "So, I take it you accept my proposal, my weak-willed friend?"
"I came to hunt," Cael replied, his eyes returning to their natural black.
"Hunt it is then," Ronan chuckled. "Perhaps girls first, prey later?"
"You know I don't do that," Cael said, his eyes flashing red.
"No girls, then. Prey it is." Ronan's laughter filled the air. He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "A strange group arrived a few days ago. Led by an old scholar from Meridium."
"Strange how?" Cael's eyes turned yellow with curiosity.
"The scholar seemed normal, but the others… different. Skilled, and with a peculiar scent."
"I still don't understand."
"They're mercenaries, you idiot," Ronan sighed. "Thought I taught you better. I followed them, overheard them talking about treasure."
"Treasure? Here in Oakhaven?" Cael's eyes widened.
"They're heading for the Grey Mountains tomorrow, to the Sovereign's Rest. That's where the treasure's supposedly buried."
"The Sovereign's Rest? But that's in the forbidden lands! The curse lay… no one goes there." Fear tinged his voice, his eyes turning brown.
"I lied. It's safe. I've been there." Ronan's words were quick, his eyes gleaming with avarice.
Cael recognized the familiar glint of greed in his friend's eyes, the insatiable desire for more.
"I'm going after them. That treasure is on our land; it belongs to us."
"You're just bored," Cael said, his voice flat.
"I was going to do it alone," Ronan's expression hardened, "but I trust you. This could change everything. Imagine what your folks could do with your share!"
"Don't use them against me," Cael warned, his eyes turning red.
"Sorry, I want to improve your lives," Ronan said sarcastically. "Finish your food and think about it. A full belly might clear your head."
Cael recalled his father's words: "A full belly sways the heart, not the mind." He met Ronan's gaze, his eyes turning violet. "Wise words from a herd boy."
Ronan smirked, downing his ale. "Indeed." He rose to leave.
Cael hesitated. He felt like a fragile piece of glass, slowly cracking under the weight of their poverty. But today was different. Today, he would not break.
"Wait!" he called out, his voice firm.
Ronan paused, an eyebrow raised in question.
"I'm in," Cael said, his eyes turning indigo. "What's the plan?"
Ronan grinned and sat back down. "The scholar is staying at Master Elian's. Go there, see what you can learn."
Cael nodded.
"Then meet me at the eastern town entrance. I'll fill you in on the rest."
With a final bite of food, Cael set out for Master Elian's, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He knocked on the door, calling out the old scholar's name. It was not Elian who answered, but another old man in scholar's robes. Cael's eyes turned yellow, his mind scrambling for a way to extract the information he needed.
"Good day," he began, "I'm looking for Master Elian. Is he home?"
"Good day to you," the scholar replied with a warm smile. "Come in, he's inside."
Cael followed the old man, his eyes scanning the room, taking in the bookshelves and scrolls. The scholar, with his short white beard, kind eyes, and stooped posture, seemed an unlikely companion for mercenaries. How could he get him to talk?
"May I ask your name?" the old man inquired.
"Cael. I'm a friend of Master Elian's," he replied. "And you are?"
"Oh, how rude of me! Theron Vex, at your service. I was once Elian's teacher back in Meridium. He was a brilliant student, though his ideas were a bit too radical for our old-fashioned community."
Master Elian emerged from his library, a smile lighting up his face. "Cael, my boy! It's been too long."
"Master Elian," Cael's eyes turned blue with genuine affection. "It's good to see you."
"Indeed, it is. You've grown so much!"
"Just glad you're still above ground," Cael joked.
Elian chuckled. "Nonsense! I don't look a day over forty. And I see you've developed a sense of humor."
"So, what brings you here today?" Master Elian asked.
"I came looking for Ronan. I want to go hunting."
"I see. And tell me, how are your eyes, my boy?"
"No change. And I still have that dream… every single day for the past three years." His eyes turned red at the memory.
"I see," Elian said gently. "You must bear with it, my boy."
Cael knew no one could understand. They saw the Sun-Serpent every day, but they could not comprehend its true immensity, the horror of facing it up close. He had long since given up trying to explain.
"What dream?" Theron interjected, his curiosity piqued. "It sounds intriguing!"
"Peculiar, to say the least," Elian replied. "Cael, this is Grandmaster Theron. He's a historian, one of the twelve Grandmasters of Meridium, a true scholar."
Cael turned to Theron, his eyes skeptical. "Is he really that great? He doesn't look the part."
Theron laughed. "You flatter me too much, Master Elian. Even the young ones aren't impressed." He settled into a chair, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
"Nonsense, my young friend. His brilliance is unmatched. A true scholar, unlike any you'll ever meet."
"If he's so great, why is he in this backwater town? A glorious man wouldn't come to Oakhaven just to visit an old friend, would he?" Cael challenged.
Theron's laughter subsided, but his smile remained. "Well, your old friend exaggerates. But it's true, I am one of the Grandmasters of Meridium, and I didn't come here just for a social call. You'd be surprised what one can find in the outskirts of so-called 'backwater' lands. I'm here seeking something." Anticipation filled his voice.
"What would bring a man like you here?" Cael pressed, his eyes turning yellow.
"My reasons are rather dull. What interests me more is why you wear those dark glasses, and this dream you mentioned. Tell me more."
Cael sensed the old man's attempt to deflect, but he saw an opportunity. "You're Master Elian's teacher, so I assume you're trustworthy. Tell me what you seek, and I'll tell you about my dream."
"I see you're a curious one," Theron chuckled, a glint of interest in his eyes. "I accept your proposal, young man. We'll exchange stories."
Cael glanced at Master Elian, who gave him a subtle nod of approval. He removed his glasses, his eyes glowing orange, and began to recount the events of that fateful day…