Morning sunlight spilled across Riverbend Village in warm, pale gold as Arcanis stepped out of the cottage. Mist drifted over the river like a thin, ghostly veil, the world feeling washed clean by dawn.
He inhaled deeply — wet earth, cool river air, and the faint scent of bread baking somewhere in the distance.
Merrin appeared behind him, stretching lightly.
"You're up early."
Arcanis gave a soft, almost secret smile.
"Couldn't sleep."
"Thinking about that mana you sensed last night?"
"Mm."
Merrin patted his shoulder.
"We'll figure it out."
Arcanis hummed — a soft, thoughtful sound — and headed toward the river.
---
Riverbend was already alive.
A woman waved cheerfully.
"Good morning, noble boy!"
A tiny girl poked her head out from behind her mother's skirt, cheeks still dusted with crumbs. Arcanis offered her a gentle smile.
Then—
He stopped.
A boy stood knee-deep in the river, helping an elderly man pull free a tangled fishing net.
Not just a boy.
The boy.
Arcanis didn't know why the sight froze him, but something inside him fell quiet all at once.
The boy had—
Black, curly hair, soft and wild, sticking to his temples where riverwater had touched
Sharp onyx eyes, deep and calm, eyes that seemed far too old for a teenager
Lean, wiry build, muscles shaped by daily labor rather than training halls
Pale skin, not unhealthy but underfed, softened by honest work
A presence like a sheathed blade — controlled, quiet, balanced
The old man beside him grumbled.
"It's stuck again, Sylas."
The boy — Sylas — laughed softly.
"I'll get it, Grandpa Tuven."
Arcanis watched Sylas dig his feet into the riverbed and pull the net free with a steady, practiced strength. Water splashed up. Sylas steadied the old man with a gentle hand.
A simple moment.
Human.
Unassuming.
Yet something in Arcanis's chest shifted — subtle and deep.
Merrin leaned close.
"Go on. Say hello."
Arcanis murmured back,
"I don't even know what to say."
"You're the Crown Prince," Merrin whispered. "You've faced captains; you can face a teenager."
"That's different," Arcanis muttered.
Merrin's quiet laugh said everything.
Sylas hauled the net to shore. When he turned, his gaze met Arcanis's.
Onyx eyes met pure, silver-white.
Sylas blinked once — surprised, but not intimidated.
No bow.
No fluster.
Just calm curiosity.
He stepped out of the river, droplets sliding down pale skin.
"Good morning," Sylas said, voice steady and warm.
"Did you need something?"
Arcanis felt… oddly awkward.
"No… I was just watching."
Sylas's lips lifted.
"Ah. Sorry if we were loud. Grandpa Tuven argues with the river more than he fishes from it."
"I do not!" Tuven barked.
"The river started it!"
Sylas laughed, light and natural.
Arcanis surprised himself by laughing too.
"It looked like you handled the river just fine."
Sylas rubbed his wrist sheepishly.
"Someone has to. If I leave him alone, he'll declare war on the water."
Tuven snorted.
"Boy, stop exposing me!"
Arcanis bowed gently.
"I didn't mean any offense."
"None taken," Tuven grunted.
"Just saying — you look like someone who's never hauled a net. Hands too clean."
Merrin almost choked on his laugh.
Arcanis raised a brow.
"That obvious?"
"Painfully," Tuven nodded.
Sylas rolled his eyes.
"Grandpa, please don't tease every stranger."
"It's fine," Arcanis said calmly.
Sylas stepped forward and extended a hand — not bowing, not calculating.
Just a boy greeting another boy.
"I'm Sylas."
Arcanis hesitated a heartbeat before taking the hand.
Warm.
Firm.
Steady in a way he couldn't explain.
"Arcanis," he replied quietly.
"Just Arcanis."
Sylas nodded, accepting the name without suspicion.
The four of them settled near the riverbank — Tuven already ranting about rebellious fish, Merrin answering politely, and Arcanis listening more than speaking.
Sylas occasionally glanced at Arcanis with a thoughtful look.
After a moment, he asked:
"You're traveling with only one attendant?"
Arcanis nodded.
"Yes."
Sylas hummed softly.
"Were you searching for something?"
Arcanis looked toward the forest.
"…Not sure yet."
Sylas studied him, silent but perceptive — not prying, just understanding.
"You look like someone carrying something heavy," Sylas murmured.
Arcanis stilled.
Sylas shrugged lightly.
"It's just a feeling. You seem… like you're trying to breathe."
The words struck something deep — something Arcanis didn't have language for.
"You're perceptive," Arcanis said quietly.
Sylas smiled — a small, warm curve.
"Or maybe you're easy to read."
Arcanis huffed a soft laugh.
"Should I be concerned?"
"Only if you're hiding something terrible," Sylas teased.
"You don't seem like you are."
Somewhere inside Arcanis, a tight knot loosened.
---
The sun climbed higher. Sylas shook water from his curls, droplets catching the light like small diamonds.
"I should help the others before noon," he said.
"If you're staying awhile… we'll meet again."
Arcanis nodded.
"I'd like that."
Sylas's smile deepened — soft, genuine, a little shy.
"Then… until later, Arcanis."
He lifted the net onto his shoulder and walked away with Tuven, the two resuming their bickering like a well-practiced duet.
Arcanis watched him go —
the curls bouncing,
the quiet strength,
the steady presence.
This boy is not normal.
Not in a loud or dramatic way.
But in a way that mattered.
Merrin stepped beside him.
"He seems like a good one."
Arcanis murmured,
"…There's something about him."
Merrin nodded slowly.
"I felt it too."
Arcanis didn't respond.
He simply watched Sylas disappear around the riverbend —
and for the first time since leaving the palace…
He felt fate turn its head toward him.