Chapter 248: Little orphan

The boy clung to Lira’s hand, trembling as she guided him gently out of the cage. His legs wobbled, unused to freedom, and he stumbled forward into her arms. Lira held him, wrapping him in quiet reassurance, letting him bury his tear-streaked face against her shoulder.

"See?" she whispered softly, brushing a hand over his tangled hair. "No more cage. You’re free now."

His breath hitched, but the sobs began to slow. Slowly, he dared to peek up at the others. Patricia crouched down, giving him a warm, toothy smile to soften her sharp dragonborn presence. Maelin waved gently, trying to appear harmless. Renkai, still in fox form, tilted his head with curious eyes, tail swishing lazily. Thalanir’s calm presence stood behind them all, a silent reassurance of safety.

But when the boy’s gaze landed on Serelyth, still tall and imposing in her humanoid form, he flinched and tried to hide again. Lira stroked his hair, whispering, "Don’t be afraid. She may look scary, but she’s our protector. She would never harm you."

Serelyth gave a faint, almost annoyed sigh but softened her expression slightly, her golden eyes glowing less fiercely. "Little one," she said, her voice surprisingly gentle, "no cage can hold you again, not while I live."

The boy blinked at her, uncertain, but her words seemed to reach him.

Lira smiled down at him. "Can you tell us your name?"

He hesitated, biting his lip. Finally, in a small, broken voice, he whispered, "...Eryndor."

The name carried softly through the ruined basement, fragile as a candle flame.

"Eryndor," Lira repeated gently, her tone wrapping the name in warmth. "That’s a strong name." She brushed her thumb over his hand. "And you’re strong too. You survived... and now, you don’t have to be alone."

Eryndor clutched Lira’s sleeve, his small voice quivering as he spoke.

"Creatures came... dark ones. They attacked the village. I heard screaming... people running." His eyes filled with tears again, but he forced himself to go on. "I was already in the cage. They put me there... because I... I played with the wind." He looked down, ashamed. "Just little tricks... the leaves would dance, or dust would swirl. I didn’t mean any harm."

His voice cracked as he pressed his forehead against Lira’s arm. "They said I was cursed. They said... I deserved to be locked away."

Lira’s chest tightened. She stroked his hair slowly. "You didn’t deserve that. Not ever."

He shook his head, eyes squeezed shut. "Then the smoke came. The roof... it broke. Stones fell, the whole house wanted to crush me. I called... I screamed for help." His words trembled into silence. "But nobody came."

The group exchanged heavy looks. Patricia muttered a curse under her breath, fists clenching. Thalanir’s jaw tightened, sorrow written across his usually calm face. Even Serelyth’s eyes darkened with quiet rage, golden fire flickering faintly within them.

Renkai padded closer, shifting just enough to speak in a low, steady tone. "But you’re here now, little one. And we found you."

Eryndor peeked up, his face blotchy from tears. He whispered, "...You came."

"Yes," Lira said firmly, lifting his chin so he would see the truth in her eyes. "We came. And we’ll keep coming back for you, no matter what happens. You’re not alone anymore."

They didn’t linger in the ruined village. With Eryndor trembling between them, they carefully guided him back through the forest until they reached their small camp. A fire was coaxed to life, its glow pushing away the chill of fear that still clung to the boy.

Lira knelt near the flames, whispering words onto a slip of parchment before tying it to the leg of a sleek, silver-feathered messenger bird. With a quiet spell, the bird launched into the night sky.

"Elion will know what to do," she murmured.

Not long after, the bird returned, landing gracefully on her shoulder. She untied the reply and read it quickly. Relief softened her face.

"They will take him," she said, meeting the boy’s wide eyes. "Elion has already arranged for a teacher at the Academy to watch over you. Someone who understands... someone who can help you."

Eryndor’s mouth opened slightly, uncertain whether to believe such luck. His voice was small. "The... Academy? For magic?"

"Yes," Lira smiled gently. "Where children like you belong."

The boy’s lips trembled, then curved into the first real smile they had seen from him.

Lira turned to Serelyth. "Would you... would you fly him there? He’s so small, and it will be faster, safer."

Serelyth tilted her head, a faint glimmer of amusement in her golden eyes. "Do you think he is ready for such a ride?"

But before Lira could answer, Eryndor gasped in delight. "You’re a dragon? A real dragon?!"

Serelyth’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. Then, with a shimmer of light, her form stretched and expanded, white scales unfurling, vast wings spreading to catch the moonlight. The transformation sent a powerful gust sweeping across the camp, making sparks leap from the fire.

Eryndor’s eyes widened, but instead of fear, joy erupted from him. He jumped up and down, clapping his hands, his laughter echoing through the trees.

"Dragon! A real dragon! Can I—can I touch—can I fly?!"

The group exchanged relieved glances. For the first time, the boy wasn’t trembling with fear, but with excitement.

Serelyth lowered her head with surprising gentleness. "Climb on, little one. Tonight, you shall ride the sky."

Eryndor scrambled onto Serelyth’s lowered neck, his small hands clutching at the smooth, white scales with awe. His face was bright, glowing with excitement instead of fear.

Serelyth turned her long, elegant head toward Lira. "I will return shortly," she said, her voice carrying both reassurance and command.

Lira nodded, her expression calm but tender. "We’ll continue on foot, deeper into the forest. Find us when you return — you know I’ll keep the fire burning."

The dragon’s golden eyes softened in understanding. She shifted her gaze to the boy. "Are you ready, little one?"

Eryndor bounced where he sat, his grin wide. "Ready! More than ready!"

A ripple of laughter ran through the group as Serelyth spread her mighty wings. With one powerful beat, wind surged across the clearing, lifting sparks from the fire and tossing everyone’s hair wildly.

"Goodbye!" the boy called, his voice high and thrilled.

"Safe journey!" Lira shouted back, her hand raised.

Then, with a graceful bound, Serelyth rose into the air. Her wings carried them higher and higher, the boy’s joyous laughter echoing down until it blended with the night wind. Slowly, the dragon and her small passenger vanished against the stars, heading toward the Academy’s distant lights.

The forest grew still again. Lira exhaled, turning back to the path ahead. "Come on," she said softly to the others. "We have our own road to follow."

The forest stretched endlessly, its canopy filtering the light into soft golden patches that danced on the mossy floor. Their steps crunched over fallen leaves, but the mood was light. After all the chaos of the goblins and the burned village, simple walking together felt like a gift.

Renkai often darted away, sometimes as a fox, sometimes on foot, always returning with a rabbit or bird slung over his shoulder. "We’ll eat well tonight," he boasted once, wiping his hands proudly.

Patricia wrinkled her nose. "You always look too smug after a hunt."

"Because I’m good at it," he shot back with a grin, flicking his tail as if to emphasize the point.

Fluffy padded happily beside Lira, occasionally brushing against her legs. Other times, the little creature would scramble into her bag, peeking its head out like a watchful guardian. During rests, it climbed into her lap, curling up and purring with soft, content sounds.

At one point, Thalanir shifted into his deer form, kneeling low. "Come, Fluffy," he said, as though offering a throne.

The tiny creature eagerly leapt up, but the moment its paws pressed into Thalanir’s fur, sparks of static shot through. Fluffy froze, fur puffing up comically in every direction.

Patricia burst out laughing first, clutching her stomach. "Oh gods, look at it! A walking dandelion!"

Even Maelin, usually calmer, covered her mouth to hide her giggles.

Thalanir flicked his ears back, clearly embarrassed. "It’s not my fault—my coat carries charge."

Fluffy squeaked indignantly, leaping back into Lira’s arms. She cuddled it close, soothing its ruffled pride. "Don’t worry, little one," she murmured, smiling gently. "Not every back makes a good resting place."

The laughter lingered long after, softening their weary journey. And beneath it all, Lira felt her heart warm—because in the middle of dangers and shadows, she had found herself surrounded by friends... and one fiercely loyal little companion.

That evening, they made camp in a clearing where the trees bent just enough to let the stars peer down. Renkai roasted the rabbit he’d caught, the smell drifting through the air and mixing with the resinous scent of pine. Patricia poked at the flames with a stick, humming softly, while Maelin leaned back against a log, braiding strands of grass absentmindedly.

Fluffy curled into Lira’s lap again, purring like a tiny heartbeat. She stroked its soft fur, her gaze lifting toward the starlit sky.

"You know," Patricia said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence, "I never thought I’d end up walking through forests with strangers who feel more like family than my own blood ever did."

Renkai smirked but his voice was softer than usual. "That’s because you never had me around before. I improve people’s lives."

A round of laughter circled the fire. Even Thalanir, usually watchful and reserved, allowed himself a small smile before his gaze shifted back toward the trees, listening.

Maelin plucked the finished braid of grass and tied it around her wrist. "Strange how fate gathers people. All of us from different paths, yet walking together now."

Lira felt the words sink deep. She pressed her palm to her chest, feeling the quiet hum of her own elements within. "Maybe fate knows we’re stronger together. Maybe it knows the world needs us like this."

The fire crackled, and for a while they sat in silence, warmed by both the flames and each other’s presence.

Then, just before sleep took them, Thalanir spoke quietly, his eyes still fixed on the forest shadows. "The land stirs with unease. We’ve not seen the last of danger."

Lira met his gaze, steady but calm. "Then we’ll face it together."

Around the fire, heads nodded in quiet agreement, and the forest seemed to exhale, as if acknowledging the pact.