Kaelen was ten years old when he discovered his power, in the dead of winter eight years ago.
While his mother was out with the sheep, he had been thinking only of the biting cold, wishing for a fire, when the kindling in the stove suddenly burst into flame.
Before long, Kaelen learned he could do many other extraordinary things just by willing them to happen.
Lifting objects, starting fires, commanding the wind, even creating invisible walls…
“Mom, look at this! The firewood is flying!”
That evening, when his mother returned with the sheep and their dog, Kaelen had eagerly shown off his new abilities.
His mother didn't marvel at the sight, nor did she rejoice.
She simply caught the floating log, her expression a mixture of resignation and despair.
“Kaelen, promise me something,” she’d said, her voice low. “That you will never use this power carelessly. And you will never use it in front of anyone else.”
“Why?”
Kaelen had always been an obedient son, but he couldn’t help but question an order to suppress something so fascinating, so fun.
His mother gave him a cup of warm sheep’s milk and, for the first time, told him about the world that lay far below their hill.
“Down there,” she began, “there are people called nobles.”
According to her, nobles were descendants of the Verian deities, who had come to the world long ago to save humanity.
They were born with powerful magic inherited from their divine ancestors, and they ruled over humans as both masters and protectors.
Those whose bloodlines had mixed with ordinary humans over generations were called knights. They, too, were born with magic, but their weaker powers meant they were treated as little more than servants.
His mother explained that Kaelen had inherited a knight’s power from his father. If he ever went down the mountain, the cruel nobles would seize him and use him for their own ends.
“If the nobles are shepherds, like us, then the knights are the dogs they keep. Sometimes a shepherd might cherish his dog, treat it like family… but if a wolf comes, he’ll send the dog to die without a second thought. If he needs the money, he’ll sell it.”
The nobles, she said, were never satisfied. They had everything, yet they fought constantly among themselves for more, and it was always their knights who were sacrificed in those struggles.
Just as a shepherd sends his dog to fight the wolves while he throws stones from a safe distance.
As she spoke, her face held a weariness so deep Kaelen had never seen it on her before.
“Kaelen, you want to live with me for a long, long time, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Then you must hide this power. If you don’t, the nobles will come and take you away. And we’ll never see each other again.”
“I understand! I’ll never, ever use it in front of others!”
It had been eight years since he’d made that solemn promise.
Even after his mother fell ill and died, Kaelen had kept his word, remaining on the slopes of Cygnus Hill and living as a simple shepherd.
He stayed to avoid the nobles who might one day come looking for him. To avoid becoming their sheepdog.
“Idiots.”
Kaelen frowned, shutting the door to his cottage.
A pack of village youths had come before sunrise, demanding to know what happened to Silas a few days ago.
Though the tracks and the state of the body made it clear a leopard Blight was responsible, they had tried to pin the blame on Kaelen, spinning some wild tale about him murdering the old man and feeding him to the beast.
It wasn't hard to guess their motives.
An old man had been killed while the strong young men of the village stayed safe at home.
They were trying to make him a scapegoat before they were branded cowards for letting an old man die on their watch.
Kaelen had, of course, given them the beating they were looking for and sent them packing.
Next time he went to the village to trade, they’d try to get their revenge, no doubt—cheating him on prices, tampering with his goods, using this incident as an excuse.
Then Kaelen would have to beat some sense into a few more of them until they agreed to a fair trade.
It was a tiresome cycle, one that had repeated itself several times already.
A sharp knock on the door jolted him from his thoughts.
Kaelen heaved a deep sigh and yanked the door open with a growl.
“Who the hell is it now? Are you looking to die?”
Surely they hadn't forgotten their lesson from moments ago. Or were they really that stupid?
But the man on his doorstep was no village youth.
He looked to be in his mid-to-late forties, his cloak caked with dust. He wore an awkward expression.
“Ah… excuse me, young man. I’m a traveler, and I was hoping I might impose on you for a moment. It seems I’ve come at a bad time.”
A traveler. In his eighteen years, Kaelen had never met one.
He couldn't imagine anyone having the leisure to journey to this forgotten corner of the hills, where there was absolutely nothing to see.
After a moment of stunned silence, Kaelen stepped aside to let him pass.
“No, not at all. Please, come in. I just had some… unpleasant visitors.”
The polite phrasing his mother had taught him for addressing elders felt strange on his tongue.
When was the last time he’d spoken like this?
It must have been long ago, before he learned that Silas and the rest of the village elders were all bastards.
“My thanks.”
If he truly wanted to keep his secret, chasing away a stranger would have been the sensible thing to do. But Kaelen let him in anyway.
For once, he wanted to have a conversation that wasn't dripping with hostility.
Besides, if the man meant him harm, Kaelen was confident he could handle it.
“Have you eaten?”
“Not yet.”
“Neither have I. Let’s eat together.”
Kaelen seated the traveler at his small table and brought out what he had: freshly squeezed sheep’s milk and cheese, porridge made from dried village grains, a chunk of rock salt, and strips of mutton jerky.
Treat a guest with the utmost hospitality, his mother had taught him, and they would never think to harm their host. It was a shield against the unknown.
“It’s a poor area. I don’t have much to offer.”
“What are you talking about? This is a feast! I’m grateful for it.”
It wasn’t just courtesy; the man ate as if he hadn't seen food in days.
And yet, for all his hunger, his manners were impeccable—nothing like the villagers. He didn’t speak with his mouth full, and he turned his head slightly when he drank.
The traveler, for his part, seemed impressed as well. He set down his cup of milk and offered Kaelen a compliment.
“You have good manners. Your parents must have taught you well.”
“My mother did.”
Sensing something in the omission of his father, the traveler hesitated before continuing.
“Is she in the village, then? From the look of the place, you live alone.”
He must have noticed the single set of bedding.
Kaelen nodded, his tone matter-of-fact.
“She passed away. An illness, a few years ago.”
A look of genuine dismay crossed the traveler's face. He made a sign over his chest with one hand and bowed his head.
It was a gesture Kaelen had never seen before.
“My condolences. To have raised such a fine young man, she is surely resting in the celestial palace of the gods.”
“I hope so.”
In the years just after he lost her, the mere thought of his mother would steal his appetite and leave him crying for the rest of the day.
Was this calm—the ability to speak of her with a level voice—a sign that he was finally an adult? Or had the passage of time simply worn her memory thin in his heart?
Shaking off the darkening mood, Kaelen forced a change of subject.
“So, what brings a traveler to such a remote place?”
“I was passing through a city nearby when I heard an old man seeking a wizard. Said his village had a leopard Blight problem. I’m a decent fighter, so I thought I’d come take a look and lend a hand.”
“By yourself?”
Kaelen stared. This man, who looked middle-aged but carried himself with the stiffness of someone far older, was going to hunt a Blight alone? And apparently unarmed?
Seeing Kaelen’s surprise, the traveler gave a sheepish smile.
“I’m a knight. I served the house of Valerius for sixty years. An ordinary Blight is well within my abilities.”
The word knight struck Kaelen like a physical blow. His eyes widened, and every muscle in his body went rigid.
A creature from his mother’s stories. A noble’s dog.
The tension held for a long moment before Kaelen slowly forced himself to relax. There was no hostility in the man’s gaze, only a friendly curiosity.
“What’s with that look?”
“It’s just… I’ve never seen a wizard before,” Kaelen said, recovering quickly. “Besides, you don’t look like you’ve worked for sixty years.”
“Wizards age more slowly than ordinary people, and live longer. I’m seventy-five this year. And I’m only a knight. They say the truly powerful nobles can live two or three hundred years.”
Hearing this, Kaelen studied the man—one of his own kind—with a new fascination.
On the surface, there was no difference between him and a normal person. He was well-built, perhaps, with a healthy complexion, but that was all. You couldn’t tell someone was a wizard just by looking.
That was a vital piece of information.
It meant Kaelen could stand in a crowded city and, as long as he didn’t use his magic, no one would ever know what he was.
Just knowing that felt like a chain loosening around his chest.
“Wizards really are amazing.”
“Amazing? Not at all,” the man chuckled. “I think people like you are the amazing ones. Living in a dangerous place like this, with Blight about, and without a drop of magic to defend yourselves? I couldn't imagine it.”
In truth, this was the first time a dangerous Blight had appeared in the area in Kaelen’s lifetime.
If it hadn't been, not even his remarkable mother could have survived here as a shepherd, let alone raise a child. Thinking of it now, the woman who had raised him on this desolate hill, without any power of her own, was the one truly worthy of praise.
“Come to think of it, we haven’t properly introduced ourselves. My name is Lorian. Formerly of Valerius, but… I suppose I shouldn’t use that anymore. Just Lorian, a wanderer. And you?”
“I’m Kaelen. The only shepherd on Cygnus Hill.”
“A fine name.”
“You said you ‘formerly’ served the house. You’re not with them anymore?”
“I ended my service a month ago. The house offered to see to my needs until I died of old age, but I wanted to spend my final years traveling. I’d been bound to one place since I was fifteen, after all.”
“Don’t other houses try to… acquire you?”
“Why would they? I’m no great hero with a long list of accomplishments, nor am I some promising youth. What use would they have for an old dog who’d just be another mouth to feed?”
Even as he called himself an old dog, his face held an undeniable pride and a quiet composure.
Kaelen had only ever heard that nobles were cruel predators and knights their emotionless hunting dogs. But Lorian seemed more relaxed and cheerful than any adult he had ever met.
After they finished the surprisingly pleasant meal, Lorian stood and placed a small silver coin on the table.
Engraved on it was the profile of a handsome man Kaelen didn’t recognize.
“It’s an Valerian silver coin. The purest you’ll find. It should be more than enough to cover the meal if you trade it in the village. Though prices seem awfully high around here.”
Lorian grumbled that the damned village would try to gouge the very people who came to help them. Given Kaelen’s own experience with the locals, he wasn't surprised.
He pocketed the coin and gave a polite bow.
“I hope your hunt goes smoothly.”
“Don’t say it like you’ll never see me again,” Lorian said with a grin. “I might be back for another meal!”