Echoes of the Seed

The forest was alive with the whispers of nature. Sunlight filtered through the dense canopy above, casting golden patterns on the moss-covered ground. The air carried the earthy scent of damp soil and the faint sweetness of wildflowers. Reed perched on a sturdy oak branch, its rough bark pressing into his palms as he leaned forward to watch the sparring match below. In his lap rested a crumpled scrap of parchment, its edges smudged with dirt. He scribbled quickly with a battered pencil, glancing up now and then to observe the fighters.

Above him, his sister Jade lounged against the trunk, her long legs dangling carelessly over the branch. Her dark blue hair, the same shade as Reed's, was tied back in a loose braid that swayed gently in the breeze. She wore a simple tunic, its fabric softened from countless washes, and her hands bore the faint calluses of someone who spent hours carving wood. A stray leaf clung to her sleeve, and she brushed it away with a lazy flick of her wrist.

"What do you think of his technique, Reed?" she asked, her voice tinged with amusement.

Reed paused mid-sentence, his pencil hovering over the paper. He glanced at her briefly before returning to his notes. "It's not very powerful," he murmured. "But it's efficient. His movements are precise, and the style suits his smaller frame."

Jade smirked, crossing her arms. "Since when did you care about swordsmanship?"

Reed shrugged, closing his notebook for a moment. "I don't know. Maybe it's a new interest."

Jade crouched on her branch, leaning closer. Her teasing tone softened, replaced by genuine concern. "Reed, I'm your sister. I know you better than anyone. You've always dreamed of becoming a scholar, not a fighter. You're not cut out for swinging swords around."

Her words hung in the air like a challenge. Reed didn't reply immediately. He simply stared at the sparring match below, his hands tightening around his notebook. Jade tilted her head, studying him, then sighed and pressed on.

"Why don't you ask Dad to teach you? He's a hunter. If you're so interested in fighting, he'd be happy to train you."

Reed's grip slackened, and he looked down at his feet. His voice was barely audible. "It's fine. I don't want to bother him. I'm not trying to fight. I just want to understand it."

Jade frowned but didn't push. Instead, she patted his shoulder lightly. "Don't be silly. You're not a burden, Reed. You should talk to him. Anyway, I need to get back and help Mom with dinner. You coming?"

"No," Reed replied softly. "Not yet."

Jade gave him one last searching look, then stood and stretched. "Suit yourself. Just don't stay out too long, okay?"

"Okay," he murmured.

And then he was alone.

***

The warmth of the makeshift fireplace filled the small room, its flickering light casting dancing shadows on the cracked walls. The family of four sat on the cold, uneven floor, their meal spread out on a wooden crate that doubled as a table. The air smelled of mutton stew, rich and savory, steaming in chipped bowls alongside chunks of crusty bread.

Reed's mother, her hands calloused from years of work, handed Jade a bowl with a smile. "I heard they finally found an artifact for Cassie!" she exclaimed, her voice bright with relief.

"What grade did she get?" asked Reed's father, already tearing into his bread. His broad shoulders and weathered hands spoke of a life spent hunting in the forest.

"A D-grade," his mother replied, shaking her head. "And it cost them 10 whole silver."

Reed's father let out a low whistle. "10 silver? For a D-grade artifact?" He shook his head in disbelief. "Haih. Being poor really is a sin." He glanced at Jade and Reed, his voice softening. "Thank the lord neither of you is marked."

Without warning, he pulled both children into a bear hug, his large arms wrapping around their shoulders.

"Dad! Ew!" Jade squealed, wriggling free. "You're so sweaty!" She scooted back, glaring playfully at him as she adjusted her tunic.

Reed chuckled, unable to hold back a smile at his sister's over-the-top disgust. His father grinned, his laughter rumbling deep and warm. Soon, their mother joined in, shaking her head at their antics as she stirred the stew.

The laughter swelled, filling the room with a rare and fleeting joy. For a moment, the weight of their struggles seemed lighter, the cold outside a distant memory.

But Reed's smile faltered as he looked around at their faces. His chest tightened. He clutched the bowl in his hands, willing himself to stay present, to savor this moment.

One last night.

He forced the thought away and let the laughter carry him, holding onto the warmth for as long as he could.

***

A loud yawn echoed through the small, cold room as Reed's father stretched and scratched his stubbled chin. His bleary eyes scanned the room before resting on his wife, who was folding a patchwork quilt.

"Where's Reed?" he asked, yawning again.

"He headed out early," she replied without looking up. "Probably writing those notes again."

"Notes?" His brows furrowed.

"Yeah, he's been studying swordsmanship," Jade piped up, sitting cross-legged by the fireplace, polishing a carving knife. "I think he's too shy to ask you to teach him."

Reed's father blinked, then grinned. "Well, that settles it. Let's surprise him with a wooden sword today. I've been meaning to teach him a thing or two—might as well start now. He's got the mind for it, even if he doesn't know it yet."

Jade's eyes lit up, her face breaking into an eager smile. "I'll find the best stick to carve!" She sprang to her feet, hugging her father briefly before rushing out the door.

Reed's mother smiled softly, her hands smoothing the quilt in her lap. "It's about time you two bonded over something other than books," she said. "I'll make tonight's stew special—something hearty to celebrate. Maybe I'll even add a pinch of thyme. Reed's always liked that."

Her husband chuckled, leaning back against the wall. "Thyme, huh? You're spoiling him. But I suppose it's not every day your boy decides to pick up a sword."

She shot him a playful look. "And it's not every day you decide to teach him. Don't think I haven't noticed how you've been waiting for this."

He shrugged, his grin widening. "Can't blame me. A father's got to pass on what he knows, right? Even if it takes a little nudging."

***

In the bustling market square, Reed stood in front of a street vendor's stall, staring at a small, chipped skinning knife. His fingers tightened around the eight copper coins in his palm.

"How much for this?" he asked, voice steady but soft.

"Ten copper," the vendor replied without looking up.

Reed frowned, glancing between the knife and his meager savings. "I only have eight."

The vendor scoffed, shaking his head. "Come back when you've got enough. What do you expect me to do?"

Before Reed could respond, a gentle voice interrupted.

"Here, take these."

Reed turned to see a girl holding two copper coins. Her golden hair shimmered like sunlight, and her warm smile revealed flawless teeth. Around her neck hung a pendant depicting a female knight holding a spiked mace—the crest of Mina Clan.

"Lady Cassie!" The vendor's demeanor shifted instantly. He straightened, voice respectful. "Please, take your money back. I'll give it to him for eight copper."

Snatching Reed's coins, the vendor shoved the knife into his hand. "Here, take it."

Reed quickly pocketed the knife, pulling up his hood to obscure his face. Before Cassie could say another word, he muttered a quick "thank you" and hurried away.

The vendor sighed and turned to Cassie, his tone oily. "Ignore him, Lady Cassie. Kids these days have no respect." He caught himself, eyes widening. "But not you, of course. You're wise and mature beyond your years!"

Cassie frowned, her gaze lingering on the boy disappearing into the crowd.

***

Reed made his way to a secluded cave hidden deep in the forest. Inside, scraps of paper littered the ground, alongside dark scorch marks—a sign of past fires.

He crouched near a crack in the wall, pulling away twigs and leaves stuffed into the crevice. Reaching into the gap, he retrieved a small, worn bag. Unzipping it, he carefully added the knife to its contents: a few notes, a handful of odd tools, and a piece of cloth.

Satisfied, he tucked the bag back into its hiding spot, refilling the crack with leaves and twigs before turning to grab a scrap of paper and a pencil from the ground.

***

Meanwhile, Jade returned home, a long, straight stick clutched in her hand. She plopped herself onto the floor, grabbed her carving knife, and began whittling away with careful precision.

For hours, she worked tirelessly, smoothing edges and shaping the wood into a makeshift sword. When it was finally done, she held it up, admiring her handiwork. With a small grin, she etched the name "Reed" into the handle before tucking the sword beneath a pile of hay in the corner of the house.

***

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Reed returned home, greeted by the warm glow of the fireplace. His mother handed him a blanket, while Jade glanced up from stirring the stew.

"Back so early?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Reed nodded. "Not that hungry today. You can cook a little less for me."

Dinner was a modest affair: crusty bread and a pot of mutton stew. The three of them sat around the wooden crate, waiting for their father's return.

"He's late today," Jade muttered, tapping her fingers impatiently.

A familiar shuffle of boots outside the door caught their attention. The door creaked open, and their father stepped in, shaking snow from his shoulders.

"Sorry I'm late," he said with a grin, rubbing his hands together. "The snow came out of nowhere, and I'm freezing."

After warming himself by the fire, he joined the table, clapping a hand on Reed's back. "Let's eat! I'm starving."

The family passed the bread and stew around, laughing as their father made exaggerated complaints about the cold. As the laughter died down, Jade caught her father's eye, her excitement barely contained.

She gave him a small nod, signaling she was ready.

Reed's father smiled and placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "So," he said, his voice calm but deliberate. "I hear you've been interested in learning swo...."

The whole room froze.

Reed felt it first—a warm, humid gust brushing against the nape of his neck. His body stiffened, every instinct screaming at him to run, but his legs wouldn't move. Slowly, as if compelled by some unseen force, he turned his head.

Hovering just inches behind him was a creature unlike anything he had ever seen. Its single, massive eye—easily the size of a wrecking ball—stared at him with an unblinking intensity. Veins pulsed across its translucent surface, glowing faintly in the dim light.

Two impossibly long, scrawny arms extended toward him, their skeletal structure almost insect-like. Each arm ended in three elongated fingers, twitching ever so slightly, as if eager to grasp something.

The creature's mouth twisted into a grotesque smile, its jagged teeth uneven and spiked like shards of broken glass. Saliva dripped from its maw, sizzling faintly as it hit the wooden floor.

Then it spoke, its voice a guttural rasp that sent chills down Reed's spine. One word.

"Speak."