After placing his empty plate on the table, he stood, stretching his arms overhead, feeling the familiar pull of muscles that had been honed by years of labor. He gave his mother a quick, reassuring smile before stepping out the door, feeling the cool air wrap around him like a breath of freedom.
The morning sunlight kissed his face as he stepped into the yard, the world outside waking up with him. Birds flitted from tree to tree, and the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze was a comforting sound. But Darron had no time for lingering today.
His destination was just a short walk down the dirt road, where the carriage waited for him, its horses pawing at the ground impatiently. A layer of dust clung to the wooden wheels, but it was still a fine, sturdy carriage—one that had served the village well, despite the wear. Darron had been looking forward to this day for weeks. It wasn't often that the village received visitors of any importance, and today was no different.
He stepped up to the side of the carriage, the driver tipping his cap as Darron approached.
"Morning, Master Vornar," the driver called out with a grin. "Ready for your ride?"
Darron nodded, his mind still half-fogged by his earlier musings but sharpening with every step he took toward the carriage. "Aye, let's get going."
As he climbed into the carriage, the warmth of the leather seat greeted him, the smell of hay and polished wood mixing with the fresh morning air. Darron settled in, adjusting his tunic as he looked out at the village one last time before the ride.
The horses began their slow trot as the wheels creaked and rolled along the road, the destination ahead still far but drawing closer with each passing minute.
Today was the big day. The one he had been waiting for.
Darron settled back in the carriage, watching the landscape blur past him in a rush of greens and browns. The rhythmic clop of the horses' hooves was oddly comforting, but beneath the familiar sound, a thread of tension wound through him. His mind kept returning to the meeting ahead—the Annual Family Gathering, when the scattered branches of his family would converge and make decisions that could alter the course of their futures.
It was always a grand affair, full of politics and old grudges, but this year felt heavier. The competition was always the same—trials of skill, wit, and endurance—tests that would determine who among the children would be the first to be awakened. The chosen one, the one marked by the family to receive their full resources, wealth, and influence. It was a moment of glory for some, a stepping stone to power, but to Darron, it had always felt like little more than a game—a game where he had never truly been a contender.
He'd long ago accepted that the competition was not his path. His cousins had been preparing for years, honing their skills, training with tutors and mentors. They were the obvious choices, the ones who had everything in place to win. And Darron? He had never really cared for it. Never wanted to play the game. His life had been lived in the shadows of their ambition, and he had long since stopped entertaining the idea that he might be the one to rise above them.
Awakened. The term sounded so important, so full of promise. But Darron had no illusions about it. It wasn't about skill—it was about who could play the game best. And that wasn't him. Not by a long shot.
His mother had been sent away to the village, away from the palace and the politics, to live a quiet life with him. That exile was a mark on her.
A reminder of where she stood in the family's eyes. But for all the quiet they'd found in the village, the blood in Darron's veins still carried the weight of his heritage. Today, that heritage would make its claim.
His cousins—stronger, faster, sharper—would be the ones everyone expected to win. They had the training, the history, the expectation. They had the family's favor. Darron didn't. He had no hope of winning. None at all. He didn't even want to.
Still, he couldn't help but wonder, in the deepest corners of his mind, whether this year would be different. But even as the thought crossed his mind, he brushed it away. No. It would never be him.
The Annual Family Gathering wasn't about him. It was about those who had already been chosen in the eyes of the family. Darron was simply the forgotten one, the one who would stand on the sidelines and watch as the others took their place at the center of the stage.