The river glowed before Norian , its aetheric light pulsing like a living heartbeat beneath the deepening dusk.
Xerion's forest thrummed with vitality—vines shimmering like starlight, moss pulsing faintly on the riverbank.
Norian knelt on the dark, loamy earth, his bare chest heaving from his escape, his spear planted beside him. The single pouch of aetheric water at his hip sloshed faintly, a lifeline in this unforgiving world.His skin itched with sweat and grime, a reminder of the bear's pursuit.
He needed to clean himself. Silently, he stripped off his tattered pants, leaving his pouch and spear on the bank, and waded into the shallows. The water's cool touch sent a shiver through his lean, muscled frame, its Aetheric glow casting faint reflections on his skin.
He scrubbed his arms, chest, and face, the river washing away the dirt and, for a moment, the weight of his fear.
'Clean, at least,'
He thought, his mind quiet as the river's gentle lapping.
'One less thing to drag me down.'
He stayed near the shore, wary of the river's depths. The forest's distant roars—echoes of the beasts he'd escaped—kept him cautious. After drying in the humid air, he pulled his pants back on, the fabric rough against his skin.
His hand brushed his stomach, where hunger gnawed like a blade. The glowing berries he'd eaten during his sprint were gone, and his body, forged by aetheric water, demanded fuel he couldn't provide.
Norian's eyes fixed on the river, its vast expanse a barrier to the answers he sought. The symbols etched into trees weeks ago—hints of natives, allies, or enemies—lay beyond this water. He had to cross.
'Swim,'
He thought, the idea forming with deceptive simplicity. He squared his shoulders, the thrill of outrunning death still simmering in his veins, and prepared to dive in.
Then it struck him, a cold, sharp truth.
'I can't swim.'
His knees buckled, the realization hitting like a blow. He stood frozen, his mind reeling.
'How did I forget? How could I be this stupid?'
He grabbed fistfuls of his hair, tugging hard, his breath ragged.
"Stupid, Norian. So fucking stupid!"
He shouted, the words bursting out in a surge of frustration, echoing across the river. His voice cracked, raw with the anger he turned inward.
The river's glow seemed to mock him, indifferent to the strength he'd clawed from Xerion's trials. In Veltharion, he'd been the cursed boy—weak, broken. Here, he'd thought he was more. But this? This was proof he was still lacking.
He paced the bank, forcing his breath to steady.
'Calm down. Think.'
The air was thick with the scent of glowing moss and aetheric water, grounding him.
'Two choices: build something to float, or learn to swim. No running from this one.'
Swimming felt impossible, a skill he'd never mastered. In Veltharion, a coach had tried to teach him in the pools, showing him how to kick and paddle.
But something happened—sickness, an accident, or maybe the man just vanished—and the lessons stopped, leaving Norian with only the basics. He'd never learned to swim properly, just splashed around like a fool.
Now, that failure loomed large, threatening to drown him in more than just water.He shook his head, refocusing.
'Build something. A raft, a log—anything.'
The resolve from his escape reignited, a stubborn ember in his chest.The forest glowed around him, its beauty laced with danger.
He slipped into the undergrowth, his bare feet silent on roots and glowing fungi. Every rustle set his pulse racing—the bear was gone, but Xerion was never safe.
He searched for hours, eyes scanning until he found a dead log, its bark rough but solid.
'This might work,'
He thought, testing its weight. It wasn't large, but for his lean frame, it could be enough. He dragged it free from a tangle of vines, grunting with effort.
The task left him panting, muscles burning, but he hoisted the log onto his shoulder and staggered back toward the river.The journey was grueling. The log dug into his shoulder, each step a battle against roots and glowing vines.
'Keep going,'
He urged himself, sweat stinging his eyes.
'You outran a bear. You're not that boy anymore.'
The forest's night hum seemed to challenge him, but he pressed on, driven by necessity.At the riverbank, he dropped the log with a thud, his chest heaving. The river's aetheric glow cast eerie shadows on the dark soil.
'Let's see if you float.'
He shoved the log into the shallows, gripping a small branch to keep it from drifting. It bobbed on the surface, buoyant enough to spark hope.
'Yes. This could work.'
He waded in, clutching the log and trying to maneuver it while keeping his feet on the riverbed. But as he leaned his weight onto it, the log dipped, water lapping over its surface.
'No, come on.'
He pushed harder, but the log rolled, too frail to hold him. He tried again, moving deeper, but the water grew too deep, and the log too weak. It wasn't enough.
"Damn it!"
He shouted, his voice raw with frustration, the outburst tearing through the quiet. He kicked the water, sending glowing droplets flying. The log was useless, and he had no tools—no axe, no knife—to carve something sturdier.
The river's glow taunted him, its beauty a cruel reminder of his failure.Norian slumped onto the bank, his hands trembling.
Hunger clawed at him, and the forest's night hum warned of predators.
'I can't stay here. But I can't cross.'
Learning to swim was his only option, but the thought twisted his gut. It would take time—time he didn't have, with dawn nearing and the forest's decay looming.
'I climbed trees. I outran death. I can learn this.'
He thought back to those Veltharion pools, the coach's patient voice fading into silence after whatever had taken him away. Norian had been left with scraps of knowledge—kick, breathe, move your arms.
'It's something,'
He told himself.
'It has to be enough.'
He set his pouch and spear aside, their weight a liability in the water. The river's edge was calm, its aetheric glow soothing despite his fear.
'Start small. Don't drown.'
The first attempts were clumsy—splashing, coughing, panicking when his feet left the riverbed. But he persisted, driven by dawn's approach. Hours passed, and slowly, he found a rhythm. His arms cut through the glowing water, his legs kicked with purpose. He could move a short distance, though the effort left him gasping.
'Not bad,'
He thought, clinging to the shore.
'Not great, but I'm not dead.'
The river was wide, his progress too slow. As dawn's first light crept over the horizon, the forest shifted. Vines dulled, moss faded, and the air grew heavy with decay.
'Time's up.'
Norian gathered his pouch and spear, scanning for a tree. He found one, its branches thick with wilting leaves, and checked for threats—no claws, no eyes. He climbed, his body aching, and settled on a high branch.
Dawn broke fully, and Xerion withered. The river's glow dimmed, the greenery decayed, and silence cloaked the landscape.
'Why does it change?'
Norian wondered, his thoughts quiet in the stillness.
'What makes this place die?'
Somewhere across the river, there had to be answers—natives who knew Xerion's secrets. He had to cross to find them.He shifted occasionally, easing cramped muscles, stretching to keep his blood moving.
Sleep was impossible, but he rested as best he could, eyes on the river's dull surface. The thrill of his escape lingered, tempered by this new challenge.
'I'll get across,'
He thought, a silent vow.
'I'll learn. I'll make it.'
The day dragged on, Norian perched in his tree, a lone figure in a decaying world, fueled by the resolve that had carried him through Xerion's trials.
The river waited, its secrets hidden, and Norian knew he'd face it—not as Veltharion's cursed boy, but as the man this forest was forging.
***
Three days had passed since Norian collapsed on the riverbank, his body electric with the thrill of outrunning death.
Each night, Xerion's forest blazed with bioluminescence—vines glowing like neon threads, moss pulsing with soft emerald light, trees shimmering as if dusted with stars.
The river, alive with aetheric radiance, was his crucible, its luminous waves both a challenge and a mentor.On that first night, Norian had found a rhythm—his arms cutting through the glowing water, legs kicking with growing confidence. He swam short distances, his strokes awkward but determined.
Each night after, he pushed harder, swimming through the bioluminescent haze, the forest's neon glow reflecting off the river's surface. When exhaustion dragged at him, he cupped the aetheric water in his hands, drinking deeply.
Its vibrant energy surged through him, banishing physical fatigue in a tingling rush, though his mind sagged under a relentless fog.
'Keep going,'
He thought, his breath steadying.
'You're getting stronger.'
And he was. Norian felt his stamina grow, his lungs holding breath longer, his strokes carrying him farther through the river's shimmering depths.
He'd swim until his muscles screamed, then drink and swim again, the cycle forging his body anew. During the day, he perched high in a tree, watching Xerion decay into a gray, rotting husk—its bioluminescence fading, vines dulling to brittle strands, the air thick with the sour stench of decay.
Hunger clawed at his gut, eased only by glowing berries and night-fruits plucked from low branches. Their tart juices burst on his tongue, vibrant but fleeting, never enough to silence his hunger or his racing thoughts.
Sleep was impossible. High in his tree, Norian couldn't risk drifting off—one slip, and he'd plummet. His eyes, heavy with exhaustion, tracked the riverbank below, where hulking monsters—shadowy beasts with glowing eyes—lumbered to drink at dawn and dusk.
'Don't move. Don't breathe,'
He thought, his heart pounding until they vanished into the undergrowth. He'd noticed something in those three days: no flying monsters cut through Xerion's neon-lit canopy, no reptilian claws scaled its trees.
'Maybe they're out there,'
He thought, unease prickling his skin.
'Haven't seen them yet. Better stay that way.'
By the third night, Norian's swimming had transformed. His strokes were fluid, slicing through the bioluminescent water with a grace he'd never known in Veltharion.
The aetheric water's power, paired with his relentless practice, made it almost effortless.
'I can do this,'
He thought, a quiet confidence blooming. The river, once a mocking barrier, was now a path. He could cross it.At dusk on the third night, with Xerion's forest glowing brighter than ever—vines pulsing like veins of starlight, moss casting emerald halos—Norian made his choice.
'Tonight's the night.'
The river's current was strong but not overwhelming. He tied his single pouch of aetheric water and makeshift spear to his back with strips of glowing vine, the weight awkward but necessary.
Standing on the riverbank, the bioluminescent moss soft under his bare feet, he took a deep breath. The air buzzed with the scent of night-fruits and aetheric water, sharp and alive.He dove in, the river's glowing embrace swallowing him.
The current tugged, pushing him downstream, but he fought back, his arms slicing through the luminous waves. His heart pounded with focus, not fear. When his muscles ached, he paused, treading water, and drank from the river.
The aetheric glow flooded his veins, sharpening his senses, erasing fatigue.
'Keep going,'
He thought, kicking forward.Then a thought sparked, clear as the forest's neon light.
'Why fight the current?'
It was a simple shift, but it cut through his mental fog.
'Just reach the other side. Let it carry you.'
He stopped resisting, letting the current guide him downstream while he swam forward. His speed surged, the bioluminescent water blurring around him. He'd thought the crossing would take hours, but the far bank loomed closer far sooner.
'Half an hour, maybe,'
He estimated, time feeling fluid in Xerion's glowing night.His feet touched the far bank, and he staggered onto the dark soil, panting. Glowing droplets clung to his skin, shimmering like tiny stars before falling.
He knelt, catching his breath but then he took a water pouch from his waist and drank it. It instantly rejuvenated him. He scanned his surroundings.
The forest here was Xerion's, yet different—its bioluminescence brighter, more intense, as if the vines and moss pulsed with a deeper life. The air felt thicker, humming with unseen energy.
In the distance, beyond the glowing canopy, massive mountains rose, their peaks catching the last of the dusk's light, stark and imposing.
'Mountains,'
He thought, awe and unease twisting in his chest.
'This isn't just more forest.'
Hunger bit harder now, sharpened by the swim. Norian plucked glowing berries from a nearby bush, their neon skins pulsing faintly.
He popped them into his mouth, their tartness bursting across his tongue, followed by the sweet juice of a night-fruit he tore open. The flavors were vivid, anchoring him, but they couldn't quiet his questions.
'What's out here? The symbols? People?'
He needed a safe place to rest, a refuge from the monsters that surely roamed this vibrant forest. The bioluminescence was no promise of safety; it felt wilder, more alive with threats.
'Another tree,'
He thought, scanning the neon-lit shadows.
'High, thick, hidden.'
The memory of three sleepless days weighed on him—his body ached, his mind clouded with fatigue the aetheric water couldn't erase. 'Find a tree and hope it holds.'
Norian moved deeper into the forest, his spear a steady weight in his hand, its rough wood grounding him. Bioluminescent vines cast shifting patterns across his skin, their glow both beautiful and eerie.
His bare feet moved silently over roots, every rustle tightening his grip. The mountains loomed in his mind, their promise of answers—natives, secrets—mingling with the threat of new trials.
'They're out there,'
He thought.
'I'll find them.'
He found a tree, its trunk wide and gnarled, its branches thick with glowing leaves that pulsed like heartbeats. He checked it carefully, eyes scanning for glinting eyes or claws.
Nothing. He climbed, his muscles protesting but obeying, and settled on a high branch. The forest sprawled below, its bioluminescence a dazzling contrast to the decay he knew dawn would bring. He sipped from his pouch, the aetheric water's rush steadying him, but it couldn't silence the unease in his gut.
'This side's different,'
He thought, staring into the glowing canopy.
'More alive. More dangerous.'
The river had been his crucible, forging his body and will. In Veltharion, he'd been too weak to swim, his lessons cut short when his coach vanished—sickness, accident, or something else, he'd never known.
Here, he'd conquered the river alone. But this forest, these mountains—they were a new test, one he wasn't ready for but couldn't avoid.
A distant roar split the night, and Norian froze, his breath catching.
'Not safe. Never safe.'
Yet the thrill was there, a faint ember in his chest, the same wildfire that had burned when he outran the bear. He'd crossed the river, defied his limits.
"I made it,"
He whispered, the words slipping out in a rare surge of triumph, soft but fierce.
"I'm not done."
The night deepened, Xerion's bioluminescence wrapping Norian like a promise and a threat. He was no longer Veltharion's cursed boy but a survivor shaped by this glowing, dangerous world.
The mountains waited, their secrets tied to the symbols, the natives, the truth of Xerion. For now, he rested, eyes fixed on the neon horizon, his resolve a quiet flame ready to face whatever lay ahead.
-To Be Continued