In a quiet corner of his room, a twelve-year-old Aster was preparing to leave his quiet homestead. His parents were already downstairs waiting for him. They were getting ready to travel to the nearest town to sell their harvest for the year—one of the few times Aster ever left their remote homestead.
Aster walked downstairs with a light skip in his step, the afternoon sun glinting off his emerald eyes. The scent of rain lingered in the warm air. Standing at the door was his mother, Roxanne, holding the hand of his three-year-old brother. She wore a peach dress, the afternoon sunlight blending perfectly with her auburn hair and green eyes. Roxanne called out in her melodious voice:
"Aster, hurry up before your father and I leave you behind!"
Aster rushed toward the entrance, where his father and eight-year-old sister, Ayla, were waiting.
Arthur was a tall man with dark hair like Aster's. His eyes held a faint reddish hue that always carried a sense of sharpness in them. His slender but athletic frame was clad in a brown sheep skin shirt with black trousers. His ebony skin gleamed in the sunlight.
In contrast, Aster's sister Ayla resembled their mother far more than she did their father. Except for her eyes which were like her dad's, she was almost a smaller version of Roxanne, wearing a floral green dress and a large sunhat that made her look like a doll.
Aster felt something different about today. The air felt alive, and though he could not say why, the day felt consequential—as though something was waiting for him just beyond the horizon. He shrugged the feeling away for now and went to help his father load the cart.
Aster was usually a very enthusiastic person, but today he had even more energy than usual. This was the first time his parents let them tag along for the trip to town. So nothing could really tie down his excitement for the 2 day trip.
As aster heaved the last crate onto the cart. Everyone in the family got on. And they started their six hour ride to the nearest town.
As aster sat impatiently across from his mother, his hands unable to stay still. constantly fiddling with a small brass ring Roxanne had given him on his 8th birthday. Or trying to drum using hay or some other miscellaneous task to pass time. His mother on the other hand was reading a small book with a old leather bound cover and a very peculiar title 'A Tale Never Told'
Aster couldn't help but laugh at the stupid title. 'Like who names a book a tale never told' Despite that he couldn't help but be curious about it. This was one of the few books in their house Roxanne wouldn't allow any of them to read, this one in particular she always carried where ever she went. Though like a lot of other mysteries about his parents, Aster didn't think too much about it.