‘You want to find people that care about you? Look no further than what’s in front of you, Elementalist.’ Belmont’s words lingered in the air as Vas observed him heading to his camp. All the young men and women there smiled and shook his hand as he laced through the labyrinth of campfires and tents. Vas found himself admiring the lieutenant. He was so comfortable in his role, and his charges adored him for it. ‘Frost aims to make you a leader.’ Those words haunted him. “A leader? Me?” Vas whispered, panic ebbing his words. He couldn’t even begin to fathom how that could be possible. The idea alone petrified him. He was no leader. He didn’t even WANT to be a leader. He didn’t even want to be here, to begin with!

“The Abyss damn him,” Vas swore, kicking at a rock. The stone bounced several times clacking each time it hit the ground and then rolled a ways off. Vas sighed heavily and walked over to pick it up. It was a brilliant river stone with a smooth and glossy malachite backing. Vas was captivated as he found himself staring into it. His ice-blue eyes and olive skin distorted by the breaks and sheared sides of the stone, and given a brilliant emerald sheen. His reflection looked back at him, and Vas’s stare darkened. Looking back at him was the cowardly appearance of a whispy, lonely, naïve young man, barely a year into his twenties. His eyes, already sunken with dark circles surrounding them, like a coon. Crow’s feet already starting to appear at the corner of his eyes from years spent in the pages of a book. His face seemingly stuck in a permanent scowl. Vas tried forcing a smile, but it was hideous and fake. Vas sprinted to the banks of the stream and pulled back his arm to throw away this cursed mirror with all the strength and hatred he could muster. Then he paused, dropping to the river bank feeling heavy and leaden with his worries. He sat there, watching the water ripple at the lip of the riverbank.

He couldn’t even bring himself to greet any of his comrades. The last thing on his mind was leading them. Belmont was doing an excellent job of it why couldn’t he just stay in command. ‘A leader? Me? Wouldn’t that just tie me here forever?’ He convulsed at the mere thought of it. He didn’t even want to be here, to begin with. This was his only option to avoid Emilie and the Karadims, his parents, and a city that waited for him to lead. “Why can’t things just be simple?” He breathed, laying down on the banks of the stream. The coarse gravel and river rocks underneath him buried themselves into his back and scalp. They were uncomfortable, but he felt that was the least of what he deserved. He held the malachite stone above him, catching the light of the dying sun. He found it relaxing. He rubbed his thumb over the smooth surface of the stone. It felt like glass or polished steel, and the color was beautiful. Vas rotated it in his fingers, enamored by the stone’s layers and swirls of different greens throughout its face. Despite the cracked and broken edges of the gem, its beauty and shine – everything that it was worth -- still shone, plain as day, through the erosion and the grime.

The sun was finally setting on the horizon, lighting up the skies with a brilliant orange and yellow. The clouds were stringy and pooled like various puddles of water in soft ground. Their edges glowed a bright red as if a fire had been lit behind them. Their bodies were dyed a deep violet giving way to a steel blue as the clouds spread further apart. Vas still needed to set-up his camp for the night. His stomach gurgled… and get a bite to eat.

Vas rose with a groan like an old dog, polished the stone on his sleeve, and pocketed it. He made his way to the encampment to collect his things from Kaami and headed back to the spot overlooking the river. His thoughts still reeling from the lecture and started setting up his camp. It wasn't like he didn't like or want to be with the others of his unit. There were other Blades, but he just couldn’t find the courage to socialize with them. Any time he tried, he would freeze up, stall, or blather like an idiot. He could never find the right words to say, and it didn’t help that it always felt like his tongue would triple in size. Vas didn’t know how to overcome this intense struggle. Was there something wrong with him? It seemed so easy enough for others to do it. Why couldn’t he?

He was always so afraid of what they would think of him, and just thinking about it made him feel nauseous, stomach turning over like a professional tumbler, his palms clamming up, knuckles going white, and cause his heart to beat erratically triggering a violent spasm and goosebumps. It was odd and unnatural for him to be with people he knew nothing of or even how to just simply talk with them. He didn’t like it. This wasn’t him. This wasn’t who he wanted to be, he wanted to be able to socialize with the others and get to know everyone else. He had been traveling with the Spectres for the better part of a week or two now, and the only person he was able to have something reminiscent of a normal conversation with was Belmont, and that went terribly.

It’s not like he hadn’t had the time either. After the Bids, there was a week of prep time, in which Vas spent it with the new recruits of Regiment Three—some Blades, some regular kids with a wanderlust for battle and glory—as they went through Basic Training. At that time, he still had Desiree and some of the other members of his class with him. Frost had wanted them all. Despite that, Vas was the only one sent to the Spectres, the others had left with Frost and Leischwitz, the leader of the third company. Vas’s group of friends, comrades, were to be part of a joint mission for their Trial, each group was given their own task and cover the Three Kingdoms. Vas’s purpose was to help with the capture of Elmora and learn more about her allies—if any. After basic training was completed, the groups departed Talinzor’s Academy separately. Vas and his classmates never got a chance to discuss their missions with each other. He stared off across the stream. “I hope they’re okay. Please be okay…” he whispered, poking at the fire with a knotted twig.

A tap on his shoulder caused Vas to jump as he was disturbed from his thoughts. “Come, Young One. We’ll be taking the first watch together,”

“First watch? I didn’t know I had Guard Duty.” Vas said his tinged with annoyance. He hated watch duty.

“You don’t, but I wouldn’t be opposed to the company, Green Horn. It will give us a chance to talk.” Vas twisted his head to see who was addressing him. Behind him stood Joris, a gnarled hand outstretched and his leathery skin taut with a smile, partially hidden beneath the fluffy handlebars of his greying mustache. Despite his age, Joris still managed to maintain a full head of grey hair falling to the nape of his neck. Although its slight recession was quite visible, it didn’t look bad by any means. In fact, it only served to enhance his distinct appearance and title.

Joris was the Senior Mage of Lance’s scouts, as well as Lance’s Second, the head mage and secondary leader. Joris had seen more years of service than Vas had seen seasons. According to what he had heard from others, Joris was one of the oldest members of Belmont’s Spectres and had been in the scouts since before Lieutenant Belmont joined.

“Are you coming?” Joris said back to him. Vas grasped his hand and allowed the old man to help him up. Vas dusted off his leather slacks, pits of grass and river pebbled returned to their home.

“Focus,” Vas whispered to himself. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir,” Vas hurried after Joris, who was already several paces ahead. ‘For an old man, he is quite agile.’ The corner of his lip twitched in a half-smile. “My-my name’s Vas, just-by-the-way-sir,” he added, hurriedly dropping the last several words in embarrassment.

“I know who you are, Vas,” Joris said, stretching out the syllables in Vas’s name, almost snidely. Joris paused and glanced over his shoulder to look at Vas. His thin eyebrow arched pointedly. “I may be old, but I still have my wits about me. A Mage’s mind isn’t so easily diluted.” He nodded. “I have been chanting spells, living history, and writing it since before you were even a glimmer in your father’s eye. So please do not insult my intelligence in such a way,” a wry smile returned to Joris’ face as he poked fun at Vas’s behavior.

“No, sir, I mean,” His tongue seemed to have swelled up again, making it hard for him to speak, his thoughts were so muddled. The heat from his embarrassment rising again and making his scalp itch. “I mean, I didn’t mean for it to come out or come across that way. I’m sorry, sir,” Vas was abashed and hurriedly tried to cover his own idiocy. He wanted to be rid of his nervousness and foolishness. Why couldn’t he just vanish or people just leave him alone so he wouldn’t have to keep making a fool of himself? What he wouldn’t give for an ale about now.

Everything was different. Vas finally had a chance to start over, to start fresh, but all he could think about was screwing everything up. This was The Trial. If he made a mistake, at best, he would be dismissed from the corps, at worst… ‘Sent home in the back of a funeral wagon.’ Belmont’s words echoed hollowly. Vas went white at the thought.

“Remember to breathe, child,” came Joris’ voice, soft and reassuring. “I didn’t realize a little teasing would ignite such a distant state. You will be fine,” Vas was so wrapped up in his thoughts he hadn’t realized Joris had stopped walking.

They were at the northern edge of camp on top of a slight cliff that overlooked The Crossroads. It was a beautiful spot, and the ledge that overlooked the area sheltered their camp. Vas smiled. Bushes and trees in full Autumn coverage shielded the party from peering gazes. The air was crisp and refreshing. Vas could see the stream, rolling through the underbrush. Clouds of mist escaped his chapped lips. Silence embraced the pair as they took in the surrounding area.

Vas hated watch duty, but this was something entirely different than at the academy. Occasionally, a chill gust of the late Autumn wind would blow through the woods, rustling the branches of the various oak and maple trees that made up the Amberllyn Woods. The sound of twigs snapping underfoot startled Vas, who turned to face the rustling branches holding the hilt of his blade in a white-knuckled death grip, his casting hand lifted and aimed at the disturbance. ‘There is no promise of easy traveling out here,’ came Belmont’s voice. Vas waited for what felt like hours as he listened intently for another sound or disruption.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Joris whispered. He had made himself comfortable leaning against a boulder, half-buried and covered in a soft, green coat of moss. “Relax, Elementalist. You will cause more harm than good jumping at the slightest distractions,” a half-smile crawled across the mage’s face. “The Spirits in the Wind aren’t something you should fear. At least, not right now.”

“I- I’m sorry, Master Joris,” Vas’s ears grew red and hot at his embarrassment, the itching returning to his scalp. Vas lessened the grip on his blade, color slowly returning to his hand. With a shudder, he released the breath caught in his chest.

“There’s no reason to be so apologetic, my dear boy,” Joris eyed Vas sternly. Vas felt like a child, foolish in the eyes of his mentor.

“I’m sorry,” Vas began, looking at the ground to avoid Joris’ piercing gaze. “It’s just that…” He paused, planning his words carefully. “I don’t do well in groups of people. I thought that by now…” He paused and sighed, placing his hand on the back of his head. “I thought by now I could get over these insecurities and the constant dread looming over me,” Vas walked over opposite the old man and leaned his shoulder against a tree trunk, overlooking the woods below.

“Insecurities will always be there, Elementalist. That doesn’t change no matter how old you get or where you run off to. The important thing to remember is how you choose to deal with them and whether or not you intend to let them dictate your every action,” Joris gave Vas a sympathetic look.

“I suppose that makes sense,” Vas said begrudgingly. “It’s just… It's just that. Ugh!” He groaned and hit his fist against the trunk. “Why is it so hard to talk?!” He turned back to Joris and slammed his back the tree defiantly. He wasn’t angry or frustrated with Joris. The old man was probably just trying to help. It was himself that kept getting in the way of everything.

“There’s no rule saying we have to talk.” Joris looked at him and smiled softly. His eyes were kind and gentle. They reminded Vas of his grandfather, Sages, rest his soul. They were bright and full as if he held all the wisdom in the world.

And so the pair sat there. In silence. A minute passed, three minutes, thirty. Vas slid his hands into his pocket and felt the curvature of the river stone and clasped it tightly. The rounded corners digging into his palm. He started to calm down, channeling his anxiety into the rock. “I just can’t stop overthinking,” he said finally.

“About what, dear boy.” Joris raised his head, giving Vas his full attention

“I don’t know exactly. I know it sounds foolish, but I just can’t stop thinking that I’m always disappointing others, I guess. All my life has been about doing what I’m told. It was always for the benefit or desire of someone else. Now that I’m out here, it's hard. It's so hard being able to do something without the fear of letting someone else down or that I’m doing something wrong.” Vas slid down the base of the tree and rested his head against the trunk. Two squirrels darted across the branches without a care in the world, their brilliant red fur was burred and ruffled. They had been fighting something or playing. He wasn’t sure which. Vas smiled as they chittered away at each other.

“I see,” Joris replied simply. He paused, turning his gaze away from the young man to focus on the sky. Dusk was beginning to set in. The brilliant trove of colors from earlier was fading and being quickly replaced with the dark navy and violet of the night sky. Several of the evening stars were already taking their places on stage. Joris clicked his tongue, “Argh, missed it.”

Vas focused on the old man. He was thin, wiry as any person would be who spent their life behind the pages of tomes and parchment. However, there was something uncanny about his face. Joris was old, there was no denying that, but what was unsettling was that he didn’t really look it. The man’s eyes glowed with a pearl of other-worldly wisdom and were of a bright, piercing emerald color like the malachite gem he found. There was so much life in them. Several moments passed of what Vas felt was an awkward silence. Had Joris heard him, or did the mage just choose to ignore him? Vas interlocked and played with his fingers, deciding whether to say something or not.

“I always love being able to catch a glimpse of the Evening star,” Joris finally said. His gaze drifting over the horizon and getting lost in the sky. “According to legend, back in the Age of Divinity, Gani was Aiysara’s most loyal and trustful friend. After the Immortals were purged by The Snake and their souls sealed away, Aiysara sent Gani away to protect him,” he paused and turned to face Vas, smiling, although Vas swore he saw a deep and broken sadness reflected in the man’s eyes. Joris continued, “The legend says that Gani traveled so far that he wound up among the stars and that now he remains there to this day, watching over the world below. That is why we call the Evening Star Gani or The Watcher; because it is the first star you see at night and the last star you see at dawn,” Joris smiled, his cheeks beginning to turn to pink from the brisk wind. “The lore behind it is simply fascinating. Although, who’s to say if there is much truth to the tale. What do you think, Master Vas?”

“I couldn’t say, I’m not much of a scholar. Although I do love the idea of it. At the academy, I spent a lot of my time in the library. ‘Legends from the Age of Divinity,’ was a favorite of mine,” Vas said simply, “but I don’t see how that is related to our discussion?” Vas found himself sitting in the grass listening to Joris, hurriedly he stood back up, his face burning red with embarrassment. The metal bits of his armor clinked wildly as Vas slapped at the seat of his pants and leather coat, trying to get all the burs, leaves, and twigs off, hoping Joris hadn’t noticed. “Bloody child, that’s what I am. Still in need of a damn wet-nurse,” he grumbled to himself.

Joris chuckled lightly at the young man's antics, "And that is precisely the point." A warm smiled spread across his face, and his emerald eyes twinkled. “It’s okay to be on alert, Master Vas. It’s okay to be afraid. However, if you become so concerned about things you can’t control, you will lose sight of what you can. You need to remember that it’s okay to be able to relax. It is your life, and no one can take that away from you,” Joris rose and rested his hand on Vas’s shoulder. “Yes, people will always be disappointed in one thing or another. That is human nature, but you need to understand that you can’t please everyone. You will drive yourself mad otherwise.” Joris let go of his shoulder and walked towards the edge of the path. “You can learn so much about the world around you and Her people. You just need to remember to focus on what’s happening in front of you. All you need to do. . . is breathe,” Joris motioned to the night sky, more stars were making themselves visible twinkling with majestic light, a myriad of colorful spikes shooting from them.

Vas breathed in the night air. It was cold and comforting. The smells of the area blending into a beautiful balance of scents. He could smell the warm scent of the grass, the musk of decaying of leaves. The sweetness of the harvest. It was going to rain later; the sharpness of the smell reached his nostrils. He was calm. The back of his head no longer itched, and he had stopped fidgeting. His mind still raced from all the ‘what-ifs,’ but he could at least recognize them for what they were now, distractions, fear. It was progress, to say the least.

“I’m sor-“ Vas winced, catching himself. “Thank you,” Vas said quietly. Joris nodded slightly, for some reason, it comforted Vas. Feeling better and more confident, ‘He didn’t laugh at me. Belmont didn’t tease me either. Maybe I can do this.’ he walked up and stood next Joris. Despite his seniority, they felt like equals. “It’s so different being actually out here compared to the field studies we did at Talinzor’s,” Vas said softly.

“Is it, though?” Joris asked him. His thin caterpillar-like eyebrows arching upwards as he stared at Vas.

Vas shifted his gaze downwards and kicked at a rock. “Well yeah. At the academy, we had our instructors there to rely on. If we didn’t understand something or didn’t execute a command perfectly, we could go to them, and they would help us. There was no risk, and they were always upfront with their desires.” Vas explained to him.

“By the Divine, do you really believe that?” Joris exclaimed in jest. “I’ll have you know that you are not the only Talinzor’s alum here, Boy.” He winked at Vas and reached into his satchel, the sound of focus and spell ingredients shifting around soon filled the air. Joris smiled warmly. Apparently, he found the item he had needed. He handed the piece to Vas. He looked down as the small metallic object clinked into his hand. Vas felt the cold metal in his hand, the familiar embossed logo imprinting his palm. It was the Medallion of Tazlinzor’s Academy. Vas could recognize the book, the blade, and the serpent instantly.

“You were a Blade as well?” Vas looked up at the smiling man as he handed the medallion back to him. “I thought Blades where untethered once their contracts expired?”

“Still am,” Joris smiled. “I chose to stay here. Part of this unit, specifically,” Joris walked to the edge of the path to continue on his watch. “You are not the first potential to come through here, and I promise you, assuredly, that you won’t be the last,” he smirked. “Just like when you were at the academy, Master Vas, you need to be able to rely on others. We are here to help and mentor. You may be a Blade, but you are still family,” Joris motioned for Vas to follow. “Now come. We need to resume our patrol, and you need to eat still.” As if on cue Vas’s stomach roared.

Vas followed silently, letting Joris and Belmont’s words wash over him. Family. Vas smiled warmly at the thought. Maybe, I can get through this. Vas tossed the stone up and caught it, smiling as he returned it to his pouch. Vas quickened his pace to keep step with the old mage.