Alderfell might have been a forgotten corner of the Verelium Empire, but it was the only home Osen had ever known. It wasn't the snow-covered roofs or the dense forest that made it feel distant from Verelium's cities, however. It was the solitude, the kind that seemed to scrape against the soul of everyone who lived there.

Even in the center of the village, there was a pervasive emptiness. The only people moving about were usually on their way to work or already occupied with it. Friendships and relationships were kept private, their warmth hidden behind closed doors, leaving many of the village's children adrift. They grew up knowing their lives would follow a predictable path: first childhood, then work, and finally the end.

Osen was one of those children. He no longer had expectations. He chopped and chopped and chopped until he could chop no more, the tears from hours before long since dried. All that remained was a comfortable emptiness in his head.

Now he sat on a stack of bound logs, his legs swinging idly in the air. His hands, despite the gloves he wore, were frozen. He didn't see it as something negative, though; instead, he found himself staring at his right hand.

But he didn't want to look for long. His gaze always drifted to his wrist. The scar embedded deep into his skin was like a permanent reminder, a tether to the day the village had lost so much.

As Alex had said, Osen had accepted it. Everyone lost something that day, whether it was their mind or someone they loved.

Rather than let himself sink further into the endless spirals of his thoughts, Osen glanced upward, taking in his surroundings. Snow blanketed the ground like a cover over the earth, and the trees had long since shed their green leaves. Not much grew here anyway; the cold made sure of that. He noticed the remnants of a campfire, along with a few makeshift seats crafted from stones and logs. Perhaps they had been left by villagers. Or maybe by workers. Osen didn't care much for those who gathered like that. Still, there was a faint, unspoken envy in him. To be so relaxed in a place like this said something about their courage—courage he once wished he had.

He sank back into his thoughts, not noticing someone approaching from behind, a leather bag swinging lightly in their hand.

The figure wore a smile—friendly, but edged with a trace of playful mischief.

"Hey, Osen!" the boy called out, his voice cutting through the quiet.

Osen flinched, startled as his body jolted out of its trance. Turning around, he saw Kale trudging toward him, golden hair catching what little light the winter sky offered. A faint smile flickered across Osen's face, and he raised a hand in greeting.

Kale hurried forward, moving as quickly as the snow would allow, his cloak flaring slightly with each step. The heavy fabric covered him up to his nose, leaving only his mouth visible when he shifted. It was a familiar sight; everyone in Alderfell wore cloaks like that to fend off the cold.

"What's up?" Kale asked as he came to a stop, his breath curling in the air.

Osen let his hand drop. "Not much. You?" His voice was quiet, neutral, but there was an ease to it that was rare in his other interactions. Kale was, after all, the only person Osen really spoke to in the village.

"I've been in the kitchen all morning helping my mom," Kale began, his tone slipping into mild exasperation. "Honestly, with my cooking skills, I thought she'd let me handle things for once. But nope—she kept saying I was just distracting her." He shook his head, his voice tinged with frustration. "I don't get it. She never takes it easy. Can't she just sit back and let me do it for once?"

Osen chuckled softly, the sound faint but genuine. "Maybe she doesn't know how to stop," he said after a moment. "Or maybe she just likes the kitchen being hers."

Kale paused, seemingly considering this, then grinned. "Yeah, well, if she keeps it up, I might have to run off to the capital and open my own place. Then she'll have to stop."

Osen's smile lingered for a moment before fading into thoughtfulness. He glanced down, brushing snow off his gloves. "You'd really leave?" he asked quietly.

Kale stopped, momentarily caught off guard. His smile faltered, replaced by a more serious expression. To him, the idea of leaving was as obvious as breathing. Life in Alderfell wasn't a life at all—it was a prison for his ambitions, a hollow place he called home only because his family and friends lived there.

His brow furrowed as he posed the question. "Wouldn't you want to leave here?" His voice was steady, neutral, with just a trace of curiosity. It was a simple question, but Osen's reaction startled him. Osen's gaze darted away nervously, his posture stiff. For a moment, he didn't say anything.

"You'd rather stay?" Kale pressed, his voice rising slightly. "Here? Why?"

Osen exhaled deeply, though it did little to calm the tightness in his chest. Was it nervousness—or something closer to fear? He wasn't sure. Change had always unsettled him, but the thought of leaving Alderfell entirely was something else. "I don't know," he said finally, his voice quiet. "I've never really thought about it. I guess… I don't know what to expect."

The words hung in the air, more a question than an answer.

Kale tilted his head slightly, confusion plain on his face. For once, he didn't have an immediate response. He simply stared at Osen, his thoughts drifting. Kale was firm in his belief that real life began the moment you left Alderfell. Why couldn't Osen see that? The village was a dead end, a waiting room for those who had given up on living.

Finally, Kale sighed and shrugged, letting the tension drain from his shoulders. "Maybe I'll figure it out for both of us," he said lightly, though his voice carried a trace of disappointment.

Later in the day, Osen searched for Kale after their work was done. He found him leaning against a small rock behind a tree, his sword hidden beneath his cloak, eyes fixed on the sky. When he noticed Osen, he smiled and rose slowly to his feet.

"Done?" Kale asked, his voice tired from the weight of training.

"Done," Osen replied with a short nod.

As they began walking back toward the village, Osen glanced at him. "How's work with the guard been?"

Kale let out a long sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. "You mean how's babysitting this place? It's the same as always. Stand around, chase off a few kids from the grain stores, and occasionally deal with some drunk who's had too much of Mrs. Vahlen's brew."

Osen smirked faintly but stayed quiet as Kale continued. His eyes brightened slightly, and his steps quickened. "But, you know… I got to practice some formations with the captain the other day. That was something. There's just something about holding your ground in a drill, knowing you're supposed to stand firm no matter what comes at you. It feels… I don't know. Like it matters."

Osen noticed the change in Kale's tone. The earlier weariness was gone, replaced by unmistakable excitement. Even though Kale started by complaining, his enthusiasm slipped through, as clear as day. Osen chuckled softly, more to himself than at Kale, but didn't say anything.

They walked the rest of the way in companionable silence, the village's familiar rooftops coming into view.

The cold of the village became most apparent in the evening. The streets were almost deserted, and the wind howled through the forest, creating an eerie, almost ghostly whistling. The only sign of life from the villagers was the smoke rising from chimneys and the lights glowing faintly in the distance. They seemed welcoming, yet somehow far away.

Osen and Kale stood on a hill, a simple gravel path winding down toward the village center.

"Well then," Kale began, his expression unreadable. "Let's get going."

The two boys started their descent, moving through the last stretch of trees and into what could barely be called civilization.