Visindor Forest remains at peace as it has every morning for centuries. Birds sing and shimmering pixies play tag in the warm sunlight. Glistening droplets of dew cover the leaves and grass as animals quietly venture out of their homes. A low grunt echoes throughout the wilderness causing all other sounds to stop for a few seconds. The grunt returns minutes later, but it is too far away to worry the timid forest creatures. It is a landscape of serenity that painters only dream of capturing.

No place is more peaceful than where a tumbling brook cascades into a deep lake where slender naiads bathe and a herd of red-hide deer drink. The only sound that does not fit with the rest of the morning stirrings emanates from the lakeshore. It is this constant, steady grinding noise that catches the attention of several pixies. They cautiously approach the lone figure before they realize that they have no reason to fear the swordsman. The youth smells like the forest and has an air of raw nature about him. Instinctively, they know he is trained in the ways of the wild. It is the adult noble shepherd that is curled up by the smoking remains of a fire that makes the tiny creatures nervous. The pixies tiptoe through the air, trying to get a closer look at the youth without disturbing the dog. They are within a few feet of the swordsman when the dog wakes up and barks at the curious pixies.

“You sleep through the call of a dread boar, but sneaking pixies wake you?” the young warrior asks with a friendly smile. In response, the stubborn dog continues barking at the pixies. “Calm down already, Stiletto. They don’t mean any harm. Grandpa said that pixies never attack unless their soul tree is threatened. So be careful where you try to relieve yourself.”

The young warrior’s face and body show very few signs of battle or harsh traveling. The pieces of leather armor on his forearms and torso are as smooth and pristine as the day they were bought. His dirty face is very handsome with no scars or stress lines that one would expect to find on a wandering warrior. Even his dark blond hair looks to be well groomed, which is incredibly rare among adventurers. At first glance, most people would think that he was new to the road until they notice his boots. Once high-grade leather with silver embroidery, they are a beaten shadow of their former glory. Caked on mud covers much of the leather and only faint flecks of silver remain of what must have been an intricate pattern. To say that these boots were well-used would be an understatement.

The young man eventually puts down his twin sabers and tosses a piece of dried meat to the dog. A blue pixie lands on one of the youth’s pointy ears and begins inspecting his face. It gently wipes at a smudge of dirt on his cheek. With a smile, the tiny creature flies back to its two friends who are hiding behind a wide leaf in the low branches. They rejoin the larger group of pixies that continue playing a game of tag through the trees.

“Now, this is the freedom that we were meant to have,” the young warrior happily declares. “Sure beats being stuck at home and not seeing anything beyond the town borders. Right, Stiletto?” He goes back to sharpening his blades and taking some time to buff the smooth ruby embedded in the pommel of each weapon. He stops abruptly and sheathes the sabers with a frustrated mutter.

“Who the hell am I kidding? This isn’t what I want at all!” he explodes in sudden frustration. “We left home six months ago and I haven’t done anything heroic yet. All of my ancestors were great heroes of Windemere, so why should I be any different? I should be able to gain the same respect and prestige that they had. The bards make wandering for adventures seem so glamorous and easy, but there is so much competition for jobs. All these mercenaries and established heroes keep beating me to the big jobs. They get to fight demons, Weapon Dragons, and trolls while I’m left with scraps. All I want to do is go down in history as a great hero who saved some part of Windemere. Not the greatest hero, but just one of the greatest. Not some pathetic slayer of nuisances like skeletons and rabid goblins. Is it so wrong to want to be as great as your ancestors?”

The dog rolls its eyes as if it has heard this rant many times before.

“Don’t start! All I’ve done so far is stop goblin raids and minor undead from destroying nearby towns. Look at me! I haven’t even been touched in these battles. People don’t believe I’ve even been in a fight. I know that I’m helping people, but I need something bigger than these small jobs. The dangers around here are far too easy to defeat,” the half-elf complains while pacing between two maple trees.

“Look, Stiletto, we both know that I am highly skilled in the arts of tracking, fighting, and hunting. I have proven that nothing frightens me. At least, nothing that I’ve seen so far since I have yet to run across demons, dragons, and the more unique monsters that this area has to offer. Still, I didn’t run when I faced my first zombie or my first orc, which has to count for something. When do I get a chance to prove to all of Windemere that I have what it takes to be a great hero?” He stops pacing and looks at the morning sky. “I’m fed up doing all these small jobs. Today, I am going to find an actual adventure and start on my path to being a hero. Are you with me, Stiletto?”

The young man bends down to pat the dog on the head while Stiletto continues chewing on the piece of dried meat. “Lots of help you are. The least you could have done was stop eating while I talked. It was a good rant too.”

The snap of a twig catches the young man’s attention and he whirls around with both sabers drawn. Standing next to a tree is a short, slender woman in an elegant gown of silver satin that contrasts with her long, fiery hair. The youth is slightly taken aback by her ethereal beauty, finally managing to look directly into her deep, sapphire eyes. Something about her seems familiar, but he can’t concentrate long enough to remember where he’s seen her before. He feels like he is compelled to break eye contact by something deep within his bones.

“You have strong reflexes, young warrior. I heard that forest trackers have some of the fastest reactions in the mortal world, but I never had the pleasure of speaking with one before today,” the woman says before looking a little worried. “You are Luke Callindor, right? I would feel very foolish if I approached the wrong half-elf. There is so many more of your kind in Windemere since the last time I left Ambervale.”

Luke stares in awe for a few seconds before he finds his voice. “Yes, I am. This is just incredible. I never met a goddess before. I’ve heard of people meeting with gods and goddesses, but I never thought that I would, especially with Zaria. The goddess of purity is one of the patron deities of my hometown. I mean, you are one of our patron deities.”

Zaria smiles warmly and makes a small bow. “I am impressed that you recognize me so quickly. Most people do not recognize me within the first few minutes of meeting me. I normally have to give them a hint or introduce myself. It is all because those silly artists insist on giving me blonde hair instead of red.”

“I saw a gemstone statue of you when I was five,” Luke says with growing pride. “It looked just like you, but with blonde hair. I never forgot what it looked like. You probably already know this, but I have bard’s memory. So, I remember every detail that I ever see. It may take a few minutes of concentration for me to recall the information, but it’s in my brain somewhere. I don’t forget anything unless I want to. It comes in handy when wandering in the wild.” Luke pauses when he realizes that he is rambling to the goddess. He clears his throat and decides to get straight to the point. “So, why are you looking for me? I’m just a forest tracker who wants an adventure. You don’t happen to have one for me, do you?”

Luke’s bright, green eyes give away his joy at the possibility of receiving a mission from the gods. Zaria can’t help but smile at the excited look on his face. Her smile covers the misgivings that she has about what she must do to the boy. Like Uli, she is unconvinced that Luke is ready for what Gabriel wants to pit him against. Unlike Uli, Zaria knows that there is no stopping this from happening. She would rather start Luke off with hope and excitement instead of whatever horrible method Gabriel would use. Her smile fades as she dwells on how much she loathes the god of destiny and how she has to work with him to solve their mutual problem. Zaria snaps out of her trance with a gentle shake of her head.

“Your enthusiasm is very alarming, as is your announcement of your abilities. You are a friendly person, Luke, but you cannot trust everyone with your secrets,” the goddess warns him while touching Luke’s arm. “The point of my visit is that several gods have been watching you. I have been sent to converse with you on their behalf. We know that you desire to be a great hero and we believe that you will eventually reach your goal. You have many of the qualities and skills that a hero needs, but you lack the discipline that will bring you to the end of your journey without fail. In the end, I do not believe that you are mentally ready for the adventures that you seek.”

Luke looks insulted and marches up to the goddess without hesitation. He is a little taller than her, so he takes a step back in order to look her in the eye without having to bend down. He stares long and hard at the goddess without breaking eye contact. The half-elf attempts to speak once or twice, but no words come out. It is unclear to Zaria whether facing a god has caused his near-silence or he is simply unsure what to say.

“It is impressive that you can stand up to a goddess of my caliber. You are a brave boy, but you need more than that to succeed,” Zaria dryly states. “If it was my choice, I would give you more time to mature, but the choice is not mine. Please, do not mistake my statement as an obstacle to your success. I simply worry that you are being sent to a premature death, but it is out of my hands. I am merely a messenger this day.”

Luke takes a few more steps back as Stiletto walks over to lick his hand. “Why are the gods interested in me?”

Zaria conjures a high-back chair of silver with a thick, silk cushion. “You will find that answer eventually. I can only point you in the right direction. Your life’s journey is about to begin and it will be a long time before you reach the end of your path. That is if you are able to make it all the way down your path in the first place,” Zaria stoically explains, noticing that Luke is unfazed by her warning. “I won’t lie to you and say that it is predetermined that you will succeed or even live through the adventures ahead.”

Luke bends down to scratch Stiletto behind his ears. Zaria frowns and crosses her arms as Luke turns back to her. He silently nods and goes to get his backpack to pull out a brown, elven flute. Luke plays a few slow notes on the curvy flute, earning a response from a songbird before tucking the instrument into his tunic.

“How old are you, Luke?” Zaria asks.

“I turned eighteen on the ninth of Kruma,” Luke answers, his voice filling with mild concern.
“That’s six months ago if I’ve been reading the sky correctly. Why do you ask?”

“Most adventurers start when they are older. Your youth is just another reason for me to have doubts about directing you toward your destiny,” she says as she slowly fades away. “Unfortunately, less patient gods will step in if I refuse to do this. Your path goes east and will lead you to the Hamilton Military Academy. A retired mercenary named Selenia Hamilton runs the academy. That will be where you find your adventure.”

“Wait a second. You forgot a few things!” Luke shouts at the sky. “How am I going to get inside the academy? I’ve heard of places like this! They won’t let me through the front door for free! Zaria! I’m too poor to afford this quest!” The only response he gets is some faint laughter from the pixies.

Luke tightens the fraying straps of his boots and gently rubs his legs. “Guess we’re on our own, Stiletto. At least the academy is in the direction we were already heading if I remember the map correctly. If nothing turns up and we can’t do anything at the academy then we can go into the Caster Swamp. I’ve heard all about the necrocasters, giltris, and other nasty monsters that living there. Sounds like there’s enough in that evil place to keep veteran warriors busy for a few days, which means I can finally find a challenge.”

Luke takes a deep breath and stretches before sprinting deep into Visindor Forest. Stiletto is at his heels, but the pace is very difficult for the lumbering dog to maintain for too long. Stiletto falls a few feet behind while Luke gracefully runs around trees and leaps over rocks that get in his way.