"Home is not where you are born, but where your soul is understood and your roots remembered."
Later, as the sun dipped low and the sky violet, Kael lay on the roof of his family's home,arms folded behind his head.The stars had begun to blink to life,soft and slow.
"Do you ever wonder what's beyond?" he asked. Taren, perched nearby, did not reply at first. "Beyond what?"
"The sky.The clouds.The edge of Elyssara."
"There is no edge." Taren said. "The world is a circle."
"Even circles have borders," Kael argued. "I just want to see what's out there.Don't you?"
Lira laughed from the hatch below." You want to climb *Umoja*, chase the stars and run past the world's edge.You will end up falling into the void."
Kael sat up. "Maybe. Or maybe I'll find something… different.Something no one has ever seen."
Taren looked at him sideways. "You really think there is more than this?"
"I hope there is," Kael said. "Not because this isn't perfect.But because …it's *so* perfect.It makes me curious what's waiting beyond."
They didn't answer him.
The stars above blinked slowly. The wind carried the scent of blooming sky flowers.Somewhere deep in the distance, the tree *Umoja* pulsed once more.A slow, warm breath. Kael closed his eyes.He didn't know what awaited him.
The morning mist clung to the grass like a secret, curling around the woven huts and winding paths of the village of Ngao, hidden deep within the green jungles of Elyssara. The sun hadn't fully risen yet, but already, the village's streets buzzed with life.From bleating of goats, the distant hammering of blacksmiths to the rhythm of drums being practiced by the morning ritual keepers.
Kael awoke to the smell of roasted roots and wild honey, the usual breakfast his mother prepared.Their hut, crafted from the smooth bark of *seluru* trees and insulated with dried moss, sat near the foot of a small hill which was overlooking the glowing canopy of the forest below.The roof was crowned with sun-bleached feathers.A sign of honor bestowed only on the leaders of the clans.His parents, after all, weren't any ordinary villagers.
His mother, Eshani, was humming to herself as she stirred the morning brew.Her long braided hair flowed down her back like woven night.Her eyes held sharp wisdom that often frightened warriors twice her strength.She noticed him stirring and turned with a bright smile.
"You sleep like a stone, Kael," she said. "The sun awaits for no dreamer."
He sat up, stretching. "Then I must learn to outrun it."
His father, Dreth, stood just outside the hut sharpening his spear. Not out of necessity, but habit.He was tall, broad shouldered with ceremonial beads woven into his beard. His eyes were always watching like hawk's. Some whispered he once fought off three beast of the deep jungle alone, but he never spoke of such things.
"You will need sharper wit than that if you are to lead this people one day," Dreth said without looking back.
"I haven't said I will," Kael muttered, just loud enough for his mother to hear. Eshani handed him a wooden cup filled with warm *nyata* tea. "You don't need to say it.The tree already knows."
Kael stared into the swirling steam.Sometimes he wished *Umoja* didn't know so much.
Outside, the village was alive. Children chased glowing insects around trees that whispered when the wind passed. Hunters prepared their weapons, whispering blessings to the spirits of the forest. An elder carved glyphs into stones near the sacred fire, while a group of men weaved clothes dyed with colors of rives flowers. Above them all, *Umoja* stood in watch.Its presence inescapable sacred.
As Kael walked through the village, people greeted him with nods, some with respectful bows.Not because he was special, but because he was expected to be.
"Good morning, young chief," said an old man Turo, the storyteller, his blind eyes covered with painted cloth.
"I am not the chief yet," Kael replied, smiling.
Turo chuckled, "Yet."
He moved past the storyteller toward the bustling marketplace.Stalls brimmed with *spora* fruits, golden roots and smoked meat.A few merchants from neighbouring tribes traded glowing stones and sky-lizard feathers, their dialects dancing through the air.
However, Kael's favorite spot wasn't among all this noise.It was at the edge of the village, near the stream where the frogs sang.There he sat with Lira and Taren, their feet dipped in the cool water.
"Another lecture from your father?" Lira asked, handing him a slice of *zukwa* fruit. He bit into it, juice dripping down his chin. "This one he had fewer words.Just a glare and some talk of destiny."
Taren chuckled. "You are lucky.My mother won't stop asking when I'll start healing training.She wants me to learn the 'art of restoring life'.I want to learn the art of breaking noses."
"You'd be good at both," Lira teased.They laughed but Kael was quiet, staring at the current. "What if I don't want to lead?" He finally asked.
Silence fell.
Lira tilted her head. "Then don't."
"But it is not that easy," he said. "This land is …alive.It feels me. The people…they look at me like I am already something I am not.What if I fail?"
"You aren't afraid of failure," Taren said softly. "You are afraid of not being free." Kael blinked surprised. He was right.
****
That night, the village gathered around the bonfire for the moon ritual.Elders danced while telling stories of past wars and times of peace.Children watched with wide eyes as sparks danced into the stars. Kael's mother sang the Song of Life, her voice carrying across the valley like a silver wind.His father stood with other leaders, silent but strong, the flickering flames casting sharp shadows across his face.
Kael stood beneath *Umoja*, watching the ritual from a distance.
"Why do I feel like I don't belong, even when everyone expects me to?" he whispered. The tree said nothing.But its branches rustled.Not with wind but memory.
A soft voice startled him. "Because maybe you are meant to belong somewhere else."
He turned.It was Turo again, leaning on his cane.
"You weren't born to fill anyone's shadow, Kael," the elder said. "Even your father's.You were born to cast your own." The old man walked away, vanishing into the smoke and celebration.
Kael wanted to follow him but he was nowhere in the vicinity.He looked back at the fire and then horizon.He didn't know what the future held.But deep inside, something stirred.A calling.A storm waiting beyond the mountains.And the thought of it both frightened and excited him.Somehow it made his stomach churn and heart beat faster with a mix of emotions.
He didn't know that soon, the sky above Elyssara would burn with strange lights.That foreign tongues would poison these very sacred grounds.That the peace they knew would crack like dry earth under thunder.
But for now, the fire burned.The people danced. And *Umoja* watched, ancient and silent, as the winds began to shift.