Morning arrived quietly on Taran Isle.
The sun had only begun to slip over the horizon, painting the sky with soft streaks of gold and rose, when Rynn Vale snapped awake. He had barely slept—excitement had kept tugging at his thoughts all night—but somehow he felt lighter than air.
Today was important.
He swung his legs off the bed, tied his shoes with fumbling fingers, and rushed out of the house before Nia could even ask if he wanted breakfast. The sky above was still pale and cool, and seabirds drifted lazily over the water as if welcoming him into the morning.
Rynn took off running.
The path to the Guild post was long—three hours if you kept a steady pace, four if you had short legs and got distracted easily. Rynn had short legs and got distracted very easily, but today he ran like someone who had been waiting his entire life for this.
He jumped over fallen branches, splashed across a shallow stream, and waved at a farmer who stared at him like he was being chased by wolves.
By the time he reached the corner of the island, his breath was ragged and his clothes were damp from sweat and morning dew.
But when the Guild post came into view, simple and sturdy against the backdrop of cliffs and sea, Rynn felt a thrill run through him.
It wasn't impressive like the guild buildings he had read about in books. It was just a small square structure made of pale stone, its windows wooden and its roof slightly crooked from years of storms. The Guild emblem above the door had faded so much it looked more like two wings than a crest.
Still, to Rynn, it might as well have been the gate to a new world.
He pushed open the door.
Inside was a quiet hum of papers shuffling, pens scratching, and footsteps echoing from wall to wall. Less than ten workers moved about, each looking like they had seen this routine a thousand times. There were no grand decorations, no glass displays—just plain counters, a few old lanterns, and shelves filled with documents and relic registration scrolls.
Rynn hurried to the front desk where a clerk with round spectacles and tired eyes sat flipping through forms.
"Excuse me," Rynn said, trying to stand a little taller, "I'm here to register for the Seeker exam."
The clerk didn't look up immediately. He finished writing something, placed the paper aside, and finally adjusted his glasses to peer at Rynn.
"Name?"
"Rynn Vale."
"Residence?"
"Taran Isle, Eastside."
"Age?"
"Fourteen!"
"Age verification?"
The words hit Rynn like a punch.
He froze.
Verification?
Certificate?
Identification?
He hadn't brought anything. His excitement earlier had overridden every responsible thought he was supposed to have.
"Uh… I… don't have it with me," Rynn admitted. "But I swear I'm fourteen! You can trust me!"
The clerk gave him the kind of look adults reserve for children claiming they didn't eat the cookies.
"Trust is not an acceptable form of verification," the man said flatly. "Go home and bring your documents. Next—"
"Hold on a moment."
The voice came from the shelves behind them.
Old Brennar—one of the longest-serving Guild workers on the island—stepped forward. His beard was gray and uneven, his hair pulled back into a short tail, and his expression was a blend of amusement and mild exasperation.
He eyed the clerk. "You're new here, aren't you?"
The clerk straightened. "Yes, sir. Transferred last month."
"Well," Brennar said, patting Rynn lightly on the shoulder, "you should know this boy. He's been shouting about becoming a Seeker since he could walk. He's fourteen. Register him."
The clerk hesitated. "But regulations—"
"We'll sort out the paperwork later," Brennar interrupted. "Confirm his application. He's a local. Every old man on this island could tell you his age."
Rynn felt heat rush up his neck. Embarrassment, gratitude, and relief tangled together.
The clerk sighed. "Very well. But only because you say so."
He stamped the paper and slid a slip toward Rynn.
"Return in the evening for confirmation."
Rynn beamed. "Thank you!"
But his joy ran into a wall the moment he stepped outside.
Home was three hours away.
And the confirmation wasn't until evening.
Rynn weighed the options for exactly two seconds.
He sat down on the stone step.
Going home would waste six hours.
Going home might mean missing the announcement.
Going home was simply not happening.
So he waited.
The first hour was manageable.
The second was tolerable.
The third was a battle between boredom and sanity.
By hour four, Rynn was lying on the grass, staring at clouds and imagining himself in every shape he saw. By hour six, he circled the Guild post five times, counted all the stones on the path (thrice), and kicked a dozen pebbles off the cliff.
Workers came and went.
People stared.
One man asked if he was lost.
Rynn just smiled and waited.
Finally, ten long hours after he arrived, a bell rang inside the Guild post.
Rynn bolted to his feet.
The clerk stepped out with a sheet in hand.
"These are the accepted applicants from Taran Isle," he announced.
Rynn's lungs held their breath.
The clerk read name after name—some Rynn recognized, some he didn't. A few nervous applicants shifted from foot to foot around him.
Then…
"Rynn Vale."
The sound echoed in his skull.
He didn't walk; he launched himself forward to take the confirmation slip, thanked the clerk so fast it came out as a single word, and sprinted down the path toward home as if the world had just given him wings.
He burst into their small wooden house just as Nia was putting bread on the table.
"I passed!" he shouted.
Nia turned, eyes widening. "You… really?"
Rynn nodded so hard his hair nearly whipped his face.
Her expression softened into a warm smile—gentle, relieved, and proud. "Then tonight," she said quietly, "we celebrate properly."
She prepared a meal bigger than anything they'd had for months: warm bread, seasoned fish, steamed greens, and a tiny bowl of roasted nuts she had saved for special days.
They talked while eating. Rynn talked more—about the Guild post, the people he saw, the long wait, the names that were read. Nia mostly listened, smiling whenever he grew too excited to breathe between sentences.
Later, after dinner, Rynn sat on his bed, looking out the window at the moonlit sea.
Tomorrow, he would leave Taran Isle.
Tomorrow, the world would begin.
He imagined towering cities made of glass and stone.
Dense jungles filled with strange creatures.
Ruins that hid secrets older than memory.
His eyes slowly drifted shut, his excitement settling into sleep like gentle waves against the shore.
Morning arrived sooner than he expected.
Rynn packed his satchel at record speed, threw on his travel clothes, and walked with Nia to the docks. The sky was bright, the water calm, and the ship waiting with its sails half-raised.
Villagers gathered in small groups, wishing luck to the departing youths.
Nia stopped just short of the ramp.
Her eyes glistened, though her smile stayed steady. "Make sure you call me when you arrive," she said softly.
"I will," Rynn promised.
"And… come back someday. Tell me all your stories in person."
"I will," he said again, more quietly.
She pulled him into a tight hug.
Rynn hugged her back.
When she let go, he walked up the ramp. The deck vibrated under his feet as the crew made final preparations.
He turned one last time.
Nia stood on the dock, hand raised, smiling despite the tears in her eyes.
The ropes were pulled free.
The sails caught the wind.
The ship began to glide away from the island.
Rynn placed a hand on the railing, watching Taran Isle grow smaller.
The world stretched wide before him—vast, unknown, waiting.
And just like that,
the boy who longed to see the world finally took his first step beyond the place that raised him.
Where that road would lead… no one knew.
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