Thrain had imagined the beginning of his journey a thousand times over. He pictured himself riding into the unknown, cloaked in mystery, a lone warrior set on unraveling the secrets of the West.
Reality, however, had other plans.
His horse, a sturdy black stallion he had named Ember, stood stubbornly at the crossroads leading west. No amount of coaxing, pulling, or very persuasive threats could convince the beast to move forward.
"Come on, Ember. We had a deal. You carry me to the west, and I don't sell you to a particularly hungry tavern owner looking for fresh meat."
Ember turned its head to look at him. Thrain swore it was an expression of pure, unfiltered judgment. Then, just to mock him further, the horse turned around and started walking back toward Namaroth.
Thrain sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. This is going to be a long trip.
After finally managing to drag Ember forward (bribing it with an apple, which he was fairly certain it stole from him anyway), Thrain took a 'shortcut' through the Whispering Woods.
It didn't take long before he realized this was a very, very bad idea.
The trees whispered. Constantly.
At first, he thought it was the wind. Then, he started hearing actual words. Turn back… danger… hungry…
Wait. Hungry?
He gripped his sword, glancing around. The shadows beneath the trees flickered. And then—
A pair of glowing eyes appeared in the bushes.
Thrain drew his weapon. "Alright, let's get this over with. Come out, whatever you are."
A tiny, fluffy creature—about the size of a loaf of bread—hopped into view.
It blinked at him.
Thrain blinked back.
"…You're the terrifying monster stalking me?"
The creature let out a high-pitched, bloodcurdling screech that would have been horrifying—except it sounded exactly like a kitten sneezing. Then it rolled over onto its back and wagged its stubby tail.
Thrain exhaled slowly. "I'm being mocked by nature. Wonderful. At least this time it's not a fire breathing pigeon, that thing was awful to fight. "
The creature, unfazed, crawled into his bag and promptly fell asleep.
Thrain stared at it. Then at the trees. Then back at it. "I… guess you're coming with me now? Fine. But if you bite me in my sleep, I'm tossing you into a river."
Hours later, Thrain finally made it out of the woods, only to immediately run into a group of bandits.
"Hand over your valuables!" their leader barked, raising a rusted sword.
Thrain sighed. "Do we have to do this?"
"Do what?" the bandit asked, confused.
"The whole 'I rob you, you resist, we fight, you lose' thing. Can we just skip to the part where you run away?"
The bandits exchanged glances.
"Are you mocking us?" one asked, offended.
"Not yet, but if you keep talking, I might."
"That's it! Get that lil-"
Thrain flicked his wrist. Fire erupted from his palm, setting their weapons ablaze instantly.
The bandits screamed and dropped their weapons, one tripping over his own feet and rolling into a bush.
Another just fainted on the spot.
Thrain crossed his arms. "Really? I barely did anything."
The leader, now weaponless and panicking, quickly threw his coin pouch at Thrain. "Please don't kill us!"
Thrain caught it and weighed it in his hand. "Not bad." He pocketed it. "You should probably rethink your life choices."
The bandits scattered into the woods, wailing like children.
Thrain shook his head. I swear, the criminal underworld has really gone downhill.
After his encounter with the world's most incompetent bandits, Thrain found himself at a roadside tavern. There, he overheard something far more concerning.
"Heard the rumors? There's an army moving in the west. Someone's searching for ancient magic."
Thrain tensed.
Ancient magic. The same kind that had started the Great War in his past life.
His hands curled into fists. This wasn't just a journey anymore. It was a race against time.
He sat by the fire that night, the tiny fluff-creature in his bag stirred. It yawned, stretched its tiny paws, and let out a small burst of flames—which promptly set his sleeve on fire.
Thrain stared at it. Then at his burning sleeve. Then back at it.
"…You little menace. I should toss you into the nearest lake."
The creature tilted its head innocently.
Thrain sighed. "Fine. But you need a name. Something fitting." He thought for a moment. "…You're small, annoying, and probably going to get me killed. I'll call you Nibbles."
Nibbles purred and immediately fell back asleep.
Thrain looked up at the stars, shaking his head. "Yeah, this was definitely a mistake."