The Virtue Chronicles

Cassiel crept through Rothmoor, the faint crunch of her steps muffled by the soft earth. The village was alive with steady motion—a rhythm of shared purpose that pulsed like a heartbeat.

She passed a pair of women bent over the garden, their hands moving swiftly as they plucked weeds from the soil. Nearby, a group of young men hauled logs from a cart, their voices light as they joked about who could lift the most. Despite the visible signs of strain—the sagging roofs, the patches of dry fields—there was a quiet strength that Cassiel hadn't expected.

Her eyes lingered on a child chasing after a wayward chicken, their laughter echoing as they tripped and rolled in the dirt. Another child ran past with a basket of herbs nearly spilling over, their mother calling after them in mock exasperation. These were simple, fleeting moments, but they carried a weight that tugged at something deep within her.

This was humanity. Imperfect, fragile, but beautiful in ways she was only beginning to understand.

As she wandered toward the edge of the village, a rustling sound caught her attention. She paused, her gaze shifting to the trees that bordered the village. The sound came again, a sudden strange movement.

Cassiel stepped off the path; her footsteps light as she followed the noise. Pushing aside a low-hanging branch, she stopped short, finding herself looking at a boy she recognized from earlier.

He stood in a small clearing, his back to her, one hand outstretched as if reaching for something unseen. Dark fur rippled unevenly across his arm, spreading and receding in waves. The boy—Auren, she remembered Eramus calling him—let out a frustrated huff, shaking his head.

"You're trying too hard," Cassiel said, her voice soft but clear.

Auren yelped, spinning around with wide eyes. "I wasn't—I mean—" He faltered, cheeks flushing a deep red.

Cassiel raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms lightly. "If you're going to sneak off to practice, maybe don't make so much noise."

"I wasn't sneaking," he muttered, glancing at his hands. "I just... wanted to get better."

She stepped closer, her expression softening. "Your gift," she said gently, "it's shifting, isn't it?"

Auren nodded his head.

"Show me," Cassiel said.

He hesitated, his gaze flicking toward the village as if checking to see if anyone was watching. Then, reluctantly, he extended his arm again. Fur began to ripple along his skin, growing thicker, but it wavered and faded before it could fully form.

"See?" Auren said, his frustration palpable. "It's no use."

"You're forcing it," Cassiel said gently. "Gifts aren't meant to be dragged out of you. They're already part of who you are—you must let them come forward."

Auren frowned, his brow furrowing as he considered her words. "How do I do that?"

"Start small," she said. "Don't think about forcing it to come out. Breathe; imagine it in your head first. Then focus on that and see what happens."

Auren hesitated but nodded. He extended his hand again, his breathing steady. The fur grew evenly, spreading across his arm in a smooth wave. His nails darkened, curving slightly at the edges.

"I did it," he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

Cassiel nodded. "Good. Now, hold it. Feel it. Let it settle before you try anything else."

Auren's concentration deepened as he held the transformation for several long moments before letting it fade. His chest heaved as he exhaled, but his face lit with a grin. "That felt... better," he said.

"It's a start," Cassiel said.

Auren looked at her curiously. "What about you? You've got wings—can you... turn into a bird or something?"

Cassiel tilted her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "No," she said.

"What can you do?" Auren asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.

Cassiel hesitated, her gaze drifting to her hand. Slowly, she extended her palm, allowing the memory of her flame to surface. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a flicker of fire appeared—a tiny, fragile wisp danced faintly above her skin.

Auren's eyes widened. "Whoa," he breathed. "You can control fire?"

She closed her hand, extinguishing the flame as quickly as it had appeared. "Yes, though it's not what it used to be," she said quietly.

"But it's still amazing," Auren said, his awe unshaken.

Cassiel didn't answer immediately, but the faint smile on her lips lingered. "I'm glad you think so."

"Let's try it again," Cassiel said, gesturing for Auren to lift his hand. "Focus on the feeling, not the shape. Let it come to you naturally."

Auren nodded, his brow furrowing as he extended his arm. The fur rippled across his skin once more, this time spreading more evenly. His fingers shifted, the nails curving into sharper points.

Cassiel watched closely, her own hands resting at her sides. "Good. Now, hold it. Let yourself feel it, but don't push too hard. Gifts are a part of you—they'll respond if you let them."

Auren kept his focus, his small frame trembling slightly as he maintained the shift. After a few moments, he breathed, and the transformation faded. "That's the longest I've held it!" he said, his face lighting up with pride.

Cassiel nodded, her expression softening. "You're getting better. Remember, progress takes time. It's not something you can rush."

"Do you think I'll ever be as good as my dad?" Auren asked, glancing at her with a mix of hope and uncertainty.

"That depends," Cassiel said thoughtfully. "It's not just about being good; it's about understanding yourself and your gift. You'll be stronger than most if you can do that."

Auren looked down at his hand, flexing his fingers as though testing the memory of the shift. "Maybe," he said, his voice quiet but determined.

They continued practicing for a little while longer, Cassiel guiding Auren through small, deliberate steps. She tried to summon her own flame alongside him, the wisp of fire flickering weakly in her palm as she focused on keeping it steady. It wasn't much, but the effort felt meaningful, a small reminder of what she was still capable of.

The faint rumble of Auren's stomach broke the silence, and he flushed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh... sorry," he mumbled.

Cassiel's lips twitched into a faint smile. "It's all right. I think that's a sign we should take a break."

Auren perked up. "Oh! I should show my mom what I did! She's going to be so excited."

Cassiel hesitated, unsure about intruding on the boy's family. But Auren was already bounding toward the village, his enthusiasm contagious. "Come on!" he called over his shoulder.

With a quiet sigh, Cassiel followed him back along the path, her steps careful as she navigated the uneven ground. They reached a modest hut near the center of the village, its walls sturdy and adorned with simple decorations made of woven reeds.

"Mom!" Auren called as he pushed open the door.

A woman stepped out from the hut, her hands wiping on an apron. She was tall and broad-shouldered, her hair pulled back into a loose braid. Her eyes were sharp but warm as she looked between her son and the stranger following behind him.

"Auren," she said, crossing her arms. "What's all this shouting about?"

"Look!" Auren said, holding up his hand. He concentrated momentarily, and the fur returned, covering his hand in a smooth wave. The claws followed, sharper and more defined than before.

His mother's eyes widened, her stern expression melting into one of surprise and pride. "You did it," she said softly.

Cassiel watched from a few steps away, feeling a quiet sense of satisfaction as the woman pulled her son into a brief, proud embrace.

"And it's all thanks to her!" Auren said, stepping back and gesturing toward Cassiel.

The woman turned to Cassiel, her sharp eyes assessing her for a moment before she smiled. "I see. Thank you for helping him."

"It was his effort," Cassiel said simply. "I just gave him a little guidance."

"Well, I still appreciate it," the woman said. "And I imagine you must be hungry after all that. Would you like to come in and eat? It's not much, but you're welcome to share."

Cassiel hesitated. The idea of sitting down in someone's home and sharing their meal felt strangely daunting. But there was a warmth in the woman's tone that she couldn't ignore.

"All right," she said after a moment. "Thank you."

Cassiel stepped into the hut, her wings brushing the edges of the low doorway. The interior was small but inviting, with a modest table at its center and shelves lined with neatly stacked jars and tools. The scent of something earthy and warm filled the air—stew, perhaps—mixed with the faint sweetness of herbs drying in bundles along the walls.

"Go wash up," Saren instructed Auren, nudging him gently toward a corner where a basin sat on a low stool. "I'll get things ready."

Auren nodded, darting away without complaint, leaving Cassiel standing awkwardly near the doorway.

"You can sit," Saren said, glancing over her shoulder with a faint smile. "It's not much, but we make do."

Cassiel moved carefully to the table, lowering herself onto one of the wooden chairs. It creaked slightly under her weight, but it held. She rested her hands on her lap, her gaze wandering over the room. Despite its simplicity, the space was warm—handwoven cloths draped over shelves, small carvings of animals placed in quiet corners, and the soft hum of life in every detail.

Saren set two bowls of steaming stew on the table, then called over Auren, who quickly joined them. "It's not fancy, but it'll fill you up," Saren said, placing a chunk of bread beside each bowl.

"Thank you," Cassiel said quietly.

Saren sat across from her, gesturing for Auren to start eating. The boy needed no further encouragement, digging in with the kind of enthusiasm only a growing child could muster.

Cassiel ate more slowly, savoring the rich, hearty flavors of the stew. Each bite was a reminder of how different mortal life was—how grounding and immediate. She couldn't remember the last time she'd tasted something so simple yet satisfying.

"It's good," she said after a moment.

Saren smiled, her hands resting on the table. "Glad you think so. We do what we can with what the forest gives us. It's been harder this year, though."

Cassiel nodded, her gaze dropping to her bowl. The quiet hum of the village's struggles pressed at the edges of her thoughts, but she didn't have the words to address them.

"So," Saren said, her tone light. "Auren says you helped him with his gift. That was kind of you."

"He has potential," Cassiel said simply. "He just needed a little guidance."

"Well, I'm sure he'll be talking about it for days," Saren said, chuckling softly. "It means a lot to him, you know. His father usually helps him train, but he's away right now, so..."

Her voice trailed off, and for a moment, the room fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the sound of Auren's spoon clinking against his bowl.

Cassiel took another bite, but a flicker of memory suddenly overshadowed the meal's warmth. Laughter echoed in her mind—light and familiar, the voices of her brothers and sisters filling the golden expanse of Heaven. She saw their faces, their wings shining with divine light, their presence a comfort she had taken for granted.

Her chest tightened, and tears welled in her eyes before she could stop herself. She lowered her spoon, her hands trembling slightly as she clenched them in her lap.

"Cassiel?" Saren's voice was soft, but it carried a note of concern.

Auren looked up, his brow furrowing. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Cassiel said quickly, her voice tight. She glanced at Auren, forcing a small smile. "Why don't you show me those carvings over there? They look interesting."

Auren hesitated, glancing between her and his mother, but Saren nodded subtly, permitting him. "Go on, show her the fox. It's your favorite, isn't it?"

The boy brightened slightly and slid off his chair, moving to the shelf where a collection of wooden animals was displayed.

Once he was out of earshot, Saren rose from her seat and moved to Cassiel's side. She placed a hand gently on her shoulder, her voice low. "What's wrong?"

Cassiel shook her head, wiping at her eyes. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing," Saren said firmly but kindly. "You've got the weight of something heavy on you. I don't know what it is, but I'm here if you need someone to talk to."

For a moment, Cassiel said nothing, her gaze fixed on the table. Then, quietly, she said, "I miss my family."

Saren's grip on her shoulder tightened slightly, a gesture of support. "Are they far away?"

Cassiel hesitated. "Yes... and no. I don't know where they are. I don't even know if they're..." She trailed off, her voice faltering.

"They'll come back to you," Saren said gently. "Family always does, one way or another."

Cassiel's lips quirked into a faint smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I hope you're right."