It was 8 a.m., and the sun had already begun to cast its golden glow over the sleepy town. Inside a modest cottage on the outskirts, five-year-old Riven Altharys was a whirlwind of energy. Today was the day he and his four best friends—Cairen, Selira, Arinelle, and Auren—were going to the city fields, and he couldn't contain his excitement.
He darted around his small room in nothing but a towel, flinging open drawers and tossing clothes everywhere in search of his things. A tiny wooden satchel lay half-packed on the floor, its contents spilling out—half a sandwich, a slingshot, and a few shiny pebbles he insisted were "lucky."
"Ugh! Where's my other boot?" he groaned, crawling under the bed.
From the kitchen, the scent of warm porridge and toasting bread wafted through the air as Seraphyne Altharys, or Sera as everyone called her, stirred the pot with practiced ease.
"Riven, you idiot!" she shouted without turning around. "Don't run around like that, you're going to wake your sister! Do you know how hard it is to get her back to sleep?"
Riven popped his head out from under the bed, his dark hair sticking up in every direction.
"She's already five months old, Mom! She should be used to my voice by now!" he shouted back with a mischievous grin.
Sera groaned. "She's not, and if she starts crying again, you're the one rocking her to sleep!"
Riven rolled his eyes. "Ughh, fine... So what if she wakes up? It's already 8 a.m.—you should just wake her up anyway."
"She's a baby, not one of your little gang," Sera muttered, wiping her hands and stepping away from the stove.
She peeked into his room and sighed. "You haven't even put on your shirt yet. Honestly, Riven, why don't you ever get your things ready the night before, like I told you?"
"I forgot!" he said, tugging on his shirt while hopping around on one leg, trying to fit his foot into his boot. "I was too excited! We're gonna see the windmills and eat sugar buns!"
Sera chuckled despite herself. "Sugar buns won't taste half as good if you forget your boots and catch a cold."
With her help, he finally managed to dress. She handed him the satchel, now neatly packed, and gave his hair a quick comb despite his squirming protests.
"I'm not a baby, Mom!"
"No, but you're not a grown-up either," she said, ruffling his hair one last time. "Now sit and eat before you run off like a little wildling."
Riven plopped down at the table and attacked his breakfast with the same energy he had shown while getting dressed. He shoveled spoonfuls of porridge into his mouth, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk.
"Slow down, you're not being chased by a troll," Sera said, placing a cup of milk beside him.
"Not yet," he said with a grin. "But Auren says there might be one living in the old well. We're gonna check today!"
Sera laughed softly and shook her head. "Just stay out of trouble, and don't stray too far from the main path."
"I won't! I promise!" he said, already halfway out the door, mouth still full of porridge.
Sera spoke while tying Riven's shoe lace "you are not allowed to go far than 100 miles.... of radius than city and when you fly, fly carefully and warn your friends too that we are to fly carefully...and for god's sake don't bring any problems or complaints home from your trip ok??"
"ugh.. mom we know basic magic, five of us can at least kill a troll" he replied in a pride tone.
His mother flicked his head and spoke "Just don't bring any weird stuff like troll meat and horns this time around." "Now leave... your are going to get scolding from your friends for being late anyway, its 8:30 already"
As soon as Riven polished off the last bite of toast and wiped his mouth on his sleeve—earning another eye-roll from Sera—he swung the door open and dashed outside, the morning breeze tousling his freshly combed hair.
"Riven, don't forget to—" Sera's voice trailed off as the door slammed behind him. "—take your scarf…" she finished with a sigh. "That boy has wings in his feet. ugh... well... he flies like a house fly though"
Outside, the street was beginning to stir with early risers. Shopkeepers were setting up stalls, a couple of guards in light armor strolled lazily past, and a dog barked from across the cobbled road.
Riven darted past a fruit cart, waved to the baker's apprentice who was sweeping ash out of the oven, and finally skidded to a halt near the fountain at the center of the square.
"Hey! You're late!" shouted Cairen, his spiky brown hair sticking up as always, arms crossed like he'd been waiting forever. "We said sharp at 8!"
"It's just 8.30 dude chill." Riven huffed. "My mom made me eat like I was going off to war."
"Don't push blame on others duffer, I have lost count of times you were late" said Selira, brushing her silver-blonde hair behind her ear. "You'd probably prefer to die than arriving on time."
Arinelle, the quietest of the group, was perched on the fountain's edge, legs swinging. "Did you bring your lucky stones?"
Riven grinned and patted his satchel. "Three of 'em. Found another one yesterday behind the bakery."
"You both moron's there is no concept like lucky stone," muttered Cairen, but his teasing had no heat.
Ciaren was ignored.
Just then, Auren arrived, still chewing the end of a pastry and wiping crumbs off his tunic. "Sorry, my mom caught me sneaking out and made me sweep the kitchen. Twice."
"You're always the last one," Riven said.
"shut up idiot. you are the one who is always last. i had a legit reason. and i am last for the first time ever," Auren shot back.
Everyone sighed in agreement.
The five of them stood together, buzzing with excitement. Behind them, the town buzzed with normal life—but ahead lay the path to the city fields, just past the windmill hill and the line of old sycamore trees.
"So… we going or what?" Riven asked.
"Race you to the gate!" Cairen yelled, already taking off at full speed.
"No fair!" Selira shouted, sprinting after him.
One by one, they all took off, laughing, their voices echoing down the path. Dust kicked up under their boots as they flew toward the edge of the city, the wind tugging at their hair and the sun beginning its climb higher into the sky.
Behind them, the town faded into the distance, and ahead—wide open fields, secrets waiting to be discovered, and the kind of freedom only children on a summer morning could understand.
They fled joyfully into the open plains, their laughter echoing through the breeze. Verdant green stretched in every direction, the grass swaying gently under the morning sun. The sky above was a brilliant blue, dotted with drifting clouds that seemed to race them across the horizon.
All around them, life thrived—birds sang from distant trees, and insects buzzed lazily in the warm air. The five children ran wild across the fields, their spirits unburdened, their hearts full of wonder.
They played countless games, chasing shadows and leaping over patches of wildflowers. One by one, they began to show off the basic magic their parents had taught them over the past month. Little sparks danced at their fingertips, gusts of wind swirled leaves into spirals, a stone was lifted momentarily into the air—simple tricks, but to them, it was nothing short of sorcery.
Later, they wandered to the edge of the lake, where the water shimmered under the midday light. They fished with makeshift rods and skipped stones across the surface, competing to see whose stone would bounce the most.
By the time the sun had climbed to its peak, the group found themselves gathered beneath the only massive tree in the plains—a towering oak whose thick branches offered cool shade from the afternoon heat. It stood alone, ancient and silent, as though it had been watching over the land for centuries.
At exactly two in the afternoon, they all settled down in the grass, backs against the sturdy trunk. One by one, they reached into their inventory rings, summoning out neatly packed lunches with the casual ease of children used to small wonders. The scent of fresh bread, fruit, and roasted meat filled the air as they began to eat, legs stretched out, sunlight peeking through the canopy above them.
Peace surrounded them, unspoken but deeply felt—the kind of peace only childhood can know, in a world still wide and full of magic.