The village of Ashbourne sat at the edge of the world.
Or at least that’s what most people believed.
Beyond its fields stretched an endless forest.
Beyond the forest stood mountains.
And beyond those mountains— nobody in the village really knew.
⸻ Arthur Pendragon intended to find out.
⸻ The sixteen-year-old sprinted through the village streets carrying a bundle of firewood over one shoulder.
A grin rested permanently on his face.
Mud stained his boots.
Leaves clung to his clothes.
And there was a small cut on his cheek.
⸻ Another successful adventure.
⸻ Or at least that’s how Arthur described it.
⸻ “Arthur!” ⸻ He immediately winced.
⸻ Too late.
⸻ An elderly woman pointed at him from across the road.
⸻ “What happened this time?” ⸻ Arthur laughed nervously.
⸻ “Nothing serious.” ⸻ “You fell out of a tree again, didn’t you?” ⸻ “…Maybe.” ⸻ The villagers groaned collectively.
⸻ This happened often.
⸻ Arthur wasn’t a bad kid.
⸻ He simply suffered from an unfortunate condition.
⸻ Curiosity.
⸻ If someone mentioned a hidden cave— Arthur investigated it.
⸻ If someone mentioned strange tracks— Arthur followed them.
⸻ If someone mentioned danger— Arthur somehow interpreted that as an invitation.
⸻ His grandfather called it a problem.
⸻ Arthur called it living.
⸻ He eventually reached his home near the edge of the village.
A modest house surrounded by open fields.
⸻ The old man sitting outside barely looked up.
⸻ “You fell out of something.” ⸻ Arthur stopped.
⸻ “…How do you always know?” ⸻ His grandfather snorted.
⸻ “Experience.” ⸻ A pause.
⸻ “You look exactly like your father.” ⸻ Arthur smiled.
⸻ That was usually how these conversations ended.
⸻ Then his grandfather narrowed his eyes.
⸻ Which meant trouble.
⸻ “What are you planning now?” ⸻ Arthur immediately looked away.
⸻ A terrible decision.
⸻ Because it confirmed everything.
⸻ The old man sighed.
⸻ “Arthur.” ⸻ “I’m just thinking.” ⸻ “That’s what worries me.” ⸻ Arthur laughed.
⸻ Truthfully, he already knew.
⸻ For the past week, rumors had spread throughout Ashbourne.
⸻ Hunters had reported strange ruins deeper within the forest.
Travelers spoke of ancient stone structures hidden beneath vines and moss.
⸻ Some claimed there was a dungeon.
⸻ Others claimed it was haunted.
⸻ One man swore he saw glowing lights beneath the earth.
⸻ Arthur had no idea which story was true.
⸻ Which only made him more interested.
⸻ Tomorrow.
⸻ He’d investigate.
⸻ The forest had never defeated him before.
⸻ His grandfather seemed to read his thoughts.
⸻ “Stay out of trouble.” ⸻ Arthur grinned.
⸻ “I always do.” ⸻ The old man stared.
⸻ Arthur stared back.
⸻ Neither believed that statement.
⸻ The Future That evening, Arthur found himself beneath the old oak tree overlooking the village.
⸻ The tree sat atop a small hill.
⸻ From here the entire village could be seen.
⸻ The fields.
The houses.
The distant forest.
⸻ It had become their meeting place over the years.
⸻ A place where dreams felt possible.
⸻ “You’re smiling again.” ⸻ Arthur turned.
⸻ Rowan approached carrying several books.
⸻ The boy looked annoyed.
⸻ Which was normal.
⸻ “You only smile like that when you’re planning something dangerous.” ⸻ “I’m planning an adventure.” ⸻ “That’s the same thing.” ⸻ A second voice interrupted.
⸻ “He’s right.” ⸻ Lyra dropped from one of the tree branches overhead.
⸻ Landing effortlessly beside them.
⸻ Arthur pointed accusingly.
⸻ “You’re supposed to support me.” ⸻ “We do.” Lyra replied.
⸻ “We just enjoy watching your plans fail.” ⸻ Arthur gasped dramatically.
⸻ “Traitor.” ⸻ Moments later another figure appeared walking up the hill.
⸻ Nira Evergrove.
⸻ A basket of herbs rested against her hip.
⸻ Several flowers poked from the top.
⸻ She smiled as she approached.
⸻ “What are we arguing about this time?” ⸻ “Arthur wants to run into the forest again.” Rowan answered immediately.
⸻ Nira sighed.
⸻ “Of course he does.” ⸻ Arthur crossed his arms.
⸻ “Nobody appreciates my sense of adventure.” ⸻ “You almost got eaten by a wild boar last month.” ⸻ “I won.” ⸻ “The boar disagrees.” Lyra replied.
⸻ Everyone laughed.
⸻ Even Arthur.
⸻ For a while they simply sat beneath the tree.
⸻ Watching the sunset.
⸻ Watching the village.
⸻ Watching the future.
⸻ Eventually Rowan spoke.
⸻ “Do you ever wonder what happens after this?” ⸻ Arthur blinked.
⸻ “After what?” ⸻ Rowan gestured toward the village below.
⸻ “All of this.” ⸻ Silence followed.
⸻ Because all four of them understood.
⸻ Their village wasn’t the end of their story.
⸻ Not even close.
⸻ Lyra looked toward the horizon.
⸻ “I want to become a knight.” ⸻ Arthur smiled.
⸻ “That doesn’t surprise me.” ⸻ She punched his shoulder.
⸻ “Good.” ⸻ Rowan adjusted the books resting in his lap.
⸻ “I want to build something that lasts.” ⸻ A pause.
⸻ “Maybe become a strategist.” ⸻ Arthur nodded.
⸻ That suited him perfectly.
⸻ Rowan was always thinking three steps ahead.
⸻ Usually because Arthur forced him to.
⸻ Then everyone looked toward Nira.
⸻ The herbalist smiled softly.
⸻ “I want to help people.” ⸻ The others listened.
⸻ “Not with swords.” ⸻ “Not with politics.” ⸻ “I want to heal people.” ⸻ Arthur wasn’t surprised.
⸻ Nira always carried herbs.
Always helped villagers.
Always put others first.
⸻ It was simply who she was.
⸻ Then three pairs of eyes turned toward Arthur.
⸻ Immediately he became suspicious.
⸻ “…What?” ⸻ “Your turn.” Lyra said.
⸻ Arthur looked toward the setting sun.
⸻ Toward the distant mountains.
⸻ Toward the endless horizon.
⸻ Then he smiled.
⸻ A real smile.
⸻ The kind that only appeared when he talked about impossible things.
⸻ “I want to change the world.” ⸻ The others blinked.
⸻ Arthur continued.
⸻ “I don’t know how.” ⸻ “I don’t know where.” ⸻ “But I want people to have hope.” ⸻ His voice strengthened.
⸻ “I want to build a place where people don’t have to be afraid.” ⸻ The wind moved through the oak tree.
⸻ A kingdom.
⸻ The word remained unspoken.
⸻ Yet somehow all four of them felt it.
⸻ Something impossible.
⸻ Something foolish.
⸻ Something worth believing in.
⸻ For a long moment nobody spoke.
⸻ Then Rowan stood.
⸻ Slowly.
⸻ He extended his hand.
⸻ “If we’re going to do something impossible…” ⸻ A smile appeared on his face.
⸻ “We should probably do it together.” ⸻ Nira laughed softly.
⸻ Then placed her hand atop his.
⸻ Lyra joined immediately.
⸻ Arthur stared at them.
⸻ His chest tightened.
⸻ Not from fear.
⸻ From hope.
⸻ Then he placed his hand atop theirs.
⸻ Four children.
Four dreamers.
Four futures.
⸻ “Together.” Rowan said.
⸻ “Together.” Nira answered.
⸻ “Together.” Lyra agreed.
⸻ Arthur smiled.
⸻ “Together.” ⸻ The sun disappeared beyond the horizon.
The wind rustled the branches overhead.
And somewhere far beyond their understanding— history quietly took notice.
⸻ Because one day: Arthur Pendragon would become a king.
Rowan would guide generations of rulers.
Lyra would command Camelot’s knights.
Nira would save countless lives.
⸻ But tonight— they were simply friends beneath an old oak tree.
Making a promise.
A promise that would one day change the world.
End of Chapter 1