Shaking off the feeling, he continued towards the farm. A few minutes later, the familiar sight of their fields came into view. A quick scan of the area revealed no sign of his father. Zeldris slowly descended from the sky, his senses on high alert. Once his feet touched the ground, he hurried towards the farmhouse, his heart pounding with a sudden, inexplicable fear.

  "Father? Are you here? Sorry I'm late. I didn't sleep well last night." He called out, his voice slightly strained.

  Worried that something might have happened with no response coming back from his father, Zeldris rushed inside, his eyes darting around the empty rooms, searching for any sign of his father. "Father? Can you hear me? Are you okay?"

  "Oh, stop yelling for once, boy. I'm fine!" A familiar voice, sounding slightly muffled, came from the back of the house. Relief washed over Zeldris as he followed the sound to where he found his father sitting in the small, sparsely furnished study, seemingly unbothered, as if he'd been waiting for someone.

  "Father? What are you doing? I thought we were going to start sowing the fields for the next harvest?" Zeldris asked, his confusion evident.

  His father turned, his face stern. "It's already noon, Zeldris. I've done what I could on my own. You took too long. But no matter, your mother and sister should be here with lunch soon. Until then, perhaps you'd care to explain why you're late? And no excuses this time, please."

  Zeldris sighed inwardly. "Ah… he's got that look on his face. But he's right. I should apologize properly and explain. I'm old enough to be responsible for my actions. I can't keep doing this to him."

  He leaned against the doorframe, his expression contrite. "I stayed up late last night, Father. I was… I was learning some new aetheric theories and trying to manipulate my aether so that the spells I use can be more potent while wielding a sword."

  His father's face hardened. "Boy! I've told you plenty of times to give up on those… those dangerous pursuits! They'll bring nothing but trouble to us. We're simple farmers, Zeldris. We live far from the Eastern border. The war won't reach us here."

  "But Father," Zeldris protested, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "It doesn't matter if the war never reaches us. I enjoy learning aether manipulation and combat. It makes me feel… alive. And I know you don't enjoy seeing me—"

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  His father interrupted him, his voice heavy with a weariness that Zeldris rarely heard. "Son… you weren't there to see what happened during the War of the Exodes. You didn't see the destruction, the death… both man and monster alike. The gods themselves seemed to have forsaken this realm, leaving it to rot, while the Asmugian Senate rose from the ashes, leaving nothing but ruin in their wake."

  Another sigh escaped Zeldris, this one laced with annoyance. He rubbed his temple, trying to suppress his growing impatience. "Stop living in the past, Father. We're past that point in time. The war is over."

  Zeldris walked towards the window, leaning against the frame and gazing out at the peaceful landscape. "Look at all this," he said, gesturing to the rolling fields, the distant trees, the grazing livestock. "There's no war here, no death. Nothing but peace and tranquility. Our farmlands, the air we breathe, everything as far as the eye can see is untouched by that conflict. And if you keep looking further and further away, you'll still see nothing but that. You need to understand that the past is just that, Father… in the past."

  His father walked over to him, his expression softening slightly. He placed a hand on Zeldris's shoulder, a rare gesture of affection. "You're still too young to understand everything, Zeldris, but… let's hope you're right." He then looked out the window, his gaze drawn to two figures walking in the distance. A small, almost hesitant smile touched his lips. "Looks like your mother and sister are here already with lunch. Let's go eat and try to enjoy this peace while it lasts. We still have plenty of work to do."

  As the day went on, Zeldris and his family worked together in the fields, tilling the soil and planting the seeds for their next harvest. The work was hard, but the shared laughter and the warmth of the afternoon sun made it feel almost…perfect..

  His mother and sister headed home ahead of them to start preparing dinner, their cheerful voices fading in the distance. Zeldris stayed behind with his father to finish sowing the last section of the field. Once they were done, they followed the path towards home, their bodies tired but their hearts content.

  Zeldris's father walked slightly ahead, his steps slowing as he noticed something strange in the distance. A large plume of dark smoke, much larger than the one Zeldris had seen earlier, billowed into the sky, blotting out the setting sun and casting an ominous shadow over the surrounding landscape.

  Zeldris, walking a few paces behind, quickened his pace, a lighthearted laugh escaping him. "Father, what's the rush? Mother and Sophia aren't going to eat all the food before we get there!"

  His father didn't respond. He stumbled, his hand flying to his mouth as a gust of wind carried a sickeningly familiar stench towards them. The smell of burning wood, but beneath it, a far more repulsive odor – the nauseating sweetness of decay, the metallic tang of blood, and the bitter stench of burnt flesh.

  Zeldris's laughter died in his throat. He cringed, his nose wrinkling in disgust. "Ugh… what is that smell? Did someone forget to get rid of their waste or something?"

  His father collapsed to his knees, his face a mask of shock and horror. His eyes were fixed on the horizon, on the source of the smoke. Zeldris, his initial amusement replaced by a growing dread, followed his father's gaze.