The bell rang.

  It was the third time that week Raine had made his way to the smithy. He jogged through the town, his feet pounding against the cobblestone streets. As he reached the corner he paused to catch his breath, glancing up at the bell tower that stood tall against the sky, its ornate structure a familiar sight amidst the bustling market below.

  Lobos was a weathered town, yet it pulsed with vibrant life. The houses, tightly packed together with their timber frames and wattle-and-daub walls, shared the same shingled roofs. The stone paved road had eroded over time, yet it still linked all three parts of the town, culminating at the intersection where the bell tower stood.

  The stone tower in it’s luminous white was adorned with intricate floral patterns and winding vines, interspersed between statues of winged figures. It rose by layer to a steep peak crowned by a stunning emblem; a hollow sun encircled by six feathered wings. Despite being the oldest structure in town, it appeared almost new.

  The tower housed a massive bronze bell, nearly two metres in diameter. Its engravings depicted scenes of ancient battles, rivalling the beauty of the tower itself.

  Breathing heavily Raine stood beneath the tower, counting the resonant chimes that echoed through the air; one for each passing hour of the day. Eight, nine, ten, eleven…twelve. The midday sun hung high in the sky, casting sharp shadows on the cobblestones and a wave of realisation washed over him; he was late.

  He slapped his cheeks in frustration, the sharp sting snapping him to attention. He tightened his grip around the familiar handle of his axe and hurried on down the path. Today, he needed to have the blade sharpened. A Lumberjack couldn’t fell trees with a dull axe after all, and he knew all too well how quickly they lost their edge.

  The trees of Gaea were an unyielding sort; one could even call them stubborn. They shot skyward at an unnatural pace, reaching full maturity in just a year or two. The soil brimmed with restless energy, which served as a boon for crops but a bane for anyone trying to maintain a building, road or pasture. It was a constant tug-of-war with nature, fighting to preserve what little land had been won back. This was why Lumberjacks were so vital or at least, that’s what Raine’s father always told him.

  Raine rushed past a few more houses almost colliding with the baker, who was carrying a sack of flour over his shoulder, then he swirled out of the way of an upcoming bullock cart. A hearty smile appeared when he noticed the black mounds just outside the town's edge. Smoke moved like white clouds from their surface. The smith always did prefer making his own charcoal after all; he must’ve started a fresh batch.

  Raine noticed his father Pauel was already there talking with the smithy. He smirked as he wiped his brow and sped his approach to hide his fatigue.

  “- And speak of the devil. Here comes our young logger.” The smith called loudly.

  He was a large, muscular man with long and unkempt greying hair and a thick beard. He had a large red nose that reminded Raine of a potato, which stood out against his otherwise soot-covered face. His eyes had a droop to them, lending him an eternally tired expression.

  “How’d it go?” Asked Pauel.

  “No problem at all.” Raine replied, though his hands screamed otherwise.

  “Burnt out the roots?”

  “Till the very last one.” Raine confidently replied.

  His father nodded in approval then turned back towards the smith.

  “We’ll come and clear the log and the branches tomorrow if you don’t mind?”

  “As long as the wretched thing is out of the ground.” Scoffed the smithy, whose eyes fell upon Raines' axe. He gestured with a finger, indicating he wanted it. Raine obliged.

  The smith removed the leather sheath and inspected it. Occasionally the smith muttered to himself and although Raine did not understand what, he had no intention of asking as he didn’t want to interrupt. The axe itself had plenty of wear including deep cuts and scratches, that were etched into its metal. It had a straight edge and a good finger notch below the head. The handle was that of a Red Oak, relatively straight with a slight curve at the end where the knob was. Unlike the axe head, however, it was almost new. Raine had broken the previous one not two months ago.

  “Is a good axe’, this is. I admire it every time he brings it over.” Said the smithy as he placed it on the table.

  “It was my father’s, then mine and for the past couple months, Raine’s been using it.” Said Pauel, as he ruffled through Raines' hair.

  “Aye, I guessed that since you’ve replaced the handle.” Said the smith with a knowing smirk on his face.

  Raine looked at the floor in embarrassment at the remark, but mostly he wanted to hide his smile, as the memory of it still made him laugh. He vividly remembered the earful his father had given him that day.

  “So, I’m guessing you want to keep the handle? It’s quite well made after all.” Said the smith.

  This drew Raine’s attention. Keep the handle. Why wouldn’t we keep it? Weren’t we just going to have it sharpened like always?

  Pauel disregarded the compliment. “It’s just something I’ve made from scrap wood because the boy insisted on using the same axe. Feel free to replace -.”

  “No! The handle stays.” Raine jumped in, confused over what was happening.

  “Are you sure Raine?” Asked Pauel.

  Raine affirmed with a vehement nod. The handle was still relatively new, but he grown quite attached to it. It was something his father made and it meant a lot to him.

  “The handle stays then.” The smithy took the axe, walked towards a workbench that sat in the corner of the room, grabbed a hammer and knocked the axe head off it.

  “What is going on?” Finally asked Raine, clearly bewildered over the situation.

  “What’s it look like? Yer father asked me for a new axe, and we thought it best to use the old one in the process. That way it’ll keep some of the sentimental value.” Declared the smith.

  “A - a new axe? Why?” Raine uttered in disbelief, although there was a hint of excitement in his voice.

  “It’s long since lost its proper edge, and the cracks appearing are not simply due to your inexperience.” Said Pauel as he lightly tapped Raine on his shoulder. “It served well for its time.”

  “Almost too well dare I say.” Added the smith.

  All words Raine had escaped him at this point, he simply stood there in silence.

  “Don’t ya worry. I’ll make it better than it ever was, especially once I add the material your father brought with him.” Said the smith, pointing at the satchel that was placed on the table, right in front of them.

  Raine was surprised he didn’t notice it before. He slowly stepped closer and opened it curiously. It wasn’t heavy at all, empty almost. Inside lay two colourful plates of different sizes. The big one was of a blood red colour, bleeding into brown and black around the edges, whilst the smaller plate had an even coat of a crimson red. Raine took a deep breath, without turning his eyes away from the pair.

  “Are these -.” He took a moment, as he couldn’t believe he was asking something ridiculous like this. “- dragon scales?” He finally finished, in awe.

  “Possibly, although I’d wager the smaller one is from a wyvern.” Replied the smithy.

  “Where? I mean - how’d you even get them?” Raine asked his father.

  “I found them. The small one quite recently in fact. The bigger one however, I found about 8 years ago. It was around the time we found you, so I always kept it as a good luck charm.”

  “Why don’t you keep it then? It’s better than wasting something like that on me.”

  “Wasting?” Scoffed Pauel. “Raine, did you forget what day it is today?”

  “Of course I didn’t forget.” Said Raine matter-of-factly.

  “Well, let’s hear it then.” Encouraged Pauel.

  Raine thought hard. He didn’t think he'd forgotten anything, yet his father clearly knew something he didn’t. Then it came to him. It was the yearly sacrament of initiation. He could hardly contain his glee as he said it.

  His father chuckled. “Almost, but not quite. That’s about a week from today.”

  The smirk disappeared as fast as it appeared. Rained looked defeated.

  “Eh come on, boy. It’s yer birthday, even I know about that.” Laughed the smith.

  Raine felt dumbfounded. He was so focused on work lately that it simply slipped his mind.

  “Then the axe…”

  “Is your gift.” Finished Pauel.

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  Raine smiled at the remark.

  “About a week…” The smithy coughed as he put the scales back into the sack. “That’s how long I estimate this one will take me.”

  “A week, so just around the start of the festival.” Raine mumbled to himself as it dawned on him. That fast!

  “Does mother know about this?”

  “Of course she knows. Whose idea do you think all of this was?” Smiled Pauel.

  Raine skipped in his excitement. My own axe! And one made from dragon scales no less!

  “In the meantime, I have a few more trees that I need to cut down. Could I count on you for that?” Asked the smithy, directly to Raine.

  “Of course, Mr Everett!” Raine beamed.

  “Now, now… You don’t have to get all polite on me again. I thought we’d spoken about that before. Brent will do.” Said the smithy.

  “Of course, Mr Brent!” Raine corrected himself. He tried his best to stay as respectful as possible; his father was still there after all.

  Brent sighed, then waved his hand dismissively. “That makes me think, you don’t have an axe now, do you?” Brent inquired.

  “It’s alright. We have plenty of others at home.”

  “Those are your fathers. You’re turning fifteen if I’m not mistaken. You’re basically a grown man now, so soon you’ll have to take care of your own stuff.”

  “O-of course!” Raine answered energetically.

  Pauel laughed silently as he watched Raine fluster.

  Things clattered as the smith moved some of his tools, finally pulling out an axe that was quite similar to what Raine used normally.

  “This’ll do for the time being.” He said as he passed it over to Raine.

  It was a bit heavier than what he was used to, and it had a bit of a beard. It was very sharp and unused.

  It’s amazing, and I bet it must cost a fortune. Oh, elders forbid me to break this thing.

  “Isn’t this a little too valuable for someone like me?”

  “Hmm, valuable, you say.” Brent leaned back rubbing his chin as he thought, adding a fresh layer of soot on his face. “That’s one way to put it. It’s one of the pieces I made when I was young. Never sold the ol’ thing, but it’d be a darn shame if it collected dust for the rest of its time; never experiencing a proper swing.” Brent explained.

  Raine did not seem entirely convinced.

  “Don’t ya worry, lad. What use has an axe if not to cut trees?”

  Now that’s something Raine did not question.

  “We ought to get going.” Pauel told Raine, who nodded in approval. He carefully put a leather sheath on the axe and thanked the smith.

  It was one of those perfect days that felt like a slice of paradise, just begging to be spent outside. The sky was resplendent, painted in warm shades of orange that cast a soothing glow over the landscape. Fluffy white clouds drifted lazily above, occasionally cloaking the sun and transforming the town into a shadowy silhouette, lending it an air of mystery. A gentle breeze meandered through the streets, offsetting the otherwise warm sunshine.

  The walk back home was brisk, even with the short stop they make at the bakery. Though they still had some bread left over from the previous day, Mom had specifically requested a fresh loaf for this occasion.

  A warm, sweet smell hit Raines' face as soon as he entered the house. Mom’s cooking was always his favourite.

  “Ah, there you are. You're late!” Exclaimed his mother as she put a pot of still boiling stew on the table.

  “And here I thought we were quite fast.” Sighed Pauel.

  “Happy birthday!” She loudly proclaimed as she ran towards Raine with her arms open. Raine couldn't do anything but accept the hugs and kisses that were inbound.

  “M-mom, it's just a birthday.” Raine tried his best to convince her.

  “Honey, please. Let him breathe.” Called Pauel from behind, clearly enjoying the view.

  “Just a birthday he says. It's your birthday! And that’s not just a small thing.” She scoffed.

  “He's a man now. He's not going to have us fussing around him forever.” Pauel countered.

  “I know, I know, but he's still my baby.” She said, pinching Raine’s cheeks playfully.

  “Mom...” Raine groaned, trying to fight off his embarrassment.

  “Let's sit down. We don’t want the food to get cold.” She finally relented after another moment of hugging.

  The rich aroma enveloped Raine as his mother pulled a golden-brown veal roast from the oven, its surface coated with savory leaves and thyme. She tipped the pan, drizzling melted butter over the roast and finishing it off with a sprinkle of freshly ground pepper.

  “Cut this while I grab the potatoes.” She instructed glancing at Pauel, who quickly complied.

  “Can you set the plates, honey?” She asked Raine, and he nodded with a smile.

  Once everything was on the table, Raine's eyes sparkled with delight. The vegetable stew emitted a fragrant steam, the roast revealed a perfectly cooked pink hue and the sauteed potatoes, slightly charred in some spots, were just as he loved them. The crispy bits added a wonderful crunch, enhancing the dish’s texture and flavour.

  “How does everything look?” Olga asked.

  “It's perfect Mom!” Raine replied, his wide smile fixed on the feast before him.

  “Now, now, before we eat, let’s say our thanks.” Pauel interjected.

  Both Raine and Olga joined in unison, expressing their gratitude for the meal.

  The food was delicious, as if made by an angel.

  “Did everything go well at Brent’s place?” Olga inquired.

  “Yeah, it should be ready in a week.” Pauel answered.

  “He didn’t say anything strange, did he?” She asked, a frown crossing her face.

  “Brent? Nah, nothing I can recall.” He reassured her.

  “Oh, I almost forgot!” Olga exclaimed, springing to her feet and heading to another room. “It’s a bit silly, but we thought you’d appreciate this.” She returned, handing Raine a small box wrapped in lovely red cloth and tied with a gold-coloured string.

  He took it carefully and began to unwrap it. Inside was a dagger. The sheath was made of leather, and the elegantly crafted wooden handle was engraved with maple leaf patterns.

  Raine pulled the dagger from its sheath, noting the scratches and signs of use, yet it remained razor sharp. He thanked them, gently sheathing the knife again. Then, he noticed a small locket nestled within the box. It was made of pure silver, oval-shaped and smooth on one side, while the other side featured an intricate carvings of seven dragons, each in a different pose.

  Raine's heart raced, his breathing deepened and became erratic.

  “I - I know this pendant.” He stammered, staring at the unexpected gift.

  “Of course you do; it used to be yours.” Olga said softly, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

  “Breathe, son.” Pauel encouraged.

  Raine closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself. He held the pendant tightly in his fist and after a minute or two, he finally relaxed and opened his eyes again.

  “Where - wha–?” He began to ask but was interrupted by Pauel.

  “You had that locket with you on the day we found you, exactly eight years ago.” Pauel explained. “We've tried to return it to you several times but each time, you seem to have a panic attack, breaking down. Eventually, we decided to hold off and wait until you were a bit more mature.”

  “I'm so sorry honey.” Olga added, her voice trembling as tears welled up in her eyes. “I couldn't bear to see you suffer like that.”

  “That's why we waited until your fifteenth birthday; hoping you would be ready to handle it.”

  Raine was reeling from this revelation. He had always known they were his adoptive parents, remembering how they had kindly rescued him from the beach. They were a middle-aged couple who had longed for a child but had been unable to have one of their own. To them, Raine was a blessing sent from the heavens.

  “Go ahead and open it honey.” Olga encouraged gently.

  Meeting her gaze, Raine forced a small smile before looking down at the locket in his hands. He noticed the small hinge on one side and as he focused, the slit became apparent. He carefully pried it open.

  “Raine Castiel, 7th day of the 1st month, year 871”

  Raine stared at the inscription inside the locket. “What does this mean?” Raine asked, his confusion deepening.

  “To be perfectly honest, we don't know.” Pauel replied. “But we've taken it upon ourselves to call you Raine because of it.”

  “B-but this is something from over 500 years ago!”

  “Exactly, which is why it’s so perplexing. It resembles the pendants we receive during the initiation ceremony.” Pauel continued, pulling out a brass pendant hanging around his neck.

  Raine recognised it immediately: a small, round plate with a hollow sun, surrounded by six carved feathered wings. On the back it read, “Pauel Hensley, 15th day of the 10th month, year 1358”.

  “Does this change anything?” Olga asked, her worry growing visibly by the second.

  “Why would it? You are my family and that will never change.” Raine reassured them.

  Both Olga and Pauel embraced Raine, relief washing over them that he still felt the same way.

  “Could you tell me more about the day you found me?” He ventured, taking a moment before continuing. “I’ve always wanted to ask, and now - now it feels like the right moment.”

  Olga and Pauel exchanged glances and nodded.

  “We'll explain everything there is son, but first, let’s grab a drink.” Said Pauel, hinting at the mead bottle standing on the counter.

  “Not a chance!” Olga protested. “He's too young to drink!”

  “He's a man now, remember?” Pauel countered, pouring a cup for everyone before settling into his usual spot next to the brick oven.

  He began, his voice steady but a bit raspy. “I was on my way home from a job that day when I felt something was off. There were no sounds at all, from people or animals. As the clouds began to gather, I quickened my pace but by the time I reached home, the storm had unleashed its fury, pouring down in torrents. I can’t recall a storm that fierce, before or since.” He took a swig of his mead before continuing. “When I arrived, I found Olga drenched and frantically running around the house. The young caribou had escaped!”

  Raine looked puzzled. “A caribou?”

  “Imagine a large cow or a deer but with thick, wide hooves and the most impressive set of antlers you can envision. We used to have them for pulling logs. Oh, how I’d love to get my hands on one now—ow!” Pauel exclaimed, jumping as Olga pinched him. “Ah, right-right, I trailed off there. Anyway, the young caribou had escaped and since we've paid a decent sum for it, we needed to search for it.” He leaned back after pouring himself another glass. “However, the storm was relentless. During our search on the shore, I heard Olga shout my name. I rushed over to find an unconscious boy lying on the beach. You were soaked. Wearing only torn, ragged clothes and that pendant around your neck.” He gestured towards the locket Raine held.

  “That's not all.” Olga added, glancing at Pauel.

  He looked at her, a mix of expectation and confusion on his face.

  “The shards.” She continued, her voice tinged with a sense of resignation.

  “Ah, right! Scattered across the beach – mostly around you – were shards of glass or some crystalline substance. We tried to pick them up, but they shattered and turned to dust, vanishing like mist.” Pauel explained.

  “What were they like?” Raine leaned in.

  “I'd say they were the size of your hand, translucent, but I couldn't tell you more as it was quite dark.” Pauel replied, his brow furrowing as he searched his memory.

  “As your father said, they looked like rough glass, but that's all I remember.” She added.

  “The storm didn’t make things any easier either.” Pauel continued. “After that, we hurried you back home, dried you off and warmed you up. Not long after, you awoke.” He concluded, relief in his tone.

  “You didn’t seem to remember much, other than your own age.” Olga added, her eyes reflecting the weight of the moment.

  “It was then that we decided to take you in.”

  Raine clutched the pendant tightly in his hands, as if a piece of him, a piece he’d long forgotten, had been there the entire time. All he needed to do was to reach for it.

  The story revealed little that he didn’t already know. Tucked away fragments of memories and brief flashes that occasionally danced in his mind.

  He looked them both in the eyes and spoke. “Thank you.”

  “Oh, don't make me cry now! This was supposed to be a happy day.” Olga burst into tears as she went for another hug.

  “It's alright, Mom! I've already told you, nothing has changed!” Said Raine as he tried to calm her down, but it only added fuel to the fire, as she let out another loud cry and hugged him tighter.

  “What about the knife?” Raine gasped between words, as though having to physically force them from his throat in an attempt to change the topic.

  “This is something that was found on that same beach, weeks after the incident. It was all rusted, with the handle falling apart, but on the off chance that it was somehow related to you, I've had it restored.” Explained Pauel.

  He stood up and went for the mead bottle; he emptied it and brought a fresh one from the pantry.

  “Now let me tell you about the first time you chopped down a tree!” Pauel started rambling, already showing signs of being intoxicated as he mumbled a word here and there.

  “What happened to the caribou?” Raine whispered to Olga.

  “We never found it. Pauel was quite depressed over it.” She whispered back.

  “- And the damn thing fell directly on old Jeff's house! He was livid as he chased you around the town. It was quite a funny sight to see to be fair.” He chuckled, interrupted by a drunken hiccup. “A kid with an axe in hand - running away from an old guy with a cane.”

  They all laughed, then talked into the night, telling stories.