"Old man, hurry up!" Eryndor exclaimed, his impatience getting the better of him. He had barely slept that night, his excitement about the upcoming journey keeping him wide awake. The prospect of exploring beyond his home was thrilling, and he couldn't wait to get started.
The old man chuckled and replied, "Patience, young one. I'm coming." He emerged from the house, a hint of amusement in his eyes.
Eryndor's gaze darted around, expecting to see their packed bags. "Grandpa, where are our bags for the journey?" he asked, confusion etched on his face. "You said you'd take care of everything, didn't you?"
The old man smiled and waved his hand, conjuring up one of Eryndor's shirts. The boy's eyes widened in wonder.
"How did you do that?" Eryndor asked, his curiosity piqued.
The old man just smiled and said, "You'll learn soon enough. Now, let's get moving." He walked past Eryndor, leaving him to follow.
Eryndor trailed behind, grumbling under his breath. "Ugly old man, always so smug."
The old man's expression darkened, his veins bulging on his forehead. He turned around, his eyes flashing with annoyance. "One more word, and you'll be walking with a limp."
Eryndor shrank back, his eyes downcast. He muttered, "I was just stating the truth."
The old man's glare intensified, sending shivers down Eryndor's spine. With a deep breath, the old man composed himself and turned away, choosing to ignore the boy's remark.
The silence between them stretched for about an hour, until Eryndor couldn't bear it anymore. "How much longer until we arrive?" he asked, his initial enthusiasm having worn off. The endless expanse of green had begun to lose its appeal, and he was growing restless.
The old man chuckled, seemingly anticipating the question. "I was wondering how long it would take for you to get impatient again." He pulled out a small, intricately carved token from his pocket.
Eryndor's curiosity was piqued. "What's that?" he asked, his eyes fixed on the token.
The old man smiled. "I told you about Rune Engravers, didn't I?" Eryndor nodded, and the old man continued, "This is a teleportation rune, linked to our destination. All I need to do is infuse it with mana to activate it."
Eryndor's excitement returned. "Wow, let's do it!" he exclaimed.
The old man held out his hand, his eyes serious. "Give me your hand." Eryndor hesitated for a moment before placing his hand in the old man's.
Eryndor's world tilted violently as the ground seemed to drop away beneath him. One moment, he was standing solidly on the earth; the next, he was airborne, his senses reeling. His head spun, and his stomach lurched as if he were plummeting down a never-ending rollercoaster.
Eryndor's perception of time was skewed, and what felt like an age was, in truth, only a heartbeat – a momentary lapse in the fabric of reality. As his senses slowly returned he found himself in a completely new and unfamiliar environment.
The sight before Eryndor was a mesmerizing blend of the strange and the magnificent. The chamber's centerpiece was a large, circular opening filled with a mysterious liquid that defied easy description. The liquid seemed to be a mix of two distinct substances: one half was crystal clear and simmering with a soft, white glow, while the other half was dark and murky.
What made the scene truly surreal, however, was the array of statues surrounding the liquid. Crafted with incredible detail, the statues depicted a diverse range of beings, including dwarves, elves, dragons, humans, and even beastmen. They seemed to be works of art, yet they also appeared to be alive, as if they were watching Eryndor with an unblinking gaze.
The chamber's walls were adorned with beautifully carved runes that pulsed with a vibrant, otherworldly energy. The air was alive with an almost palpable sense of power and magic.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" the old man asked, his voice low and contemplative.
"Magnificent," Eryndor replied, his eyes wide with wonder.
The old man smiled, seeming to appreciate Eryndor's reaction. "I'm glad you think so." A hint of Pride evident in his voice.