Soren daxion's Arc

Chapter 1 of 4

Soren Daxion had guided travelers through these mountains for forty years, and now he could not see the ridge that killed his last group. He stood at the edge of the flowered clearing, staff in hand, and squinted at the far slopes. The pines blurred into gray smears. He knew the trail was up there. He knew a wrong turn near the high cliffs meant a fall no rope could stop. His feet remembered every step. His eyes remembered nothing now. He carried the staff for a reason. Every notch marked a person he had lost. He had sworn to train an apprentice good enough to carry that staff after him, someone who would outlive the trail instead of feeding it. But a blind guide could not teach. A blind guide only led the young to their deaths. His dog pressed against his leg and whined. Soren rubbed the black and white head. "I know, Harley," he said. "I can't read the tops anymore." Behind him, a soft voice spoke. "The left ridge splits. There's a slide scar under the second peak. You'd want to keep low and hug the treeline." Soren turned. A boy stood among the roses and lilies, no older than fifteen. Round spectacles sat on his nose. His coat was stained with ink. He hugged a fat leather journal to his chest like a shield. Soren had seen him at the crossroads that morning, watching the mountains, saying nothing. River Glantz. The mapmaker's boy. "You can see that?" Soren asked. "From here?" "I can see all of it." River opened his journal. Page after page held hand-drawn slopes, marked in careful ink. "I read the land. It's the only thing I'm good at." Soren's chest tightened. He had feared he would have to turn back and send the next party home. Now a boy with sharp eyes stood in front of him, offering the one thing he had lost. But River was green. He had never walked the high trail. He did not know that reading a ridge and surviving it were different skills. "You ride ahead," Soren said slowly. "You call back what you see. I walk the ground I know by feel. My feet, your eyes." He tapped the staff against the earth. "You do exactly what I say, when I say it. The mountain doesn't forgive slow learners." River hesitated. His thumb pressed the journal's last page, holding it shut. "I don't show anyone the back page." "Keep your secrets," Soren said. "Just call the ridges true." The boy nodded. He stepped past the flowers and looked up at the slopes, already tracing lines Soren could no longer find. Harley trotted after him. Soren followed. For the first time in a year, he faced the high trail without dread. He had his eyes back. But he was staking two lives on a boy who had never once set foot above the treeline.