It happened on a quiet afternoon. Laian, lounging in the breeze, decided to place a small obstacle in the path of a marching line of ants. The column scattered in confusion, and one ant broke away, heading off in a completely different direction. As Laian watched it go, something inside him shifted.
Laian didn't inform Lairei about her leave. By the time Lairei's fury swept across the wildlands, he was already long gone from Varhya. A wandering theater troupe had taken him in, offering food and shelter. For months, he stayed on as a performer. Every time he bent steel or lifted something with ease, the crowd would burst into applause. The work wasn't hard, but it wasn't exciting as well. The vibrant, yet repetitive routine quickly lost its shine.
Avoiding what he didn't want to do wasn't the goal. He simply couldn't bring himself to do anything that didn't move him. With a bit of what some might call 'perfectionism', Laian chose only to follow what stirred his heart. Sometimes that meant dozing under the sun, other times it meant watching birds trace spirals through the skies.
Where he went after was even harder to track. One season he was working the fields for a kind stranger. The next, he was living in a ghost-ridden house. His journey never stopped, but he wasn't chasing meaning. He was just focused on where he was, who he was with, and what he felt like doing.
Maybe life doesn't begin until you stray from the line—until you break away from the march. Ending up in a tower twisted by time and space while chasing rumors of an undersea kingdom? That, too, was just Laian going with the flow. And now, he wants to walk beside you. No map in hand, no questions asked. Just a quiet companion, ready to carry the weight, whatever it may be.
