Arik sat by the orphanage window, watching as the rain pelted against it, making trails and forking together in miniature rivers down the glass. The rain calmed him, even though he knew he should be nervous, considering what the day held for him.
Beside him on the bed sat his cloak and suitcase, packed with his only belongings - a spare tunic, a little wooden horse that was missing an ear, and two books; one entitled A Dream of Sovngarde that he'd found, half water-logged in the grass beside The Bannered Mare, and the second entitled The Way of the Voice.
The second book was all that he had left of his father, whom he'd been told had once been employed by the Greybeards to climb the 7,000 steps to High Hrothgar twice a month and deliver supplies. Arik's mother had died while giving him life, and no more than a year later, his father had been killed by a Frost Troll on his way up the steps. Arik had been in the orphanage ever since.
"Arik! Arik, they're here!" A girl of no more than 11 slid into the room in a jumble of blonde curls, dirty slippers, and a dress two sizes too big. She hurried towards him, stopping at the edge of the bed. Her face was flushed and her blue eyes glittered with excitement.
"Hi Syra." Arik patted her on the head and stood up, taking his suitcase and cloak from the bed.
"Are you scared?" She asked him, taking hold of his hand and looking up at him earnestly.
Arik couldn't help but smile at her. "Only a little." He winked.
"Ljorn says that its a big horror to be taught by the Greybeards." She said anxiously as they walked towards the door.
"Not horror, Syra! He said honour." Arik chuckled. "It's an honour."
"Oh. Right." She giggled back, but fell silent when they entered the other room. A tall Nord man with a knotted blonde beard stood with Gretna, the woman who ran the orphanage. Her tight lipped expression was ever the same as it has always been.
"Arik, this is Klimmek. He's been sent by the Greybeards to collect you." Gretna explained. She passed him a small bundle. "There's some lunch in there for your journey."
He nodded his thanks and turned his attention to Klimmek.
"Hello." The man said, offering his hand to Arik, who had to shake free from Syra in order to shake it. "Are you ready?"
Arik swallowed the lump in his throat. "Yes, sir."
Klimmek smiled. "Good, my cart is just outside." He pushed open the door.
Once outside, Klimmek took his suitcase and lunch bundle and stowed them in the back of the cart.
Syra launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist. More of the children from the orphanage gathered as well, many of them coming forward saying their goodbyes and giving Arik a hug.
Once the children had dispersed, Syra was all that remained. He wasn't sure why, but Syra and he had always had a far greater connection than any of the other children.
"Happy Birthday, Arik." She mumbled into his shirt.
"Thanks, Syra. I'll miss you."
"You too." She looked up at him, and he saw she was crying. He wiped the tears from her face and leaned down to kiss her head.
"I'll write you." He promised, disentangling himself and pulling on his cloak. Without looking back, he climbed onto the front bench of the cart beside Klimmek.
"Its your birthday, is it?" Klimmek asked, flicking the reins to get his old horse to start moving. "How old are you?"
"Sixteen, sir."
The man nodded thoughtfully, and when he spoke, the words were slow and Arik felt a chill creep up his spine. "It almost seems like a waste."
Unsure what the words meant, Arik remained silent.
This is just the prologue. A new, full chapter will be out soon! Thank you for reading. :)