Relief

Relief

He followed the river until he reached an even wider, swampy lagoon where the water lay dark and perfectly still beneath the evening sky. Thick reeds, tangled vines, and towering trees surrounded the quiet pool, their reflections barely disturbed upon its glass-like surface. Dragonflies drifted lazily through the warm air, while unseen creatures rustled softly among the reeds. It was alive with hidden life yet peaceful beyond words.

This would be the perfect place to release the little fesealon. The water was calm, sheltered from the crashing sea, and rich with food. Here it could rest, recover, and one day find its way back to its family.

Kneeling carefully beside the muddy bank, Zelnard lowered the tiny creature into the cool water. The little fesealon hesitated, its small front legs pressing uncertainly into the soft mud as it looked back toward the boy who had carried it so far.

Did it understand that he was trying to help?

Zelnard held his breath.

After a long moment, the little creature seemed to make up its mind. It slipped quietly into the water and began paddling away, its tiny body gliding through the dark lagoon with surprising grace. Within seconds it disappeared beneath the surface, swallowed by the shadows below.

For the first time in many months, Zelnard felt a flicker of peace.

The sun had begun to sink low in the sky, painting the still water with ribbons of gold and amber. Yet as the light faded, Zelnard became aware once again of how completely alone he was. It was not simply the loneliness of standing beside an empty river. It was a deeper feeling, as though he were the dark sky stretching silently between distant stars.

Then gentle ripples disturbed the surface.

Two tiny nostrils broke through the water for a quick breath before disappearing again beneath the surface. Smiling, Zelnard watched the little fesealon wobble clumsily through the shallows toward an insect resting upon the water, completely unaware of its place in the food chain.

Plop.

The insect vanished.

A strange little sound escaped Zelnard's throat—a quiet "gnumph" of delight—and before he realised it, a genuine smile spread across his usually solemn face. His tiny friend had found its first meal.

For the first time since arriving at the monastery, Zelnard felt something he had almost forgotten.

He had helped someone weaker than himself.

And somehow, that made his own heart feel a little stronger. Perhaps heroism was not always found in great battles or mighty deeds. Perhaps it began with small acts of kindness, offered to those who could never repay them. The little fesealon would never know his name, but somehow that made the gift feel even more meaningful.

As the evening breeze stirred the reeds around him, Zelnard rose to his feet, brushed the sand from his cloak, and quietly began the long walk back toward the monastery with hope carrying him more lightly than his feet ever could.

Thy Quests
Helping others doesn't always require a grand adventure. Sometimes even the smallest act of kindness can change someone's day. Write about a time when you helped another person or animal without expecting anything in return. How did it make you feel afterwards?