Elyas Cuayamani

Backstory
Born into a really closed community, Elyas was the only child of Diana and Reuben Hodge, a couple of ancient artifact dealers. Due to the nature of their work, they never stayed in the same place for long, going away for months and staying in different homes, taverns or inns on the different places they visited and only returning to their hometown rarely to restock on their merchandise. Instead of leaving Elyas at home being cared for by his grandparents and uncles, his parents opted for taking him wherever they went, they thought that Elyas could grow more educated, experiencing the world instead of confining him to their small community.

And thus, Elyas grew up really close to his parents, his mother would teach him how to speak and write, while his father encouraged him to read and the social norms of etiquette, by age 10 he was an avid reader and would be in the process of learning two other languages that his parents spoke. As a child he didn’t have a lot of chance to form long lasting relationships, he could spend months at one place and leave one day almost unexpectedly; the friends he made during these times almost often he never met again. It was really hard for him the first couple of times, and eventually he resigned himself only to form superficial/transactional relationships and spending time in the local library reading and keeping up with his journal. He never blamed his parents for this, he genuinely enjoyed their trade and was passionate about the pursuit of knowledge. Thanks to his education, by the time his teenage years came by, he enthusiastically started helping his parents with their work, often translating or researching on the artifacts they would encounter; that allowed them to stay longer at certain destinations where the cultural scene was more prolific. He was also already seen by a gentleman type, we would always be well dressed and be very polite to anyone and everyone that crossed his path; however, he would often be awkward and socially inept, disregarding or not even noticing social cues when it came to people trying to get closer to him, being a bit oblivious to platonic or romantic advances. Either way, Elyas wasn’t really interested in relationships as a whole, he saw them as fleeting and temporary. However, that would change at age eighteen.

Elyas had a hard time figuring out his feelings for others, when he was seventeen, he met another boy, Gĩtari, during his stay in one country, the workload at that time was significantly better for him and his parents and thus stayed over a year. Elyas and Gĩtari would often hang around each other and make company to one another; whether it was in the library, at the docks or at the park, Elyas would often be reading, and his companion would be right beside him, bugging Elyas, telling him to teach him about what he was reading, and so forth. Elyas was happy to. He didn’t know at the time, but he was growing to catch feelings for him.

When he turned eighteen, he was greeted by Gĩtari with a bouquet of flowers, Elyas was shocked to say the least, nothing he had read had prepared him for that scenario, but eventually, and probably thanks to a miracle, the logical side of his brain shut off, allowing him and his new partner to be more affectionate and to live that event of their lives how a regular couple would.

Taken away.
Elyas had just celebrated his nineteenth birthday amidst his family home, a modest cabin his parents had built with years of hard work and dedication. It was a symbol of their success, a tangible representation of their journey from their nomadic line of work to the comfortable life they now enjoyed. Elyas, their only son, was the center of their universe, his achievements and happiness paramount to their own. That was until the day they discovered his secret. The revelation came as a shock, tearing through the fabric of their family with the force of a hurricane. Elyas, who had always been open with his parents, had kept this one part of his life hidden, fearing their reaction. His relationship with Gĩtari, his closest friend turned partner, was something he cherished deeply but also something he knew his parents would never accept. One evening, after Elyas had gone out, claiming he was meeting friends, his mother found a letter on his desk, accidentally left behind. The letter was from Gĩtari, filled with words of love and plans for the future. The discovery led to a confrontation that would change the course of Elyas' life forever.

"Elyas, how could you do this to us?" his mother's voice trembled with a mixture of anger, betrayal, and sadness as she confronted him the next morning. Elyas had never seen her so distraught.

"Mother, I can explain…" Elyas replied, his voice steady but his hands shaking.

His father, a tall, stoic man, known for his pragmatic approach to life, stood in silence, his jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck taut with barely contained rage.

"This is not how we raised you," his father finally spoke, each word laced with disappointment. "We gave you everything, hoping you'd carry on the family name, not shame it."

Elyas felt as if the ground had been swept from under him. "Father please, I did nothing wrong."

His mother's eyes filled with tears, her voice breaking as she said, "But you did, Elyas. It changes everything. How do you expect us to face our friends, our family? You have to understand, this goes against everything we believe in."

In the days that followed, the atmosphere in the house grew increasingly cold. Conversations were curt, meals taken in silence. Elyas' parents made the decision to move him to his grandparents' farm, a place far removed from the life he knew, hoping the distance and hard work would 'correct' him. The departure was swift and brutal. Elyas's protests were met with silence or harsh words, his tearful goodbyes to his home and his secret love ignored. His parents packed their belongings and his, treating him more like a prisoner than their son. "Elyas, please try to understand, we're doing this for your own good," his mother said as they approached the dock, the early morning mist clinging to their clothes, making everything seem unreal. "How is taking me away from my home, my life, for my own good?" Elyas answered, the sense of betrayal and heartbreak evident in his voice. "How can you say you love me and do this to me!?"

The journey to the farm was long and silent, each mile widening the chasm between them. His father remained silent, his gaze fixed on the horizon, as if unable to face his son. The journey to his grandparents' farm was a blur to Elyas. He felt numb, disconnected from the world around him. Upon arrival, his grandparents, unaware of the true reason behind his sudden appearance, welcomed him with open arms. His grandfather, a robust man in his late sixties, quickly put him to work on the farm. At the Hodge residence, Elyas was thrust into a life completely foreign to him. His days were consumed by manual labor, his hands becoming calloused from the toil of planting, watering, and harvesting. The work was grueling, but it was the isolation and the severance from his former life that wore heavily on him. Elyas's mental health began to fray at the edges, the joy and vibrancy that once defined him dimming with each passing day.

Nights were the hardest. Elyas would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, memories of his former life playing like a movie in his mind. He missed his friends, his love, and the freedom to be who he was without judgment or condemnation. Tears would often stain his pillow, the only outlet for his grief and frustration.

Escaping the Hodge estate.
Elyas had been at his grandparents' farm for close to a year, a year that felt both fleeting and interminable. In that time, his cousin Akia became more than just family; she became his confidant, the sole keeper of his truths and pains. It was during the late evenings, during casual visits, that Elyas shared the depths of his despair with Akia, detailing not just the relationship that led to his exile but the profound loneliness and isolation he felt being so far removed from his true self.

"I feel like I'm fading away here, Akia," Elyas confessed one evening, his voice barely above a whisper as they sat beneath the ancient oak that stood as a silent sentinel over the farm. "I don't understand why they did this, why they hate me so much, but I just know that every day feels like a little more of me disappears." Akia, her heart aching for her cousin, nodded in understanding. "I know, Elyas. I see it in you, the way you've changed. But you shouldn't have to erase who you are for anyone. Not even your parents." It was then that Akia began to devise a plan, a daring escape that would free Elyas from the confines of the farm and allow him to begin anew, far from the judgmental eyes of those who failed to understand him. The plan was risky, fraught with uncertainty, but the alternative, watching Elyas wither away under the weight of his sadness was something Akia could not bear.

"Akia, are you sure about this?" Elyas asked, skepticism and hope mingling in his eyes as she outlined her plan. "Escaping in the middle of the night? It sounds like a stretch to me." Akia responded with a grin, her confidence unshakeable. "Sometimes, life needs a bit of stretch, cousin. We'll need to be quiet, quick, and clever, but I've thought it through. We'll use the cover of night, take the old path through the woods to avoid being seen. I've saved up some silver, and with what we have, it should be enough for passage on a ship." "But what about you? What will you tell everyone when they find out I'm gone?" Elyas's concern for Akia was evident, even as the glimmer of a plan sparked a flicker of hope within him. "I'll handle our grandparents. I'll say you went to clear your head, needed some time away. They worry, but they also know how heavy this life has been on you. By the time anyone thinks to look for you at the docks, you'll be long gone, sailing towards a new horizon," Akia assured him, her determination steeling her cousin's resolve.

The night of their plan was cloaked in darkness, the moon a slender crescent barely lighting their path. Elyas and Akia moved with practiced silence, their steps familiar with the terrain of the farm they had both grown up on. As they neared the dock, the reality of their actions settled heavily on Elyas's shoulders. "Akia, I... I don't know how to thank you. For believing in me, for doing all of this," Elyas whispered, his voice choked with emotion as they paused at the edge of the dock. Akia wrapped him in a tight hug, a fierce protector to the end. "Don't thank me. Just promise me you'll find happiness, Elyas. Live your truth, and never look back." The farewell was a blur of tears and whispered promises, a moment suspended in time that would forever mark the turning point in Elyas's life. Boarding the ship, Elyas cast one last look back at the silhouette of his cousin, a lone figure standing steadfast on the dock.

As the ship pulled away, Elyas felt the weight of his past slowly lifting, replaced by a burgeoning sense of freedom and the unknown possibilities that lay ahead. His heart was heavy with the pain of parting but also buoyant with the hope for the future. Akia's love and bravery had gifted him a second chance, and as the shoreline faded into the distance, Elyas made a silent vow to seize this new life with both hands, to live openly and fearlessly, no matter where his journey might lead.

Finding Mr. Cuayamani.
Elyas's first few hours aboard the ship were a blur of excitement and trepidation. As the coastline disappeared into the dark horizon, he felt a profound sense of liberation, intertwined with moments of fear about the uncertainty of his future. Eventually, exhaustion took over, and he found a somewhat secluded spot on the deck, curling up as best he could to shield himself from the chilly sea breeze. The rhythmic lulling of the waves soon sent him into a deep sleep, one that was much needed after the emotional turmoil of the past few days. His peaceful slumber was abruptly ended by a sharp kick to his side. Elyas jolted awake, gasping for air, his eyes meeting the scornful gaze of a burly sailor. "Up with ye! This ain't no place for lounging," the sailor growled, his voice gruff with annoyance. Elyas scrambled to his feet, arranging his spectacles and clutching his small briefcase close to his chest. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean any harm. I just needed somewhere to rest," he stammered, trying to mask his discomfort.The sailor sneered, unimpressed. "Well, ye found the wrong place. Off with ye, before I decide to make yer swim part of yer passage." With a not-so-gentle shove, Elyas was ushered off the ship the moment it docked, finding himself alone on a foreign dock just as the first light of dawn began to break the horizon. The town ahead was unfamiliar, a collection of buildings of varying sizes and states of repair. Despite his uncertainty, Elyas pushed forward, driven by a mixture of determination and the absence of any other option.

As he wandered through the streets, his gaze was drawn to a modest yet sizable building with a large sign proclaiming "The Antique Compass." Something about it called to him, perhaps a sense of familiarity in the midst of so much that was foreign. Pushing open the door, he was greeted by the sight of shelves laden with ancient artifacts, walls adorned with maps of forgotten worlds, and the scent of old books, a comforting smell that reminded him of a life he once had. Behind the counter stood an elderly man, his hair a crown of silver, eyes bright with a spark of curiosity as he regarded Elyas. This was Mr. Izel Cuayamani, the proprietor of The Antique Compass. "Good morning, young fox. What brings you to my humble establishment?" Mr. Cuayamani inquired, his voice warm and inviting. Elyas hesitated for a moment, then decided to be honest. "Honestly, I'm not entirely sure. I've just arrived in town, and something about your shop caught my eye, and sorry for the confusion, but I am in fact a maned wolf." he admitted.

Mr. Cuayamani smiled, a gentle, knowing smile. "Well, my apologies, young canine friend. Perhaps there's something here that's waiting for you. Feel free to look around. If you have any questions, I am at your service." As Elyas explored the shop, he felt a sense of peace envelop him. Each artifact, each book, seemed to whisper stories of ages past, of civilizations and cultures that had once flourished and faded away. It was here, amid the relics of history, that Elyas found a reminder to something larger than himself, a reminder of the lifehis parents have taken awy from him. Eventually, Elyas and Mr. Cuayamani struck up a conversation, one that meandered from the mundane to the philosophical. Elyas shared his story, the pain of rejection, the journey that had brought him to this place, albeit leaving out the details of his relationship that had caused the rift with his family. Mr. Cuayamani listened with a compassionate ear, offering words of encouragement and wisdom. "Life is often like the artifacts in this shop, young man. We carry the marks of our past, but it's how we choose to shape our future that truly defines us." Moved by Elyas's passion for history and his evident need for guidance, Mr. Cuayamani made an offer that would change the course of Elyas's life. "I am in need of an assistant, someone to help me catalog new acquisitions and manage the shop. It's not much, but it's honest work. What do you say?" Elyas was taken aback. The offer was unexpected, yet it felt like the lifeline he so desperately needed. "I... I would be honored, Mr. Cuayamani. Thank you, truly."

And so, Elyas began a new chapter of his life at The Antique Compass, under the tutelage of Mr. Cuayamani. In the artifacts and tomes that surrounded him, he found not just a job, but a purpose, and in Mr. Cuayamani, not just an employer, but a mentor and a fatherly figure who helped him navigate the complexities of life and identity. In the heart of an unknown town, within the walls of a shop filled with the echoes of history, Elyas discovered a place where he could belong, where he could grow, and where, eventually, he could heal.

An errand that changed everything.
Over the course of nearly two years, Elyas and Mr. Cuayamani had forged a bond that went far beyond the confines of The Antique Compass and the artifacts that filled its shelves. Elyas, now approaching his twenty-first birthday, had grown under the tutelage of Mr. Cuayamani, not only in his knowledge of history and anthropology but also in understanding the nuances of life. However, as Elyas's knowledge and confidence grew, so did the shadows of concern for Mr. Cuayamani's health, which seemed to be in a gentle yet persistent decline. It was an ordinary morning when the life took a torun for the odd pairing. As they were preparing breakfast, a routine that had become a cherished part of their daily life, Mr. Cuayamani collapsed. The mug he'd been holding shattered on the floor. Elyas's reaction was immediate. Pushing the table aside, he rushed to Mr. Cuayamani's side, his heart racing with fear. "Mr. Cuayamani!" he cried out, gently lifting the older man into his arms and carrying him to the sofa in the office room. He quickly attended to the wound on Mr. Cuayamani's head, his hands trembling as he dabbed at the wound with a handkerchief soaked in alcohol. Hours seemed to stretch into eternity as Elyas sat by Mr. Cuayamani's side, waiting for any sign of consciousness.

When Mr. Cuayamani finally stirred, the relief that washed over Elyas was palpable. Tears streamed down his face as he embraced his mentor, only to be met with a gentle but firm voice. "Elyas, my boy, listen to me," Mr. Cuayamani said, his voice weak but filled with an undeniable strength of spirit. "I have something important to tell you. My heart... it's not been strong for some time now. The doctors... they've told me there's not much time left”. Elyas's heart sank. "No, there must be something we can do." he protested, his voice a mix of despair and denial. Mr. Cuayamani shook his head, a sad smile on his lips. ''"No, my time is coming to an end. But there's one last thing I need from you, Elyas.”, " "Anything." Elyas responded without hesitation, his commitment unwavering. "On the banks of the river, I buried a small box many years ago. Inside is a gold brooch that belonged to my dear wife. It's the last piece of her I have. I want you to have it, Elyas. Will you retrieve it for me?" Elyas nodded, a solemn vow in his eyes. "I'll find it, Mr. Cuayamani. I promise."'' With those words, Elyas set out, driven by a sense of purpose and a deep desire to fulfill Mr. Cuayamani's last wish.

The search was long and arduous, but Elyas's determination did not waver. Finally, after hours of searching, his hands uncovered a small, worn box. Inside, the gold brooch glimmered in the sunlight, a testament to a love that had transcended time. Rushing back to The Antique Compass, Elyas's heart was heavy with a mixture of anticipation and dread. The moment he entered, reality crashed down upon him. Mr. Cuayamani had passed away, his once vibrant spirit now at peace. Overwhelmed by grief, Elyas knelt beside his mentor, crying tears of loss and gratitude. When his sobs had subsided, he noticed a letter on the table next to the sofa. With trembling hands, he opened it, Mr. Cuayamani's familiar handwriting greeting him: My Dearest Elyas,

''If you are reading this, then the inevitable has come to pass, and I have embarked on the greatest journey of all, into the unknown that lies beyond this life. I find myself at a loss for words, not for the lack of them, but because no combination of letters could ever truly convey the depth of gratitude, pride, and love I have come to feel for you, my boy. When you walked into my life, a lost soul seeking refuge in the dusty corners of The Antique Compass, I saw in you a kindred spirit, a flame flickering against the dark, threatening to be snuffed out by the harsh winds of the world. Yet, with each passing day, I watched that flame grow stronger, fueled by your resilience, your passion, and your boundless curiosity. You reminded me of the joy found in discovery, of the thrill that comes from unearthing stories long buried and bringing them into the light. Elyas, in you, I found not just an assistant, but a son. Your presence breathed new life into my old bones, giving me purpose when I thought it had all but faded. You have been my confidant, my apprentice, and my greatest joy. It is a rare gift to find someone who shares one's passions, and rarer still to find someone who rekindles them. I leave to you The Antique Compass, not as a burden, but as a legacy. It is more than a shop; it is a portal to the past, a keeper of secrets, and now, it is yours. Within its walls, you will find not just artifacts and antiquities, but stories waiting to be told, histories longing to be shared. I trust you will continue our work, preserving these tales and, in doing so, keeping alive the memory of those who came before us. But do not let the shop become your world. I implore you to explore, to travel, and to seek out the mysteries that lie waiting beyond the horizon. The world is a vast tapestry of culture, history, and beauty, and you have but scratched the surface. Go where your heart leads you, for it is in the journey that we truly find ourselves. And so, I leave you all that I have, all that I am. The collection, the books, they are yours now, to care for and to grow. I ask only that you remember the lessons we shared, and that you pass them on when the time comes. Lastly, Elyas, know this: in my eyes, you are a Cuayamani. You have shown the strength, the integrity, and the compassion that I always believed would have defined my family. You have earned your place not by blood, but by heart. Wear the brooch not as a reminder of me, but as a symbol of your belonging to a lineage of seekers, of guardians of history. Let it guide you as you forge your path, as you write your own story. My time may have come to an end, but yours is just beginning. Be brave, my boy. Seek out the light in the darkness, the truth in the midst of uncertainty, and know that I am with you, in spirit and in love, every step of the way. With all my heart,''

Izel Cuayamani As Elyas finished reading the letter, the weight of his emotions pressed heavily upon him. The paper, now slightly wrinkled from his tears, seemed to hold the very essence of Mr. Cuayamani, his kindness, his wisdom, and the immense trust he had placed in Elyas. It was a tangible connection to the man who had become his mentor, his confidant, and, in the truest sense, his family. Standing in the quiet of the shop, Elyas felt a profound sense of loss intertwined with a fierce determination. Mr. Cuayamani had seen something in him, something that perhaps Elyas himself had not recognized until now. He was not just a caretaker of artifacts; he was a guardian of history, a storyteller, and a bridge to the past for those who sought to understand it. With gentle resolve, Elyas picked up the gold brooch, its surface catching the light and glimmering with a warmth that seemed to echo the love and respect Mr. Cuayamani had for his wife, and now, for Elyas. Fastening the brooch around his neck, he felt a surge of connection to his adoptive father, to the legacy he had been entrusted with. It was more than a piece of jewelry; it was a symbol of the bond they shared, of the journey Elyas had embarked upon since that fateful night he fled his old life.

In that moment, Elyas Hodge shed the last remnants of his former identity, embracing the name and the legacy of Elyas Cuayamani. It was a name that carried the weight of responsibility, of honor, and of a promise to continue the work that Mr. Cuayamani had dedicated his life to. Elyas Cuayamani would not only preserve the history and artifacts that filled The Antique Compass but would also seek to expand his understanding, to explore the world, and to bring back stories that would enlighten and inspire others. Elyas Cuayamani was ready to embark on this new chapter of his life, carrying with him the lessons learned and the love received from the man who had changed his life forever. With the brooch as his talisman, Elyas stepped forward, not away from his past, but towards a future that he would shape with the same courage, compassion, and curiosity that had been instilled in him by his mentor, his friend, his adoptive father: Mr. Izel Cuayamani.

Recognized by a pirate.
Elyas took the letter left to him by his mentor and foster father to heart; He couldn't believe it but Izel had restored the life he always knew, traveling the world, learning about new cultures and stories and collecting artifacts from lost civilizations. He felt strange, it was like when he was traveling with his parents when he was a pup. With determination and a revived spirit, he decided to head to the port, surely he could convince some sailor to sneak aboard for his next destination. Elyas stood at the bustling dock, his eyes scanning the horizon before settling on a sight that piqued his interest: a sleek, narrow ship by the name of "Amaranthia". Its crew was a flurry of activity, moving cargo with an efficiency that spoke of long months at sea and countless journeys. Elyas felt a flicker of recognition at the sight, a sense of déjà vu that he couldn't quite place.

As he took a step closer, lost in thought and curiosity, he barely registered the presence behind him until a firm hand landed on his shoulder, spinning him around. He found himself face to face with a canine pirate, shorter in stature but radiating an aura of command and caution. "Oi, what's yer business here, ey? Ye seem mighty interested in me ship," the pirate said, his gaze sharp, scrutinizing Elyas from head to toe. Elyas, taken aback but quick to recover, responded with a calmness he didn't fully feel. "My apologies, sir. I was merely admiring your vessel. It's quite the sight. I'm a simple traveler, and I find myself in need of passage. Might you be the captain of this fine ship?" The pirate's eyes narrowed, but a hint of curiosity crept into his gaze. "Aye, that I am. Captain Jay Avalon at yer service. And what makes ye think I'd be willin' to take on a passenger, especially one that comes sneakin' about?" Elyas met Captain Avalon's challenge with a respectful nod. "I assure you, my intentions are honorable. I'm a scholar, you see, I make my living by gathering artifacts from palces around the world. I can pay for my passage, and I'm willing to work for it, too. How does two hundred pieces of silver sound?"

Captain Avalon studied Elyas for a moment longer, the wheels clearly turning in his head. Then, a slow grin spread across his face. "Two hundred silver, ye say? And willing to work for yer keep? Ha! I admire yer spirit. It's not every day I meet a scholar with the guts to negotiate with a sailor like me self. Very well, ye have yerself a deal. But be warned, life aboard the Amaranthia ain't for the faint of heart." Elyas breathed a sigh of relief, the tension easing from his shoulders. "Thank you, Captain Avalon. I assure you, I'm no stranger to hard work. And who knows? Perhaps my knowledge of history and cultures can be of use to you and your crew." Captain Avalon chuckled, a sound that seemed to carry both amusement and a hint of respect. "We'll see about that. Welcome aboard the Amaranthia. But mark me words, any funny business, and ye'll find yerself swimmin' with the sharks." Elyas nodded, understanding the seriousness of the captain's words. "Understood, Captain. You have my word."

As Elyas boarded the ship, Captain Avalon watched him with a thoughtful expression. Something about the maned wolf felt familiar. Shaking off the feeling, the captain turned back to his crew, barking orders as the Amaranthia prepared to set sail. Elyas found himself a quiet spot on deck, his mind racing with the possibilities this journey held. He was on his way to new lands, ready to uncover the secrets of the past and contribute to knowledge he was eager to keep. And as the ship pulled away from the dock, Elyas couldn't help but feel that this was exactly where he was meant to be, aboard the Amaranthia, under the command of Captain Avalon. Under the cloak of night, with the Amaranthia cutting silently through the calm sea, Elyas stood on the deck, mesmerized by the tranquil waters and the luminous moon overhead. His peaceful contemplation was interrupted when a sailor approached, a message at hand. "Captain Avalon requests your presence in his chambers, mister", the sailor said with a tone that brooked no delay.

With a mix of curiosity and trepidation, Elyas made his way to the captain's quarters. He knocked gently on the sturdy door, calling out, ''"Captain Avalon, you wished to see me?" "Enter,"'' came the charismatic response from within. As Elyas stepped into the room, he noted Captain Avalon's casual pose, one leg propped on the desk. Yet, upon his entry, the captain adopted a grave demeanor, motioning for Elyas to take a seat. The atmosphere in the room thickened as Captain Avalon began to pace slowly around Elyas, much like a predator assessing its prey. "So, I didn't quite snag yer name, would ye mind sharin' it with me?” the captain queried, his voice a blend of courtesy and underlying ferocity.

"Yes Captain, Elyas Cuayamani at your service," he replied promptly, trying to maintain his composure under the captain's scrutinizing gaze. Captain Avalon paused, a look of realization dawning on his face. "Cuayamani, eh? A far cry from Hodge. Reuben and Diana Hodge... I know 'em well. Used to do some work for 'em, back when. Even knew a wee lad named Elyas. Couldn't be the same one, could it?" Elyas felt a chill run down his spine, the air suddenly heavy with tension. The coincidence was too great, the connection too direct. "Yes," Elyas admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I am their son."

In an instant, Captain Avalon was upon him, swiftly turning Elyas's chair to face him and gripping his shoulders. Elyas braced himself for the worst, but instead of hostility, he found himself enveloped in a warm, tight hug. "By the stars above, lad! To think I'd find Reuben and Diana's boy out here, in the middle of the ocean!" Captain Avalon exclaimed, a genuine joy in his voice. "Your folks told me when ye went missing. It's a small world, indeed." Elyas, still reeling from the surprise, relaxed into the embrace, a sense of relief washing over him. "I never expected... Thank you, Captain. It's been a long journey." As they settled down with jars of Cider between them, the initial awkwardness gave way to a night filled with stories. Elyas recounted everything; his heartbreak, his time at the farm, his escape, and how he came to inherit The Antique Compass and the legacy of Mr. Cuayamani.

Captain Avalon listened intently, his expression shifting from surprise to admiration. "Elyas, my boy, ye've lived more life in these few years than most do in a lifetime. It's an honor to have ye aboard the Amaranthia. "To new beginnings," Elyas toasted, the cider warming him from the inside out. "To new beginnings, and to the unpredictable sea that brings old friends together," Captain Avalon echoed, clinking his jar against Elyas's. That night, under the watchful gaze of the moon, a bond was forged on the deck of the Amaranthia, one of unexpected friendship, shared pasts, and hopeful futures. Elyas had found a piece of his past in the most unlikely of places, and with it, the promise of many adventures to come.

After months of sailing under the command of Captain Avalon, the Amaranthia approached its next port of call. The atmosphere on the ship was one of anticipation, at least for Elyas, who had been informed by Jay that their destination was near the ruins of a citadel lost to time. This news had kindled a fire in Elyas's heart, for it aligned perfectly with his quest to uncover artifacts and histories long forgotten. To pass the time and prepare for whatever might lie ahead, Jay took it upon himself to teach Elyas the art of firing the flintlock musket. Standing on the deck with the vast ocean as their backdrop, Jay demonstrated the process with the patience and precision of a seasoned teacher. "Now, Elyas, hold it steady. Aye, just like that. Now, breathe in... and when you exhale, gently squeeze the trigger," Jay instructed, watching as Elyas aimed at a target they had set up. Elyas followed the instructions, and to Jay's astonishment, his first shot rang true, striking the target dead center. "Bullseye! By the gods, Elyas, you've a natural talent, despite those bad eyes of yours," Jay exclaimed, clapping him on the back with a mixture of surprise and pride. Elyas, pleased yet humble, simply smiled. "Thank you, Jay. You're an excellent teacher."

As the Amaranthia neared the port, the excitement aboard was palpable. Elyas's mind was filled with thoughts of the upcoming adventure, eager to delve into the ruins and unearth their secrets. Jay, meanwhile, oversaw the crew as they prepared to dock, shouting orders with the authority and confidence of a captain well-versed in his trade. When the time came to disembark, Jay pulled Elyas aside, presenting him with the musket he had learned to shoot so well and a machete with a keen edge. "Elyas, these are for you. The world's a dangerous place, and I wouldn't have you stepping into it unarmed." Elyas accepted the gifts, a sense of gratitude swelling within him. "Jay, I don't know what to say. Thank you, truly. These will be invaluable to me." Jay clasped Elyas's shoulder, looking him squarely in the eye. ''"Just promise me you'll take care of yourself, lad. And remember, no matter where you go, the Amaranthia will always be a home to you." "I promise, Mr. Avalon. And thank you, for everything,"'' Elyas replied, his voice thick with emotion. The two men shared a firm handshake, a gesture that spoke volumes of the respect and friendship that had formed between them. With the musket strapped to his back and the machete at his hip, Elyas stepped off the ship and onto the bustling dock. He turned back to wave at Jay and the crew of the "Amaranthia," a sense of determination burning bright within him. Ahead lay the city and beyond that, the ruins of the citadel, waiting to reveal their secrets to those brave enough to seek them out.

Elyas walked towards his calling, the weight of the musket and machete a comforting reminder of the journey he had undertaken and the friendship he had reformed. With every step, he carried with him the lessons of the past and the hopes for the future, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead in his quest to uncover the stories of lost civilizations and to make his mark on the world.

Meeting the special one.
Elyas's journey into the dense forest on the outskirts of the city had been marked by a blend of excitement and apprehension, the latter growing as the path became increasingly treacherous and his supplies dwindled to nothing. His lack of preparation caught up with him sooner than he expected, his body succumbing to exhaustion and dehydration, eventually collapsing under the weight of his own ambition. When his consciousness briefly flickered back to him, he noticed movement, someone, or something, was dragging him. The fear and confusion mingled with his fading awareness, leaving him to the mercy of the unknown.

Awakening later in the dim light of a cave, the warmth of a nearby fire tugging at his senses, Elyas found himself disoriented but alive. His belongings were neatly placed beside him, and at the center of the cave, a figure moved with purpose. The aroma filling the air was unexpectedly comforting, a stark contrast to his harrowing experience. As his eyes adjusted, he realized the figure was a ram, an unlikely savior, tending to a pot over the fire. The ram noticed Elyas's awakening and approached with a bowl of the stew he'd been cooking. "Feeling better?" the ram asked, his voice carrying the distinctive lilt of a distinct accent, each word deliberate and to the point.

Elyas, still gathering his bearings, nodded, accepting the bowl with a murmur of gratitude. ''"Yes, thank you. I... I don't know what happened." "Fainted,"'' the ram replied simply, sitting across from Elyas with an air of casual observance. "How did you find me?" Elyas inquired, curiosity mingling with his gratitude. "Heard you fall," the ram said, gesturing vaguely towards the forest that lay beyond the cave's entrance. "Brought you here." Elyas took a moment to process this, the realization that this ram had saved him from a potentially fatal situation dawning on him. "I'm in your debt. My name's Elyas. May I ask yours?" The ram paused, as if considering whether the information was necessary, before responding, "Mjúkur." "Mjúkur," Elyas repeated, trying to commit the name to memory. "Thank you, Mjúkur. I can't believe I was so careless."

"Water?" Mjúkur offered next, a one-word question that encompassed both an offer and a reminder of Elyas's initial folly. "Yes, please. I forgot to bring any with me," Elyas admitted sheepishly, accepting the water Mjúkur provided. "I didn't expect the journey to be so...intense." Mjúkur merely nodded, a gesture that Elyas interpreted as an acknowledgment of his statement, perhaps even an understanding of the tendency to underestimate nature.

As they shared the meal, the conversation remained minimal, Mjúkur’s responses brief yet somehow comforting in their simplicity. Elyas, for his part, was content to listen, to learn from this unexpected guardian whose actions spoke volumes more than words could ever convey. In the safety of the cave, with the fire crackling and the night outside holding its breath, Elyas found a moment of peace. Here, with Mjúkur, he was reminded of the unexpected kindness the world could offer, the strength found in quiet solidarity, and the universal language of care that transcended species.

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