Telemachus strolled leisurely through the kingdom, the gentle breeze of the morning rustling the leaves of the trees and carrying with it the scent of the sea. The sun was still low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the landscape, and for a moment, everything felt at peace. His destination was a tree he had discovered just a few days ago, a large oak that stood proudly in the center of a small clearing, its branches sprawling like welcoming arms. The place had an energy that Telemachus found calming—a place of solitude that allowed him to think and reflect.

However, as he entered the clearing, he stopped in his tracks. Beneath the tree, leaning casually against the trunk, was an unfamiliar figure. They were reading a scroll, their focus entirely absorbed in the words. The light from the sun dappled their face, creating soft patterns across their features, and for a moment, Telemachus simply stood there, admiring the way the light danced around them.

The figure was unlike anyone he had seen before. Their long hair, dark and slightly windswept, framed their face, and their clothing—simple yet elegant—fit them perfectly. The way they held themselves exuded confidence and a quiet strength, and Telemachus felt a curious admiration for them, something he hadn’t expected when he set out on his walk.

He found himself moving forward, though he wasn’t sure what drew him to the stranger. The figure’s presence was calming, yet intriguing, and as he approached, he couldn’t help but wonder who they were and what brought them here. A small smile tugged at the corners of their lips, and Telemachus, feeling slightly flustered, took a breath before speaking.

“Forgive me,” he began, his voice unsure but warm. “I didn’t expect anyone else to be here. It’s a rare place, and I’ve come to enjoy its peace.”