The sun rose over the quiet village of Verdanthollow, casting golden light over a world not yet touched by war, betrayal, or death. Birds sang their lazy tunes in the treetops. Morning dew clung to blades of grass like little diamonds. Life here was simple, peaceful—and for young Cael Dray, it was home.
In the clearing behind their cottage, the clash of steel broke the stillness.
"Again."
The voice rang like iron—sharp, commanding.
Cael staggered back, panting, wooden sword trembling in his grip. Across from him stood a woman dressed in dark leathers, her silver hair tied in a high knot, sword resting casually on her shoulder. Her stance was relaxed, but her eyes—those fierce, golden eyes—never blinked.
His mother. Seris Dray—the Stormblade of the Eastern Front, a living legend.
"You dropped your left foot again," she said flatly. "Do that in a real fight and you'll be eating dirt before you blink."
Cael wiped the sweat from his brow. He was only nine, but training started as soon as he could lift a stick. His mother believed that strength wasn't inherited—it was earned, every bruise and cut at a time.
"Sorry, Mother. Again?"
A smirk tugged at her lips, just slightly. "Better."
They clashed once more. This time Cael held his ground, blocking her swift strikes and managing to slip a clean jab toward her ribs. She parried it easily, of course, but gave a single approving nod.
"Good. That's enough for now."
Cael lowered his sword with a relieved sigh. His arms burned.
From the nearby porch, a warm laugh echoed.
"You're going to break the boy before he turns ten," came the calm voice of Theren Dray, Cael's father.
Unlike Seris, Theren was no warrior. A white robe hung from his shoulders, and in his hands, he carried a tray with fresh bread, herbs, and warm tea. He was the village's finest healer, and known throughout the region as a man of heart and hands.
"Discipline won't kill him," Seris replied with a shrug. "It'll keep him alive."
"And maybe some breakfast will keep him on his feet," Theren added as Cael jogged over, happily collapsing beside him.
Seris sat down beside her son, patting his head roughly. "Not bad today. You're improving."
"Thanks, Mom," Cael beamed.
Despite her harsh tone during training, she softened after. It was her way. Stern when teaching, but always kind when the swords were down. She brushed a few stray hairs from his face and kissed the top of his head.
Theren smiled, his eyes kind. "And someday, you'll be stronger than both of us."
Cael grinned. "Even you?"
"Well," Theren said with mock offense, "I am undefeated in family tickle matches."
Cael burst into laughter as his father lunged, fingers wiggling. Seris rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her affection.
Later that day, after chores and a midday meal, Cael dashed into the forest behind their home—the place where swords and spells gave way to pure freedom.
"Lira!" he shouted, grinning wide.
A girl, a bit shorter than him with wild black hair and dirt on her cheeks, popped up from behind a bush.
"You're late!" she said, sticking out her tongue.
"You're just early," Cael shot back.
Lira. His best friend since infancy, and his partner in every adventure. The two were inseparable—exploring the woods, chasing squirrels, building forts, even imagining monsters in the shadows.
They spent the afternoon pretending to be great heroes and villains, reenacting their parents' tales. Cael was always the knight; Lira, the rogue with a wooden dagger and quick feet.
"I'll protect the village from darkness!" Cael shouted, brandishing a stick like a greatsword.
"You'll trip over your cape again," Lira laughed, tackling him to the grass.
They rolled, laughing, as sunlight filtered through the trees.
That night, as the fire crackled and stars blinked into view, Cael sat between his parents, safe and warm.
He looked up at them, unaware of what fate had already set in motion. Of what shadows were stirring just beyond the mountains. Of how much he would lose.
For now, he was just a boy.
A boy with a loving family, a best friend, and dreams of becoming a hero.
*Far away, in a place beyond sight, a strange glyph flickered to life.
[Soulframe Protocol: Initialization Pending...]*