"Who are you?" an 8-year-old asks a man sitting on a bench on the side of the street.
"I dont know myself," He says.
"I'm sitting here not knowing what to do right now. I have an oath to fulfill, but I'm wondering if the path I'm on is the right one."
"I dont know that to tell you, old man, since I dont know what you're going through, but I will say what my mom always tells me. Listen to your heart, it may be one of the most shitty and ambiguous advice I could give you, but I promise that once you understand yourself, you will find your path. "
"What's your name, kid?" he asks.
"My name? It's Kyros."
The man blinked once. Nothing. No gasp. No shout. Just... calm. "Oh. Is that so? Well, for an 8-year-old kid, you're quite understanding, and thank you for teaching this slightly old man."
Little Kyros smiled. "You're welcome."
"What's your name, sir?"
"My name is Theryn Ambrose. I have a little brother around the same age as you. His name is Silias."
"Mr. Theryn, what's your oath about?"
"I can't tell you, kid. It's now something kids should know about."
"Aw, that sucks."
"Silias would like you, Little troublemaker," Theryn said with a small grin.
Kyros scrunched his eyebrows. "I'm not a troublemaker, I just ask questions."
"That's what all troublemakers say."
"I'm going to ignore what you said, old man."
"I'm not even old."
"Whatever you say, old man. What's your magic anyway?"
"It involves Oaths."
"Sounds boring."
"Boring? I guess you could say that." Theryn chuckles
"So it is boring," Kyros says while kicking his feet
"Yeah, I guess so. Where are your parents' kid?" Theryn asks
"I dont know where my dad is, but my mom is working on something, I dont know," Kyros exclaimed
"Oh, ok." Theryn nods
A voice cuts through their conversation.
"Young Master." It was sharp and unmistakably irritated—the tone of someone who swore they had only looked away for ten seconds and found the kid sitting in a place he absolutely should not be.
"Ah shi-" Kyros cursed
"Ya know, kids shouldn't curse," Theryn reprimanded
"Well, this moment calls for it," Kyros replied
Theryn raised an eyebrow. "Someone sounds annoyed."
"Who me or them?"
"Them of course"
"They always are," Kyros muttered, hopping off the bench.
The air shimmered, and a tall woman draped in deep violet robes, black hair flowing like a spill of ink behind her. Not Nyx herself—one of her personal attendants.
"There you are," she hissed. "Do you have any idea how many streets I searched? You can't just slip away like—"
She noticed Theryn and stared at him for a second before turning to Kyros
"Who is this?" she demanded.
Kyros lifted a hand and pointed. "That's Theryn! He's not old, but he acts old."
Theryn coughed indignantly. "Thank you, Kyros."
"You're welcome," the boy said with a smile.
The attendant kept her distance. "We're leaving."
Kyros made a face but nodded. He turned back to Theryn.
"Welp... I guess I'll see you around, old man," he said, lifting his hand in a small wave as he walked away with his attendant. Theryn watched the boy trail off beside the attendant, her hand hovering near his shoulder as if she expected him to bolt again. Kyros didn't—though he looked like he wanted to. His steps were light, a little too careless for a child who had just revealed his name so casually.
Kyros.
The name sat in Theryn's mind like a stone dropped into deep water—barely a splash, but the ripples spread wide.
He leaned back on the bench, exhaling slowly.
"Damn," he muttered to himself. "Of all the things in this world... why that name?"
The street moved around him: vendors shouting over each other, kids weaving between carts, the smell of fried bread mixing with morning fog. Life carried on, unaware of the sudden weight sitting on Theryn's shoulders.
His fingers drummed against his knee. "Eight years old," he whispered. "Too early... unless—"
A sudden chill crawled up his spine.
He wasn't alone anymore.
"You really let him walk right up to you?" a voice said from behind the bench. Theryn didn't turn immediately. Only one person he knew turned accusations into casual conversation so smoothly. He sighed and finally glanced over his shoulder.
A man stood there—taller, older, dressed in simple traveling clothes that did nothing to hide the sharpness in his eyes. He looked like someone who had seen the world and was unimpressed by all of it.
"Good morning to you, too, Aethon," Theryn said dryly.
Aethon took a seat beside him with a grunt. "So? Did you know?"Theryn stared forward. "No."" Did he?"...also no."Aethon clicked his tongue.
"That's dangerous, Theryn. You and I both know what happens if the wrong person hears that name."
"I know."
"Do you?" Aethon leaned in, voice low. "Because you looked pretty damn relaxed for someone who just had a veiled walk-up and called him old."
Theryn winced. "I'm not old—why does everyone keep saying that?"Aethon stared at him. "Focus."
Theryn scrubbed a hand down his face, suddenly exhausted. "He didn't feel like a threat."
"He's not. Yet." Aethon folded his arms. "But that's the problem with kids—they grow." Theryn stayed silent.
Aethon sighed. "Look... I get it. He's just a kid. But you can't let your guard down. Not with that name. Not with your oath hanging over your head."
Theryn's jaw tightened.
"My oath isn't about him."
"Isn't it?" Aethon asked quietly.
Theryn froze—not from fear, but from the quiet, electric pressure of truth brushing against denial.
Aethon stood. "We should report this."
"No." Theryn rose so fast the bench creaked. "We're not doing that. Not unless he knows. And he doesn't. He's just... an eight-year-old with too much curiosity and not enough supervision."
Aethon raised a brow. "You sound very confident in that."
Theryn met his eyes. "Because I have to be."
Aethon studied him for a long moment, then exhaled. "Not enough supervision, my ass. Did — Fine. For now."
He walked away, boots thudding against the stone street. Theryn remained where he stood, hands in his pockets, staring down the road Kyros had taken.
The crowd had swallowed the boy completely.
Only the faint shimmer of magic left by the attendant still hung in the air ."...Kyros," Theryn murmured. "If you really are his son... Then the world isn't ready."He turned and began walking in the opposite direction.
"Neither am I."