The night wind crept through the gaps of the shaky wooden window.Cold air brushed the skin like delicate fingers reaching out from the dark forest behind the hill.Inside the small hut at the edge of Dove Village, the oil lamp flickered softly, its trembling light dancing across the faces of three siblings sitting in a circle.
Clive, only ten years old, leaned forward with wide eyes as if the world around him had vanished.The lamplight reflected in his gaze, making his eyes shine like two precious stones catching the moon.
"Wow," he whispered.
Caleb, the eldest, sat the straightest.He was only seventeen, but the proud glimmer on his face made him seem like a young hero who had already survived a hundred battles.His puffed chest, tense shoulders, and confident little smile made it easy to imagine him standing atop a fortress wall, surrounded by victorious cheers.
"Gaël Sadzoute," Caleb said, his voice quiet but reverent. "The legendary Freeblade who ended the Vardheim Civil War with the Eclipse Blade. A black sword with a faint glow at its edge. They say a single swing could split a small hill."
Clive swallowed hard.He could almost hear the wind cutting through the story, could imagine that dark blade sweeping through the air.
Caleb continued, eyes gleaming. "You know the Steel Wolf Pack that terrorized the Khandaris plains for three straight seasons? Gaël hunted their leader alone."
Clive clutched the small wooden sword he always carried.His fingers trembled with overflowing imagination.
"They say Gaël could jump over a river fifty steps wide," he whispered.
Caleb raised an eyebrow, then let out a soft laugh. "Jump? He walked on water like we walk on land. His body light, but his strike heavy as a mountain."
Beside them, Connor had long fallen asleep, his head resting on Caleb's shoulder.He had heard this story countless times.To him, Gaël Sadzoute was just a fable repeated too often.But to Clive, Gaël was a shining light in the Dark Age that plagued the land.
Clive imagined himself wearing silver armor, a sword at his hip, staring across a horizon filled with smoke, war, and lightning magic.He wanted to be a beacon across a continent ravaged by power struggles, raging monsters, and bandits swarming like pests.
He wanted to be a hero.
*******
The next morning, thick fog hung over the ground like a soaked blanket.The village road looked paler than usual.
Clive was helping Gregor, his father, put away the wood tools.The scent of sawdust filled the air.He had just set down a saw when the sound of hooves echoed from afar.
Heavy steps.Urgent.
Clive turned.
A courier's horse, pale gray, appeared from around the bend.Foam dripped from its mouth.Its coat was smeared with mud, as if it had traveled without rest.
The rider wore the official uniform of the kingdom.His face was pale.His sunken eyes looked like two dark pits.
"Gregor's family?" he rasped, barely polite.
Gregor stopped.His hand slowly put the hoe down.The thud against the ground sounded like a heartbeat stopping.
Lena, their mother, had been hanging clothes.Her hands froze.Caleb's shirt slipped from her grasp, falling to the dirt unnoticed.
Caleb stepped out of the house, his hair still messy.Clive saw his brother's expression change the moment he noticed the uniform.The proud eyes from last night's stories dimmed instantly.
The courier reached into his saddle bag and pulled out a parchment scroll sealed with red wax: the Valcorian eagle gripping a sword.
That symbol alone made the air grow heavier.
Gregor took the scroll.His usually strong hands trembled faintly.He broke the seal slowly.Cold night air seemed to seep into the yard.
"By decree of His Majesty King Valerius…" Gregor read, voice cracking. "Every son who reaches seventeen this autumn… is called to serve… the Annual Conscription… report to the Eastern Barracks at Iron Fortress… before the next full moon."
The words hit the ground like an iron hammer.
Lena clutched her chest.Her lips parted, but no sound came out.Only a broken breath.
Clive felt cold seep into his bones.
Connor stood at the doorway, awakened by the tension shaking the house.
Caleb didn't move.His fingers curled at his sides.Not from bravery, but from fear he tried to hide.
Gregor placed a hand on Caleb's shoulder. "You don't have to leave now. There's still time."
But even Gregor knew time was not a savior.
*******
That night before Caleb's departure, the dinner table felt like a coffin.Potato soup steamed, but no one lifted a spoon.
Lena simply stared at her eldest as if looking at the last flame in a world swallowed by darkness.
Caleb tried to smile. "I'll come back with a medal."
No one believed him.Not even Caleb.
*******
Dawn arrived too quickly.
Caleb put on his worn backpack.Lena grabbed him before he could step forward.She held him with every ounce of strength in her heart.Her body shook with sobs she had been holding back since the day the parchment arrived.
"Stay safe," she whispered. "Come home. That's all."
Gregor hugged him briefly, but Clive saw his father's eyes redden before he turned away toward the well, hiding his tears.
Connor and Clive stood at the doorway.Their thin sleepwear couldn't fight the morning cold.
Clive rubbed his eyes. "You're… leaving now? You haven't finished the story about Gaël and the Glacier Dragon."
Caleb's smile cracked, fragile. "I'll finish it when I return."
He pulled both brothers into a warm embrace.Connor felt Caleb whisper in his ear.One request:
"Take care of Clive for me."
Then Caleb walked.One step.Two steps.Three.
And their childhood walked away with him.
*******
That evening, the fog fell earlier than usual.
Clive was practicing with his wooden sword when he heard the hurried gallop of a horse. The sound felt like the final seconds before something breaks.
The horse didn't stop at the fence.No greeting.No salute.The courier dismounted immediately, handing over another scroll.
Clive's father received it. His fingers trembled even harder than before.
He opened the scroll. Read it once. Only once. Then the paper slipped from his hand.
The scroll rolled across the ground, stopping at Lena's feet as she stepped out of the house.
She didn't touch it.
Gregor covered his face with one hand. His voice cracked, sounding like a beast gravely wounded.
"Not Caleb."
The courier didn't care. "By order of King Valerius. We grieve the loss of your son."
And he left, abandoning the house to a suffocating silence.
*******
When Clive finally reached the front of the house, he saw his mother frozen in place. Lena's eyes were empty. No light. No life.
Only devastation.
Gregor picked up the scroll. His fist tightened around it until the paper crumpled.
"Monster attack," he said, struggling to breathe. "Caleb was on the front line."
Connor stood behind Clive, his breath caught in his throat.
A shatter rang from inside the house. A plate? A vase? No one knew. No one dared to go in.
The fog crept higher, covering the yard like a burial shroud.
Clive stood there, gripping his wooden sword so tightly his knuckles turned white.
He tried to picture Caleb as the hero from the old tales.
But the image didn't come.
What came instead was darkness. A fortress. Screams. Formless monsters.
And his brother's name, now swallowed by the fog.