The sun rose gently over the village, casting golden light across the rooftops and painting the sky in soft amber hues. The birds were chirping lazily, and a breeze carried the scent of dew and wildflowers through the open window of the little house.
Inside, Caelus was still sprawled on his back on the old cot, blanket half-dangling to the floor, one hand over his face as he snored lightly.
Althea stood over him, arms crossed.
"Caelus," she called softly. "It's morning."
No response. Just a louder snore.
She sighed. "Caelus. Wake up."
Nothing.
Her brow twitched.
She leaned down, cupped her hands to her mouth and yelled—
"WAKE UP, CAELUS!"
"GAAAH—!" Caelus flailed, nearly falling off the cot. "Geez! Don't scream like that! I thought the sky was falling!"
Althea stood upright, completely unapologetic. "You weren't waking up. So I made sure you did." Caelus groaned, rubbing his face. "You've got the subtlety of a thunderstorm…" Before their argument could continue,
The door creaked open gently.
"Good morning, dears," came a warm, weathered voice.
Grandma Merra stepped inside, her shawl draped over one shoulder and a wooden tray balanced carefully in her hands. The smell of fresh-baked bread and eggs drifted in with her—comforting and homely. "I brought you something to fill your bellies," she said kindly. "Fresh from the pan. Hope you slept well?" Caelus blinked off the last bits of sleep, rubbing his eyes. "Yeah, thank you. Slept like a stone, honestly."
Althea simply gave a small, dignified nod. "Thank you so much. You didn't have to go through the trouble."
Grandma Merra chuckled as she laid the tray down on the small wooden table beside them. " Well, it's ok its the least we can do, It's not a palace, but it holds warmth. And thank you again—for what you did yesterday."
She paused to smile at them both, genuinely. "My husband… he's stubborn as an old goat, but he's kind. If those thugs had really hurt him…" Her voice trailed off, but her gratitude lingered in the air. Just then, from the slightly open door behind her, a small shape peeked through—a tiny figure, half-hidden in the hallway. Two wide, curious eyes stared in from the crack. Merra turned, noticing.
"Oh," she said with a gentle smile. "Come now, don't be shy. They're friends."
The little girl hesitated—then bolted into the room, only to hide directly behind her grandmother's legs, peeking out like a rabbit watching from a burrow.
"She's Elina," Merra said softly, resting a gentle hand on the girl's tangled hair. "My granddaughter."
Elina didn't speak. But her eyes—big, brown, and bright—were fixed entirely on Althea.
Or more specifically, the faint golden light that seemed to glow around her like sunlight trapped in silk.
Althea noticed the stare and tilted her head slightly. Then, her expression softened. With a single graceful wave of her fingers, she conjured a delicate flower, spun entirely of golden threads of light. It floated down, slow and gentle, and landed in Elina's small hands. The little girl gasped in wonder.
She gripped the glowing flower tightly with both hands, then looked up at her grandmother with sparkling eyes. Merra laughed, tears just barely brimming in the corners of her eyes. "That's… that's beautiful. Thank you, miss." Althea gave a quiet smile. "It seemed fitting." Elina held the flower like it was a treasure from a dream. Caelus watched in silence—his chest a little heavier than a moment ago, but in a good way. Then Grandma Merra clapped her hands lightly. "Now then—enough magic and misty eyes. Hurry up and eat before your breakfast goes cold."
The soft clink of cutlery filled the quiet morning air as Caelus sat at the small wooden table, a slice of warm bread in one hand, eggs cooling on his plate. Sunlight streamed in through the window, painting the room in hues of gold and peace.
Across from him sat Merra, the grandmother, gently sipping tea from a clay cup. But her gaze wasn't on her breakfast—it was on the corner of the room, where Althea sat beside Elina.
The little girl had warmed up quickly, sitting just beside the normally untouchable goddess, her glowing flower still clutched tightly in her hands. They were talking—genuinely talking—about small, silly things.
"How does your dress shine?" Elina asked in awe.
Althea replied, almost primly, "It's woven with divine energy."
Elina leaned in, wide-eyed. "Is that like fairy dust?"
"…Close enough," Althea answered after a pause.
Merra chuckled quietly, and Caelus found himself smiling too—just watching.
He'd never seen Althea like this before.
No haughty commands. No divine speeches.
Just… patient. Gentle. Almost human.
She's always been so far above everything, Caelus thought.
*But right now, she looks like she belongs here. Like she cares. *
Then Althea, mid-sentence, let something slip.
"When I was younger, my mother used to say—"
She stopped.
Not because she meant to—but because Elina's smile vanished.
The child looked down, her hands still on the glowing flower.
Then, quietly, she stood up, walked over to her grandmother without a word, and buried her face in Merra's lap.
Althea blinked, confused. "Did I… say something wrong?"
She stood slowly, visibly unsure.
Merra gently rested a hand on Elina's back, rubbing slow circles.
"No, dear," she said softly. "It's alright."
She looked up at them, her voice warm but lined with sorrow.
"Elina lost her parents a few weeks ago. When the Rift opened outside the village, it all happened so fast. She misses them. Especially on quiet mornings like this."
The room fell into silence.
Even the soft chirps of birds outside seemed to hush.
Caelus lowered his fork, his appetite gone. He didn't say anything—he couldn't. His chest just felt heavier than before.
Elina didn't cry loudly. She just clung to her grandmother, silent tears running down her cheeks.
Merra hugged her close, whispering gently.
"They're watching you, little star. Just like always. Your mama and papa are proud of you. You're so strong, and they haven't left your side. Not really. They live right here—" she touched Elina's chest "—in your heart."
The little girl sniffled, rubbing her eyes with the back of her sleeve.
And then, slowly… she smiled again.
Just a little.
Just enough.
Althea sat down quietly, her hands folded in her lap, saying nothing.
Caelus remained silent too. The room had gone quiet after Merra spoke.
Even the light coming through the windows felt softer—less golden, more muted, like the day itself was listening.
Caelus didn't speak for a while. He just quietly finished his food, eyes lowered, the weight of the moment sitting heavy on his shoulders.
When he finally pushed the empty plate forward, he looked up—not with his usual awkward smile, but something gentler.
"…We should get going," he said softly.
Merra glanced up from where she was still stroking Elina's hair. "You're welcome to stay another night, dear. It's no trouble."
Caelus gave a polite shake of the head. "Thank you. Really. But… we've got unfinished business."
He stood slowly, and before heading to the door, turned toward Elina.
She hadn't said anything since returning to her grandmother's side. Her eyes were still a little glassy. Her tiny hands still curled around the golden-thread flower.
So Caelus bent down on one knee.
He made sure his eyes were level with hers. No grand speeches. No magic tricks. Just a quiet closeness.
"Hey," he said gently, patting her head with slow care. "Don't cry."
Elina blinked up at him.
"I lost my parents too," he continued, his voice softer now, like a breeze through tall grass. "They were sick. And it hurt. A lot. But you know what I believe?"
She didn't answer—but she was listening.
"I think… just like my parents, yours are still watching you. Up there, past the clouds. I think they're smiling every time you laugh. Every time you keep going."
Elina's lower lip trembled, and she gave the tiniest nod.
Caelus smiled. "Be strong, okay? And keep smiling. There's still so much for you to see."
He lifted his hand and began counting off on his fingers.
"Big, fluffy clouds the size of castles. Mountains so tall they scrape the sky. Long-eared rabbits that hop like they're bouncing on springs. Birds so small they look like flying berries."
Elina giggled quietly through her sniffles.
Caelus winked. "And you'll meet friends—real friends. The kind you explore the world with. The kind who laugh with you and never let you feel alone. Sounds pretty fun, doesn't it?"
Elina's eyes lit up, the sadness shrinking just a little behind a new spark of wonder.
Then, in a small, hopeful voice, she asked, "Will you… be my friend too?"
Caelus blinked—completely caught off guard.
He smiled, heart aching in the best way. "Yeah. Of course I will."
And just like that, Elina stepped forward and threw her tiny arms around him, hugging him tightly.
Caelus froze at first, startled.
Then he gently returned the embrace, wrapping his arms around her back. No words. Just warmth.
Caelus thought to himself
I didn't understand.
Not really.
I thought I was just dragged here—by magic, by accident, by some higher being with a fancy name.
I thought maybe this world was a dream, or some grand quest with a clear path and a heroic ending.
But it's not.
It's real.
Raw.
It bleeds.
And right now, this little girl is holding onto me like I'm her whole sky.
Like if she lets go, she'll fall again into that awful, quiet darkness.
She's lost everything.
And still… she laughs.
Still… she reaches out.
How can someone so small carry so much pain and still smile like that?
How is she the brave one here?
I look at her and I want to be strong. I want to be someone she can believe in.
But what am I?
I've never fought in a war. Never cast a real spell. Never saved anyone from anything.
I don't have a sword. I don't have a plan. I don't even have clean clothes.
Just… trembling hands, a heart that aches too easily, and a promise I made without knowing if I could keep it.
But maybe that's what it takes.
Not power. Not prophecy.
Just the willingness to show up.
To listen when someone's hurting.
To kneel when someone's lost.
To be the kind of person who stays, when everyone else leaves.
I don't want to be a hero in someone's legend.
I want to be the reason the next kid doesn't have to lose everything before someone steps in.
I will change this world.
Not for glory. Not because I was told to.
*But because I have to.
If a broken world like this still have people who can laugh through tears…
Then I owe it to them to fight for something better.
And I will.
Even if it breaks me.
Even if it takes everything I have.
Because they deserve a world where flowers are just flowers.
Not comfort for grief.
And smiles aren't rare.
They're just part of growing up.
A quiet laugh bubbled in Caelus's chest, and he patted her head again.
"Okay, okay—easy, Elina. Don't break my neck. I only have one."
Elina let go, giggling as she wiped her face on her sleeve.
From across the room, Althea had been watching silently.
She hadn't moved—but something in her had shifted.
There was a faint glow—so faint even Caelus didn't notice—rippling under the surface of his chest. A golden shimmer, flickering just once before fading like a heartbeat under skin.
Althea's eyes narrowed slightly.
The sigil… it reacted.
So it's starting. He doesn't even realize it yet.
Her lips curved into a small smile—not smug, not royal. Just proud.
Maybe he was chosen for a reason.
Caelus slowly rose to his feet, the weight of Elina's hug still lingering in his chest like a fading heartbeat.
He turned toward Althea, meeting her golden eyes with a steadiness she hadn't seen from him before.
"Althea," he said softly but with conviction, "shall we?"
There was no theatrics in his voice—just purpose.
"We've got a lot of work to do."
Althea stared at him for a beat, studying the quiet strength in his gaze… then gave a small smile and nodded.
Without another word, Caelus turned back to Elina, still clutching the glowing flower in her tiny hands. He knelt one last time, brushing her bangs aside gently as he placed a hand atop her head.
"Don't worry, little one," he said. "We'll make this world better—for you, and everyone like you."
Elina blinked up at him, confused by the grown-up words.
"…Does that mean you're gonna turn all the monsters into goats?"
Caelus raised an eyebrow. "Uh—no?"
Elina looked disappointed. "That would've been fun."
That broke the silence like sunlight through clouds.
Althea laughed—a rare, genuine sound. Even Merra chuckled warmly as she covered her mouth with her wrinkled hand.
Caelus groaned dramatically. "Okay, maybe one monster. Just one goat monster. Deal?"
Elina giggled, bright and wide-eyed.
And in that moment, it felt like something in the air had shifted—not the world itself, not yet—but something within the people who would walk it.
And it started with a promise.
A laugh.
And the quiet step forward of someone who had decided not to run anymore
As Caelus and Althea stepped out of the little cottage, the soft morning breeze greeted them, carrying the scent of earth and blossoms from the nearby fields.
Just down the path, they spotted Grandpa, hunched slightly but still strong, walking toward them with a small woven basket brimming with fruits.
"Leaving already?" he asked, adjusting the basket under his arm.
Caelus scratched the back of his head and smiled. "What gave it away? The backpacks or the determined 'we-have-to-change-the-world' faces?"
The old man chuckled, his eyes crinkling with good humor. "A bit of both, I reckon."
He held out the basket. "Here—some food for the road. Not much, but it'll keep your stomach from complaining too loud."
Althea gave a respectful nod. "Thank you. You didn't have to."
"And yet I did," the old man replied with a wink.
Caelus accepted the fruit with both hands and grinned. "Guess you're officially our first quest sponsor."
That earned another laugh from Grandpa.
As they reached the edge of the small gate that separated the house from the road, Merra stepped outside to wave, and little Elina came bounding out after her, the magical flower still twirling between her fingers.
Just as Caelus and Althea turned to wave back, Elina cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted with all the cheer her tiny lungs could carry:
"Bye-bye, Big Sis Althea! Bye, Big Bro Caelus!!"
Both travelers froze mid-step.
Caelus blinked.
Althea raised an eyebrow.
Then, slowly, the corners of their mouths curled into matching smiles—soft, surprised, and undeniably real.
"…I guess we've been promoted," Caelus murmured, shaking his head with a chuckle.
"Apparently," Althea replied, her voice unusually light.
They gave one final wave to the little family behind them. With packs over their shoulders and fruit in hand, they turned toward the winding road ahead.
The village slowly disappeared behind them, but Elina's voice lingered in the air like sunlight on their backs.
And as they walked forward, something in their steps felt a little steadier. A little stronger.
Like two people who now carried more than just supplies.
They carried a promise.
And a reason to keep going.