Their bodies embraced, she held him tightly with her face against his chest, as if she would lose him if she let go. He, being taller, rested his face on the young woman's head, his open eyes taking in the wind hitting his face, which remained serious, as if being embraced on the edge of a building over 10 stories high was nothing that bothered him.
When he felt the girl move, he lifted his head. The two looked at each other. She saw him, a serious face that showed a small, almost imperceptible smile on his lips, but she already knew him. She saw the somewhat unkempt brown hair that fell across his forehead, moving with the gusts of wind, and his brown eyes, so dark they seemed black, and his gaze, somewhat dead, but with a faint spark of life in them.
He observed her, first her brown hair with bright tones that looked blond in the sun, now messy from the wind and from being pressed against his chest. Her eyes, large and clear, a grayish-blue, stared at him, reflecting a mixture of contained fear and absolute devotion. He noticed how her slightly parted lips trembled almost imperceptibly, not from the cold of the wind at that height, but from the intensity of the moment, from the force with which she still held him.
On her, a serious face, though less so than his ; there was no trace of the small smile he had shown.
Only a naked vulnerability, a need so intense it could almost be felt in the air.
He continued to look at her, absorbing every detail: the barely visible freckles on her nose, the desperate determination in her brow, the way the reflection of the infinite and dangerous sky behind them seemed trapped in her green pupils. She was a whirlwind of feelings anchored to him with tooth and nail, while he remained as impassive as stone, observing her from a serenity that seemed chiseled, broken only by that minuscule spark of life that only she could perceive in his depths, with the wind whipping them, carrying away any sound other than the beating of their hearts and the whistle of the void at their feet.
Suddenly, the sound of a metal door opening made the couple turn their heads, seeing two police officers and a firefighter enter quickly from the rooftop entrance. The couple noticed traces of exhaustion, surely from running up the stairs, a bit of relief at seeing them, and stress... A lot of stress.
With a small kiss, the young man in the couple released his grip on the young woman. She looked at him, a little confused, but smiled, because she understood what was about to happen.
"I think it's time, My Lady," he said with a small smile. In the distance, the shouts of the strangers faded into the background.
The girl, with a very wide smile, nodded with excitement, tears beginning to fall from her eyes. She watched her partner position himself with his back to the edge, his arms open wide. She stood a few meters in front of him, making sure the strangers couldn't intervene, and began to run towards him and jumped into his arms, clinging to him tightly. Everything in her vision seemed to slow down. The couple looked into each other's eyes and as they fell, their lips met, letting a few last words escape their mouths.
"I love you, darling," they said in unison before their worlds went dark in an instant.
But in an alien world, far removed from everything known until now, called Gatheszda, a world full of mana, an incredible source of energy found everywhere, which grants some living beings the ability to create magic, although this is mostly controlled by the intelligent beings of the planet, such as humans, bestialis, elves, dwarves, drackis, and demilords. Each of them has their own continents, although citizens of each race have been moving through areas and places, living in zones that are not their origin.
Besides the intelligent races, there are also monsters or wild animals that use mana, some with more understanding, like ogres, and others with less, like a bear or a hare.
But what's important now is that two babies have just been born, each in a different situation. Their bodies, native to this world, but not their minds, oblivious to the change of worlds, were opening their eyes in this totally new world.
In a castle, full of luxuries, with maids and butlers running down long corridors, sweating, a butler entered a room with a woman behind him. Her gray and green hair was in curls down to her shoulders, and her pointed ears and shining eyes revealed her as a female of another race.
This woman observed the room. She counted six people: a woman lying in bed with her legs apart, her face looking as if she were in the worst health of her life; on each side of the bed were two maids, two of whom had sweaty faces and their hands were emitting a green energy that was directed towards the body of the woman lying in bed. Another of the maids held a baby, still somewhat dirty, likely from just having left its mother's womb. The last maid stood still, watching nervously.
The last person was a man with short hair, a small beard, and clothes of great value.
"Forgive my delay, Your Majesty," she said with a quick curtsy and stood beside the woman.
"Don't worry, Layla. We didn't want to bother you while you were at the academy, but she has worsened after giving birth. Please, help my wife. I know you are capable as an SSS-Rank healing mage," the man said with a worried tone, bowing.
Layla, surprised by the bow, simply nodded. In an instant, her hands lit up in a green and blue color, creating magic circles on the floor and ceiling. These began to spin on themselves, creating a small gust of wind that mesmerized everyone.
"Everyone, step back a little".
Everyone complied. Her eyes began to glow with fury, and small lines appeared on her face, creating a pattern. Her face, which had looked somewhat angry, relaxed, and she began to speak.
"The poor woman was on her last breath. Luckily, I arrived in time to heal her. Someone has poisoned her with some kind of very strong magic, but I am neutralizing it. Possibly someone didn't want the little princess to be born or wanted to kill two birds with one stone, getting rid of the queen, who is an A+ rank air mage, and the next heir," she said with some seriousness, looking at the king.
The man, with his now-clean daughter in his arms, looked at the elf mage and then at his daughter.
"I understand... will my wife survive?" he asked with concern.
Layla nodded. "The only thing is, I will come to check on her. She probably won't wake up for a month, so as long as she is given the necessary nutrients by magical means, everything will be fine".
She started walking towards the exit, her body returning to normal. Just before she left, the king shouted to her.
"What do I owe you?" They looked at each other for a few seconds. She looked away, opened the door, and passed through it. Before closing it, she said, "You owe me a favor, Your Majesty".
Seeing the door close, the king simply sighed. "These elves and their favors are going to be the death of me," he thought as he looked at his daughter, who was sleeping peacefully. Then he walked over to his wife and looked at her, sleeping there. Someone had dared to try to kill his family.
The veins on his neck and arms began to stand out due to his fury.
"Sebas..." he said, and in an instant, a man appeared from the shadows, kneeling beside the king. He wore light armor, and a strange mask covered his entire face, but nothing could be seen behind it.
"Your command, Your Majesty," a deep voice came from behind the mask.
"You know what to do. Find whoever poisoned my wife". The order came out like a whip crack, laden with all the weight of the crown and a husband's pain.
Sebas didn't even nod; he simply dissolved. A shiver ran down the spines of the maids present. Sebas's sudden absence was almost more terrifying than his appearance. The king did not look away from the spot where Sebas had been, his breathing deep, trying to control his anger, the veins still prominent on his neck. He lowered his gaze to his daughter, the small living being. He gently caressed the child's cheek. Her calm and pure breath contrasted brutally with the darkness he had just unleashed.
"Who?" The question hammered in his mind. "Who dares? In my own castle? On the day of my daughter's birth?" He looked at his wife, so pale against the white silk sheets, her beautiful face still marked by the recent agony. Layla's residual magic enveloped her in a soft blue-green glow, holding her life on a knife's edge. A month, a whole month without her eyes, without her voice, without her counsel. A month of uncertainty while someone in his court had tried to take her from him.
He leaned in and moved a lock of her sweaty brown hair from her forehead. His touch was incredibly gentle, a heartbreaking contrast to the storm in his eyes.
"I swear to you, my love," he whispered, his deep voice barely audible. "That whoever did this will pay. They will pay with their blood, with their lineage, with their very breath. For now, sleep, recover. I will protect our legacy". His gaze shifted back to the little princess in his arms.
The little girl was waking up. Although her body was that of a newborn, her mind was quite advanced, from another world.
"Where am I?" Her newly born body didn't have clear vision, she couldn't hear well; her senses of touch and smell were all starting to update. She felt something familiar about her situation, but it was a primitive feeling, something she couldn't explain. But for now, she would let herself be carried along, because she could do nothing but think, something she hated.
"I miss you, Audrey." That was her last thought before feeling sleepy again.
Elsewhere, at the same moment, a battle was taking place. A group of knights were in the distance of a village that was being besieged by ogres and goblins.
Due to the fight, the road smelled disgusting from the bodies of ogres and goblins. Six knights in light armor and with different weapons in hand stood a few meters away.
A dozen ogres, mountains of just over two meters of pure muscle and green skin, roared like beasts. Their clothes left much skin visible. They were accompanied by four goblins with cunning eyes and cruel smiles. Two of the latter, wearing robes that showed they knew magic, recited aloud and launched spears of earth at the knights.
Kaelen, the first in line, was a human with a slender figure. His bare head revealed a mane of hair that fell to his chin, accompanied by a scruffy beard that nonetheless made him look good. His light silver armor showed off his good physique, even though he was slightly below average height. In his hands, he held a gray katana with patterns on its blade. Seeing the attack, he prepared and cut two of them down without difficulty.
To his right, Borin was his opposite, another human, a wall of muscle, almost two meters tall. His broad face and red beard were framed by a nasal helm. He wielded a war hammer. "Bah!" he grunted, planting his feet. He swung his hammer, shattering the spears. An ogre with a knotted log club charged at him, taking advantage of the hammer's movement to attack. What it didn't expect was a figure to leap over Borin's back. Lyra, the only elf in the group, slender as ever, her silver hair tied back in a ponytail, jumped with feline grace. Her composite bow, carved from wood, already had an arrow ready to be fired. Its tip was enveloped in wind magic. "Pressure Arrow," her voice was melodious yet firm.
The arrow whistled and at an incredible speed, it pierced the ogre's throat, which fell like a sack of potatoes. As Lyra landed, she raised her bow, now without an arrow, aimed at a goblin mage, and an arrow of pure air formed and was launched in an instant, piercing its skull without difficulty.
The three remaining knights dodged with little effort. Two of them, the twins, Finn and Elara, both of a slender build, with short black hair and identical hardened leather armor, moved in sync. Finn, with two curved daggers, slid under the arm of an ogre trying to crush him, cutting the tendons of its ankle.
When the giant stumbled, Elara, who wielded a short sword, appeared at its back and plunged her sword into the gap in its armor at the kidney with lethal precision.
"Well done, little sister," Finn said with a mocking smile. His sister just gave him an exhausted look.
Before she could say anything, she dodged an grab attempt from another ogre, which made her resoplar. Her brother, again at her side, ready to fight.
Gregor, a large man whose full plate armor made him look like a walking fortress, unlike the others, carried a heavy shield and a short sword. He took a step forward, digging the edge of his shield into the mud and taking the impact of two ogres that struck him with their clubs. The clash of wood against steel resounded like thunder. The duo roared with rage.
Borin, laughing at the sight of Gregor holding back two of them, charged the flank of one of the ogres attacking Gregor. His hammer described a brutal arc, not towards the head, but towards the knee. The sound of pulverized bone was sickening and dry, and the beast fell sideways with a sharp shriek, exposing its torso. Borin gave it no respite, and the next blow from his hammer silenced the ogre forever. The other ogre, surprised, loosened its force on the shield, which was exploited by Gregor, who charged it, knocking it to the ground and cutting its throat without effort.
Kaelen, for his part, faced two ogres at once. He didn't seem worried. His katana was a gray blur; he didn't block, he dodged, moving with a fluidity that seemed more like a dance than a fight. A club descended where he had been a second before. Kaelen spun on his heels, his blade tracing an upward line that opened the first ogre's belly. Guts spilled out as the second ogre, enraged, threw a sideways blow. Kaelen ducked, the katana in a reverse grip, and as he rose, the tip of his weapon found the exposed throat of the beast, staining his weapon with greenish blood.
The battle continued for a short time. Currently, the group of knights was returning to the village. The closer they got, the more dead human bodies appeared along the path. Sadly, the message that they were being attacked had arrived too late, but luckily not so late that all the villagers died.
Upon arriving at the center, there were quite a few villagers, many of them young people and women, most of them shedding tears. An elderly woman approached the group of knights. Kaelen, the leader, stopped as she got close enough.
"It's over, ma'am. Your village has been avenged..." the knight said with some sadness in his voice.
"Thank you... really, thank you so much. We will repay you somehow," the woman said, grabbing Kaelen's stained hands. He shook his head and let the woman cry.
"Go and prepare with your people for the journey. Take what you can and what you have left. We will look around to see if there are any survivors," he said, to which the woman nodded and walked away.
The knight turned to his group and spoke. "Alright, we will search until sunset. I want you here before nightfall. I want to reach the kingdom by tomorrow at dusk to report".
Everyone nodded at his words and they separated.
There was little time left before sunset, and Kaelen moved with the silent grace that characterized him. His katana was already clean and sheathed. His steps made no sound on the dirt and rubble. His eyes scanned every shadow, every broken door. He saw scenes that would have broken other men: wooden toys lying in pools of blood, a table set for a dinner that was never served, the unnatural stillness of a place that should be bustling with life. It was a freshly dug cemetery, and this was neither the first nor the last time he would see one.
It was the silence that guided him, his instincts. The silence of death, which was omnipresent, a specific silence that activated his senses, an absence of sound where there should have been something. It led him to the remains of what was a small cabin on the edge of the village, its roof partially collapsed. Careful not to cause another collapse, Kaelen entered it.
There, under a broken beam that had miraculously not crushed her, lay the body of a young woman. She couldn't have been more than seventeen. Her blonde hair was dirty with dust and dried blood that flowed from a fatal wound in her side, the result of an ogre's claw. Her body was curled up, her arms extended in a final protective gesture, and in the space her body formed, wrapped in a rough blanket, was the baby.
Kaelen knelt, his armor making a faint creak that seemed a profanation in that sanctuary of silence. He observed the mother, her face, though pale and lifeless, retained an expression of fierce determination. Her eyes, open and glassy, did not look at the collapsed ceiling, but at the space beside her, where her child had been. She died protecting him.
Then, his gaze fell upon the child, and he paused. The baby wasn't crying, wasn't sleeping, it was awake, lying on its back, its small fists clenched at its sides. Its eyes, wide open, were looking at him. Kaelen felt a shiver that had nothing to do with the evening wind. These were not the unfocused eyes of a newborn; they were a brown so dark they seemed black, and in them was a stillness, an unfathomable depth that did not belong to an infant. There was no fear in them, nor confusion; only a passive, almost analytical observation.
The knight, a man who had looked death in the face innumerable times, felt strangely exposed under that infantile gaze. It was like seeing his own reflection on a blade, seeing not his face, but the weight of his actions, his weariness, his loneliness. In those baby eyes, Kaelen saw an echo of the same dead gaze he sometimes found in the mirror, but also, and this was what unsettled him the most, a flash of intelligence.
Inside that small head, the world was a confusing and blurry vortex. The senses didn't work correctly, the imperfect vision of a large, dark figure kneeling before him. The mind struggled to impose order on the chaos, to understand the transition. His instincts screamed at him to look for a face, for grayish-blue eyes, a smile that was only for him, but he didn't find it.
"I miss you, My Lady," he thought.
With a delicacy that contrasted with his calloused and battle-stained hands, Kaelen extended his arms, slowly. He slid one hand under the child's neck and the other under his back, lifting the baby from its mother. The baby was light, fragile. He settled it against his chest, using a clean piece of the manta to protect it from the cold metal of his armadura.
For an instant, the child's eyes closed.
Kaelen stood up and gave the young mother one last look.
"Rest," he whispered, a silent promise that her sacrifice would not be in vain.
He left the ruined cabin just as night was falling, as the first stars began to appear.
In the distance, he saw the torches of his companions returning to the village center. As he walked towards them, with the silent baby cradled in his arms, Kaelen felt that he hadn't just rescued an orphan; he felt a connection with this child.
END OF CHAPTER 1
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