The sun filters through a cracked window, lighting up dust particles dancing in the air. A man sleeps on his side, sprawled messily across a thin mattress. Medium-tall, red hair tousled like an untamed fire. He snores loudly.
A faint voice from outside the room.
"Varis…"
The voice sounded closer than before, sharper than before.
"Varis!"
Varis jolts awake with a groan, rubbing his eyes and squinting at the light like it personally offended him.
"...What now…?" Varis says half-asleep
Varis groggily swings his legs over the edge of the bed, muttering curses under his breath as he stretches his back with a few satisfying cracks.
Over the next ten minutes, Varis lazily pumps water into a cracked basin, splashing his face with a grunt
"Agh… another day…"
Varis brushes his teeth shortly after, his toothbrush being a worn-out bristle twig, eyes half-shut, still trying to oppose the influence of sleep.
Varis throws on a faded tunic, pulling leather straps across his chest. He sniffed his boots, made a face, but put them on anyway. Grabbing his stachel and slinging it over his shoulder, heading to the door with a sigh like he's already tired of the day.
Varis trudges down a narrow hallway, yawning as he passes faded tapestries and creaky wooden doors. He stops at the first door to his left and slowly pushes it open.
Varis notices a mess of blankets. A small form is buried underneath them.
"Oroson, time to wake up, little guy." Varis says expectantly, yet softly, like he's done this every morning.
A muffled groan. The blanket wiggles.
"Five more minutes…" Oroson says half-asleep, mirroring his father.
"You said that yesterday. And the day before. And the day before that." Varis says while shaking his head.
Varis walks over and yanks the blanket off with a grin.
Varis then exits the room and enters the door across the hall. The doors creak. The room is noticeably neater than Orson's room, almost methodical. Varis's second-oldest son, Cassian, half-awake, already sitting up with both eyes open, but it's clear sleep has its influence upon Cassian.
"You're late, Father." Cassian says
"Don't start sounding like your mother." Varis says while rubbing his eye
Cassian smirks slightly, but swings his legs off the bed obediently.
Varis leaves the room and goes down the hallway, and looks at the door to the left. He enters. The room felt different from Orson's and Cassian's. Sparse. A wooden training sword leans against the wall.
"Alaric."
No response.
"Alaric!"
Alaric, the oldest of the three, opens one eye, evidently annoyed.
"I was up training late."
"And smack you across the head if you don't get moving." Varis says half-jokingly, half-strict.
Varis begins to travel to the kitchen, catching a whiff of his wife's cooking.
The stone kitchen is humble but lived in. A small hearth glows in the corner. The table is set with simple plates, and the smell of cooked eggs, smoked meat, and warm bread fills the air.
Orson rushes in first, still half-dressed, grabbing bread with his hands. Cassian follows, ever the composed, sitting neatly, and Alaric walks in last, quiet, nodding to his mother respectfully.
"Hands washed, Oroson."
"But it's bread!"
"Bread still counts. Go." Amabel says without turning around, flipping something in the pan
Orson groans but listens.
Varis finally entered, arms folded like a tired solider, sniffing the air with exaggerated disapproval.
"Hmph. smells like someone's burning breakfast again."
Amabel doesn't look at him. She simply gestures behind without turning.
"And smells like someone still hasn't chopped firewood like I asked."
The boys smirk. Orson giggles with a mouthful of food. Cassian hides a small smile. Alaric just quietly eats.
Varis walks over, kisses Amabel on the cheek, then steals a piece of sausage off the pan.
"Thief." Amabel says while smiling
"Hungry." Varis says while shrugging and smirking
They then share a look. Familiar. Soft. Worn-in love.
The family eats. Amabel occasionally refills plates. Varis leans back in his chair, stretching with a groan. He eyes each of his sons across the table.
"So…training camp. How's it going?"
The boys glance at each other. Oroson immediately looks down at his plate. Cassian pauses, choosing his words. Alaric keeps eating like he doesn't care.
"It's fine…" Oroson mutters sheepishly
Varis raises an eyebrow
"Fine' is what you say when something isn't fine."
"He's working hard, Father." Cassian chimes in, gently
"I just… I'm not as fast. Or strong." Oroson explains
Varis leans forward, his voice softening.
"You're twelve, Oroson. You're not supposed to be strong yet. You've got heart. That's more than most. Trust me, I've been around long enough to know."
Amabel, behind them, gives Oroson a supportive look.
"And you?" Varis says to Cassian, without looking, still eating his food.
"I'm doing well. I've been paired with the older trainees more."
"They say you're smart. Focused. That's good. Just don't get in your own head." Varis says, trying to support his middle-oldest.
Then Varis turns to Alaric, who finally meets his father's gaze.
"And you, mister silent warrior?" Varis says to his eldest
"I win. I win every match." Alaric says while eating his food, without looking up.
"Confidence or pride?" Varis says smirkingly
"Truth."
The room is quiet for a moment. Amabel sets down a cup of tea in front of Varis, cutting the tension.
"They're all doing fine. Better than we ever did at their age."
Varis takes a sip, eyes still on his sons.
"Just remember… Strength without purpose is wasted. And a sword swung without thought cuts a lot more than just your enemies."
The boys nod. Oroson still fidgets, but listens. Cassian thinks on it. Alaric, hard to read, silently absorbs the statement.
The family finishes eating. The quiet calm of morning is quickly replaced by a mother's rising urgency.
"Varis. You're still sitting? You said you'd take them to training camp. You're going to be late… again." Amabel says with her hands on her hips, watching the sun rise through the window.
"Damn, I just sat down. Can't a man relax and digest without any type of nagging?" Varis says while groaning, slowly standing
"They don't train digestion, they train swords. Up!"
The boys chuckle. Alaric shows no emotion, Cassian smiles respectfully, and Oroson lets out a laugh.
"Mom's gonna make you spar if you don't move."
"Not again! Last time I nearly lost a tooth." Varis responds to Oroson with mock fear
Amabel grabs Varis's cloak, tosses it to him.
"Move your legs, old man. You're not raising merchants."
"Old man?" Varis says baffled
"I'll have you know-"
"You'll have to get them there on time." Amabel says firmly
Varis sighs dramatically and swings the cloak over his shoulder, throwing the boys a look of feigned suffering.
"Alright, Alright. Let's go, boys, I'm tired of your mother's voice…"
Varis claps his hands once. The boys hop up, grabbing their gear. Wooden training swords, cloaks, and water flasks.
Cassian was used to his younger brother's forgetfulness
"Oroson, your boots…" Cassian says without looking at him, walking out the door
Oroson already halfway out the door, barefoot
"Oh crap, how do I keep forgetting?"
Amabel follows them to the door, brushing Oroson's hair as he passes. She lingers for a moment as they walk off.
"What a long way we've come, Varis." Amabel says in her head, smiling softly
The four walk through a winding path surrounded by low hills and scattered trees. Birds chirp. The sun's golden light filters through the leaves. The boys carry their wooden training weapons slung across their backs. Varis leads, slightly ahead, cloak billowing.
"You boys still breathing after yesterday's drills?"
"It wasn't tolling." Alaric says
"You say that now, but I heard you groaning in your sleep." Cassian retorts
"That was Oroson." Alaric says, turning to Cassian
"Was not! I sleep like a rock." Oroson defends himself sheepishly
"A crying rock, maybe." Varis chiming in, smirkingly
Oroson scowls but quickly forgets and skips a little ahead.
"Listen before camp today, I want to say something." Varis says with a bit of seriousness."
The three siblings slow down a bit, and Alaric and Cassian glance at each other.
"You're getting older. You're getting stronger. And the world walking into… it doesn't always wait for you to be ready."
Cassian lifted his chin, confidence running through him.
"We're training. We'll be ready."
"I know. But strength isn't just how hard you hit. It's knowing why you hit. And who you're willing to take a hit for."
A beat. Oroson looks up at his father curiously.
"Would you take a hit for us?"
Without pause
"In a heartbeat."
Alaric has a question
"What if we mess up? What if one of us gets hurt? Hurt badly?"
"Then I'll be the one who helps you stand back up. Just like my father did for me. Just like you'll do for someone one day."
They walk in silence for a moment. The only sounds are their boots on gravel.
"'m glad you're our dad." Cassian says quietly.
"Yeah, well… I had help. Your mother scares me more than any battlefield." Varis says gruffly, trying not to show too much in front of his kids.
All three boys laugh. The tension breaks. Oroson smiled at his father.
"She is scary."
"Don't tell her I said that."
The open training field bustles with young fighters. Some sparring, some stretching, others just arriving. The place hums with ambition and energy.
The distant sounds of clashing wooden weapons echo. A light breeze sways the banners of different regional emblems.
Varis halts the small cart. The boys hop off, grabbing their packs. There's a brief pause.
"Bye, Dad!! Don't forget to tell Mom I didn't cry this time!" Oroson says excitedly, waving big with both hands."
Varis chuckled, raising a hand.
"No promises, Oroson."
Cassian is a little smug, walking inside, very clear he's trying to act mature.
"Later, old man. Don't slack while we're gone."
"I'll try matching your overwhelming strength." Varis says amused.
"Good luck."
Cassian walks off, but glances back one last time, just a flicker of uncertainty before disappearing into the crowd.
Alaric remains for a second. He adjusts the straps of his weapon. He doesn't wave. He doesn't smile. Just looks at his father steadily.
"...I'll protect them, Father."
Varis's expression softens. Proud, but quiet.
"I know you will."
Alaric nods once, then turns and walks into the field, tall and straight-backed.
The cart creaks back into motion. Varis glances in the rearview mirror of memory. His sons have gone into the crucible.
The house feels quieter now. The leftover plates are stacked by the sink. A kettle whistles faintly on the hearth.
Varis steps in, rubbing the back of his neck and letting out a soft groan.
"They're in. Safe and sound. Alaric's already acting like a war general."
Amabel, drying her hands, doesn't look up.
"Mmhm. And you let Oroson wear his tunic backwards again, didn't you?"
"He said it was his 'lucky side'. Who am i to challenge fate?"
Amabel raises a brow, turning to him with a smirk.
"You're his father. Fate starts with you."
She crosses her arms, eyes narrowing in playful command.
"Now… Chop the firewood. Before luck runs and I turn you into kindling."
Varis sighs theatrically, placing a hand over his heart.
"You hurt and wound me, woman. I fought beasts for you."
"And now you fight logs. Let's see if you survive."
Varis swings the axe with practiced rhythm. THUD. THUD. Each strike carries the weight of years. Soldier, Husband, father. Sweat glistens on his brow, but he's smiling.
Amabel watches from the doorway, arms crossed, leaning on the frame. She calls out.
"You're slowing down."
"Well, that's what happens when you do something repeatedly."
"Plus, I'm savoring the moment. It's rare I get time with such a fine audience."
"Then perform faster. You've got stew duty next."
They share a look, soft, grounded, earned over a lifetime. The kind of love that doesn't need to be declared to be known.
Golden sunlight spills over the six distinct regions, their borders painted with natural wonders and architectural pride.
The Mage towers of the Arcane Vale pulse with quiet magic. The dragon cliffs glint with metallic scales of training wyverns. The sprawling farmlands of Lagaar shimmer in the breeze. Modest, Humble, Full of soul.
Dust kicks up from the practice grounds. The clang of wooden weapons. Grunts. Laughter. Instructors bark encouragement and criticism in equal measure.
Varis steps into the frame, his boots crushing the gravel path. His eyes scan for his boys, hands on his hips, part soldier, part father.
Varis spots Alaric is sparring with two other teens. He's calm, sharp, and commanding. He disarms one with a flick of his wrist.
Cassian is breathless, mid-sprint around the training yard, grinning despite a bruised cheek.
Oroson is trying and failing to lift a training sword twice his size. A nearby mentor corrects his grip, and he beams.
Varis leans on a wooden fence. Alaric notices first, gives the subtle nod. Cassian waves, trying to seem casual again. Oroson runs to him at full sprint.
"Dad! I hit a target today! Twice!"
"Twice? Better make it three tomorrow, or I'm trading you for a goat" Varis says while ruffling his hair
"A goat would run faster than Oroson." Cassian says while walking down the stairs, still a bit out of breath.
"Says the one who tripped on a helmet while running!"
They all chuckle except Alaric, who's just leaving the camp and coming to the group.
Varis chuckles at his oldest.
"I saw you beating those elder kids."
"It was nothing, they moved me up to the 18 and up class."
Varis's eyebrows raised, and he nodded approvingly.
"The 18 and up class? Wow. Certainly, making a name for yourself. Going for Champion of Lagaar?"
Alaric shrugs and glances at the sky.
"Champion. Haven't thought of it. Perhaps."
Varis goes inside to sign his kids out. Oroson looks at Alaric with curious eyes.
"Big bro, I think you should go for Champion, you're really strong."
"But I don't think he's the greatest representation of Lagaar." Cassian chimes in
"I don't think so either. But I do care for the people of Lagaar."
Both Oroson and Cassian are confused and surprised by Alaric's words
"Since when do you care for anything other than strength? I haven't seen you smile, cry, or even show anger." Cassian says.
"I get strong to protect what's around me." Alaric explains.
Varis suddenly taps Alaric's shoulder from behind.
"Sounds like a champion to me."
"Come on, you three. Let's go home."
Leaves crunch under their feet. The sun's last light filters through the trees. Cassian and Alaric have gone inside, but Oroson walks with Varis quietly. The air is cool, serene.
"You're quiet, Oroson. That's more of Alaric's thing." Varis says while glancing down at Oroson."
Oroson grips his sleeves, thoughtful. He looks up at his father with hesitant eyes.
"Dad… I feel something. Like a current. It's small, but… It's there all the time now. Moving through me."
Varis stops walking. He turns to face Oroson, fully attentive now. There's no panic in his face. Only calm, and something beneath it, awe.
"...You're sure?"
It started this morning. At camp. When I was breathing slow. It was like I could feel everything. The air, the grass… even Alaric's footsteps. And then it didn't go away.
A silence stretches. The trees whisper around them.
Varis slowly crouches to eye level. He rests a strong, comforting hand on Oroson's shoulder.
That's not just something, Oroson. That's your lineage awakening.
Oroson clearly confused.
But I thought Alaric or Cassian would awaken it first. They're stronger. Way stronger.
Varis smiles. Not with pity, but with deep pride.
Strength isn't solely about muscle. Sometimes the current chooses to the ones who's listening. Not who's loudest. You listened and heard it first. That matters.
Oroson nods. His father's warmth reassures him. They begin to walk again, the fireflies starting to glow in the brush.
"Does this mean I'm special?" Oroson says smugly.
"All of you are special. But this? This means your path's gonna twist rather earlier than i expected. But… I'll be here, walking it with you. Every step."
They walk home together, the forest behind them alive with quiet power.
Varis and Oroson finish their walk. The wind has grown still, and the sky glows soft with fading light. Fireflies flicker nearby. Oroson seems more confident now, like something inside him is settling.
They reach the fork near the home. One path leads to the front gate, the other winds toward the village square. The comfortable silence is broken by Varis's finger snap, as he sucks his teeth.
"Damn. I forgot to pick up the parcel from the tailor."
"The cloak you tore?"
Varis grins at Oroson's response.
"That tailor yells louder than your mother when i miss a pickup. I better go before she adds an extra fee."
He puts a hand on Oroson's head.
"Head home, alright? Tell your I'll be there soon. You remember the path?"
"Yeah. Should I say you forgot again?"
"Please don't."
They part ways. Oroson heading toward the house with a bounce in his step, still full of the buzz from their talk. Varis head the opposite direction, toward the village lights. As he walks, his smile slowly fades into a thoughtful stare.
"...It chose Oroson first. Huh." Varis mutters.
The bell above the wooden door jingles as Varis enters. The shop is cluttered with fabrics, spools, and half-finished cloaks draped on mannequins. A stout, sharp-eyed woman looks up from her sewing table.
"Three days, Varis! Fucking Three! I told you if you missed more damn pickup I'd turn it into a curtain!"
Varis walks to the counter, smirking, looking around at the other items for sale.
"Good thing I made it on day three, then."
"Day three and nightfall! You're lucky I didn't line the edges with bells."
She grabs a dark cloak folded on the counter and tosses it at him. Varis catches it and swings it on smoothly, fastening the clasp at the front. It fits perfectly. Regal, understated, and lined with worn silver embroidery. Varis spins slightly with it on.
"Still the best in the region, perhaps the kingdom itself."
"Flattery won't get you of being on time. You break that one and I'll stitch your name in bright pink on the next."
"Noted."
He gives her a mock bow and turns toward the door, pausing briefly.
"...Things are changing." said out loud, but meant for himself.
"What's that?"
"Nothing. Just admiring the craftsmanship." Varis grin returns
He pushes open the door, stepping back into the night.
Varis walks along the quiet dirt path, the crisp night air brushing his cloak. The moon is high, casting long silver shadows across the trees and fence. As he approaches the house, something feels wrong. Like something isn't adding up.
The house, normally filled with light, laughter, or at least the soft clatter of dishes is silent. Too silent.
Varis furrows his brow
"No lanterns?" Said to himself.
He slows. His boots crunch lightly against gravel as he reaches the porch. The door is closed, but there's no sound inside. No Amabel humming in the Kitchen. No boys' roughhousing. Not even the hearthlight flickering behind the window.
"Amabel? Boys?"
No answer.
His hand reaches slowly to the door handle.
The door creaks open. Darkness. The a faint smell of extinguished candles lingering in the air. Shadow clings to the surrounding walls.
Varis steps in carefully, each footstep measured. The house is intact. Nothing broken, no signs of struggle.
But it's the silence that screams.
He moves to the center of the room, eyes scanning. A single cup sits on the table, tipped over, wine pooling across wood.
"...Amabel?" Varis clearly sounding stressed. Rare for the battle hardened warrior.
He starts moving faster now. To the kitchen. Empty. Bedrooms. Empty. His voice grows sharper.
"Cassian! Alaric! Oroson!"
Nothing.
Varis is now shaken by fear. His eyes were looking all over the place, hoping to find his family. A faint gust pushes through a crack in the shutters. But it sounds like a whisper. The shadows feel wrong.
And then he sees it.
A thin trail of something. Faintly glowing. Almost like ash, or embers, leading out the back door. Still warm.
The back door creaks open. Moonlight spills across the grass, pale and cold.
Varis steps outside. The air feels heavier here. Still.
He looks ahead. He stops.
There, in the open clearing behind the home, lie everything he created.
Amabel.
Cassian.
Alaric.
Still. Unmoving. Their forms sprawled unnaturally on the ground, eyes closed, faces turned skyward as if caught mid-expression. The light breeze does not move them. The world around them holds its breath.
No blood. No wounds. Just… silence.
Varis doesn't move. He doesn't even breathe. The wind stopping, as if calming itself, respecting Varis's silence.
He steps forward once, then twice. Each step feels like it could break the earth beneath him. He drops to his knees beside Amabel, his hand trembling as it reaches for her cheek.
Cold.
He touches Alaric's wrist.
Nothing.
Cassian's fingers are curled, as if reaching for something.
Varis just kneels there, staring. No screaming. No shouts. Only the hollow absence of everything.
"Oroson?"
No reply.
Varis remains kneeling. Frozen. His eyes locked on his family.
"...Oroson?" Varis's voice sounding hoarse from unreleased sadness.
A faint sound. A wooden creak."
Varis stiffens, head turning slowly toward the house.
Another sound, soft shuffling, like feet dragging across floorboards.
Then.
A small hand pushes aside the hanging cloth at the back door. Oroson crawls out from under the kitchen table, dirt smudging his cheeks, eyes wide with terror. He stares out into the dark, toward the motionless forms.
"Dad…" Oroson barely whispers
Varis turns fully now, disbelief and instinct crashing together. He runs and pulls Oroson into his arms. Gripping him tight like the world's trying to take him too.
"I've got you… I've got you, Oroson…" Varis sounding choked, trying to comfort Oroson with whatever warmth he has left.
Oroson's fingers curl into Varis's cloak.
"I-I didn't move. Like you told… I felt the current again, So I listened. They came in… and-"
Varis pulls back just enough to look him in the eyes, hands cupping his small face.
"Its over. You're safe now. I promise."
Behind them, the wind picks up. The cloth doorway sways open, briefly revealing the stillness inside once more.
Oroson's sobs echo quietly under the moonlight. His small body trmebles in his father's arms.
Varis kneels, motionless. His face pale. His eyes locked on the scene he can't unsee. His wife, His prodigious sons, gone.
His throat tightens. His jaw clenches. The weight in his chest threatens to burst, but he doesn't cry.
"...Not now." Varis says softly to himself.
His hand cradles the back of Oroson's head, gently.
Oroson's tears soak through Varis' tunic, his voice cracking through breathless sobs.
"I-I couldn't move, Dad, I wanted to… I really, really wanted to… I was so… scared…"
Varis steadies himself.
"You did right, Oroson. You stayed alive. That's what everyone would have wanted. That's what matters." Varis says in a low, firm, voice.
His eyes water, but he doesn't blink. Doesn't wipe them. His face remains stone, carved by pain but refusing to shatter.
Behind his eyes, an ocean of grief. But in his arms… his world… his son.
The one still breathing.
"You let it, Oroson… Cry for all of us, cry for the ones who can't."
Oroson cries harder. Varis wraps the cloak around him, tight. The warmth of fatherhood sheltering him from a cold, new world.
Varis stares ahead. Unblinking. Into the dark. A hidden anger looming in Varis's heart.