Saamu stood at the edge of the village, his small hands gripping the wooden fence, staring out at the rolling hills where the winds whispered stories of battles fought and blood spilled. The sun was beginning its descent, casting a golden glow over the fields. The world around him was peaceful, a stark contrast to the storm brewing within his heart. His father, the mighty soldier who fought alongside the warlords, was gone. And with him, all that Saamu had known.
His mother, blind yet stronger than any woman Saamu had ever known, sat in the small cottage they called home, weaving her dreams into the fabric of the day. Saamu could feel her presence even without looking, the way she moved with grace despite her frailty, her steps slow but steady. His father had gone to war with the other warriors of the village, promising to return with stories of valor and victory. But the days passed, and the air grew thick with tension.
The sound of hooves pounding against the earth disrupted Saamu's reverie. A messenger, his horse covered in sweat and dust, arrived at the village, his face pale and strained. Saamu's heart skipped a beat as he noticed the somber look in the messenger's eyes.
"Saamu," the messenger called, his voice trembling. "Your father… has fallen."
The words echoed in Saamu's ears, like thunder clashing with the stillness of his world. His father is dead? It couldn't be true. How could it be true? The man who had fought with honor, the man who had promised to return to him, was no more. The weight of those words shattered Saamu's heart in a way he could never have prepared for. His breath caught in his throat, and he collapsed to his knees in the dirt, the world around him spinning.
At that moment, Saamu's world seemed to fall apart. His mother, feeling the shift in the air, sensed his distress and called out to him, her voice trembling.
"Saamu, my son," she whispered, her hands reaching for him. "Come to me."
Saamu crawled to her, tears streaming down his face as he clung to her frail form. His world was collapsing around him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. His mother's soft, comforting hands cupped his face, her touch gentle despite the storm within.
"Do not let this loss consume you, my child," she murmured, her voice steady, though her own heart was breaking. "Your father's spirit lives within you. And the power of the ancients runs through our blood."
Saamu's tears slowed as he looked up into her blind eyes, the eyes that had seen the world in ways he could never comprehend. She smiled at him, a faint glow of strength emanating from her, but Saamu could see the sorrow in her face. She, too, was afraid. Not for herself but for him.
"Take this," she said, her voice lowering to a whisper. She reached into her robes and pulled out a small, intricately carved pendant. "This is the key to a power far greater than anything the world can offer. It will guide you when the time comes."
Saamu took the pendant, feeling its cold weight in his palm. His mother's words were a riddle and power? What was she speaking of? But before he could ask, a sharp, painful gasp escaped her lips. Her frail body trembled in his arms, and Saamu knew, even before she spoke, that it was too late. The grief of losing his father had crushed her heart.
"Promise me, Saamu," she whispered, her voice weakening. "Promise me… that you will not let anger consume you… and that you will rise above the darkness."
And with that, Saamu's mother passed away, her spirit leaving her body to join his father.
The boy was alone now. Alone, with nothing but the pendant in his hand and a world that felt empty without the ones he loved.
But as Saamu knelt beside his mother's lifeless form, the wind began to stir, and the skies above seemed to hum with an unfamiliar energy. He didn't know it yet, but something ancient, something powerful, was awakening inside him, a power that would change the world.
The journey of a boy destined to become the Lord of All Beasts had just begun.