Dawn brushed against the house, casting a pale, hesitant glow through the curtains still drawn. The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of dew and earth after a long night. In the bedroom, the steady breathing of the two brothers filled the fragile silence, their chests rising and falling in rhythm as if clinging to the remnants of an innocent dream. Yet downstairs, near the half-open door, Fin was already waiting, dressed and prepared to leave. His dark eyes, fixed on the worn wooden floorboards, seemed to carry a weight far heavier than the travel bag slung across his shoulder—a burden he refused to share with anyone.
"I'll have to say goodbye… I'm leaving," he murmured, his voice low, deep, but steady like a blade that had long accepted its purpose.
In the hallway, Sacha stepped forward with hesitant steps. Her fingers trembled as she pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders, the fabric rustling softly in the quiet. Her lips parted, but for a moment no sound came out. She lowered her head, unable to hold that calm yet distant gaze which always seemed to pierce straight through her heart.
"Thank you… and see you soon," she whispered at last, her voice fragile and breaking at the edges, like glass under pressure.
For a heartbeat, silence stretched between them. Then a faint smile, almost imperceptible, touched Fin's lips. He tightened the reins of his horse, which pawed the ground softly, its hooves striking the earth with quiet impatience. The animal's breath steamed faintly in the morning chill, as if echoing its master's restrained restlessness. Before placing his foot in the stirrup, Fin turned to Sacha, his eyes sharp but not unkind, carrying both distance and a flicker of trust.
"Take good care of them," he said simply.
The words struck Sacha like an immense responsibility falling squarely onto her shoulders. Her throat tightened, and she could only nod, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. She turned abruptly and rushed upstairs, her hurried footsteps echoing across the creaking staircase like the drumbeats of panic.
"Boys!" she called out desperately as she flung open the door to their room.
Her breath caught in her throat. The beds were empty. The blankets lay crumpled on the floor, the sheets tangled as if abandoned in haste. The silence felt deafening. Evidence of a hurried escape stared back at her, and panic surged within her chest, a cold shiver racing down her spine until her legs nearly gave way.
Meanwhile, Fin was already riding toward the forest's edge. The wind whipped at his cloak, snapping the fabric behind him like a banner of departure. The morning air was sharp, stinging his cheeks, filling his lungs with a raw chill that only sharpened his awareness. His thoughts, which he had sealed firmly behind walls of discipline, were suddenly shaken by an unexpected sight: two figures stumbling out from between the trees, their breaths ragged, sweat glistening on their young faces.
He pulled on the reins, the horse slowing into a cautious trot. For an instant, Fin's eyes gleamed with a mix of surprise, annoyance, and—despite himself—amusement.
"So you came after all?" he asked, his voice low but carrying across the space between them like a challenge.
Malton stood tall, fists clenched tightly at his sides, as if forcing his small body to radiate determination.
"Yes," he replied firmly, though his voice trembled faintly beneath the weight of his resolve.
Beside him, Eduard bent slightly, catching his breath, but his fiery gaze burned with a fierce determination that needed no words. At last, he raised his head, his expression unwavering.
"I told you I was ready to do anything to come with you."
Fin exhaled slowly, a heavy sigh that betrayed the doubts he had tried to bury. The boys were unprepared, reckless… and yet, their eyes mirrored something he recognized all too well: the refusal to be left behind.
"Did you bring everything you need?" he asked, almost testing them.
"Yes!" they both answered in unison, their voices overlapping with raw energy.
A brief silence followed, broken only by the restless snort of Fin's horse. The sound echoed in the still forest like a reminder that time was slipping away. Finally, Fin inclined his head, his expression unreadable.
"Very well. Get on. I'll take you with me."
The brothers exchanged a quick glance—half excitement, half disbelief—before stepping forward, their hearts pounding as if trying to leap from their chests. With hands trembling from anticipation rather than fear, they reached out and touched the saddle.
"Where are we going?" Malton asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, his eyes wide with both awe and uncertainty.
Fin straightened on his mount, his figure looming tall, his shadow stretching long behind him in the newborn sunlight.
"To the kingdom where your mother once served… Zestria."
With that, he spurred his horse into a gallop. The sound of hooves thundered against the earth, carrying them forward. Their figures vanished together into the distance, swallowed by the growing brilliance of morning. Behind them, the forest faded into silence, carrying away the remnants of a fragile childhood now shattered beyond repair.
Ahead stretched a path unknown—three long years of hardship, trials, and battles. Yet within that path burned the spark of a promise: that one day, they would grow strong enough to face the cruel world awaiting them. And as the light of dawn spread across the sky, their journey truly began.