The morning after the crystal shattered, the village of Elandria had already shifted.
What was once a quiet, sleepy settlement now buzzed with rumors. Merchants gossiped openly about the silver-haired boy who had made the crystal sing with every element. Mothers whispered to their children to "be kind to Icarus, or the Moonborn might send lightning down from the skies." Children followed him at a distance, giggling, as if expecting him to sprout wings and fly.
Icarus, however, paid little attention. His silver eyes remained calm, unreadable, as though he had walked this road many times before. And in a way, he had—he had seen the rise of prodigies in his past life, though none had ever been him. Now, reborn, he carried that weight.
Rowan jogged beside him, already out of breath. "Moonborn, you walk too fast. Slow down! You're supposed to be mystical and dramatic, not practical and speedy."
Icarus arched a brow. "You could walk faster."
"Blasphemy," Rowan wheezed. "Walking fast is for people who didn't eat three meat pies for breakfast."
Icarus shook his head, but a faint smile tugged at his lips. "If you keep eating like that, training will kill you before demons ever get the chance."
"Ha! Joke's on you," Rowan said, patting his stomach proudly. "I have the iron will of a thousand warriors… and their combined appetites."
Sir Alaric's Lesson, or Something Like It
They reached the training grounds, a simple field with wooden dummies, straw targets, and a few stone pillars carved with runes. Sir Alaric stood in the center, polishing his sword with a rag that looked suspiciously like his cloak. His armor gleamed, though his hair stuck out at odd angles, as if he had fought a battle against his pillow and lost.
"Ah, my prodigies!" Alaric called, waving dramatically. "The dawn of your glorious training begins! Behold, the field where legends are forged and egos are shattered!"
He attempted a heroic pose, but slipped slightly in the grass. Rowan snorted loudly.
Icarus bowed politely. "We are ready, Sir Alaric."
"Good!" Alaric clapped his hands together. "First lesson: discipline! Which means… no tripping, no laughing at your Commander—" His eyes flicked toward Rowan. "—and no eating during training."
Rowan froze mid-bite of a pastry he had somehow smuggled in. "Uh… what if it's emergency rations?"
Alaric pointed sternly. "Confiscated." He snatched the pastry, took a large bite, and chewed thoughtfully. "Mmm. Good emergency rations. Lesson one complete."
Rowan's jaw dropped. "That's robbery! Abuse of power!"
Icarus's silver eyes softened with amusement. This… might be entertaining.
Magic Training
Alaric finally drew his sword and stuck it into the ground. "Now, Moonborn," he said, his tone suddenly serious, "place your hand on this rune stone."
Icarus obeyed, pressing his palm against one of the carved pillars. It vibrated faintly, recognizing his mana. The runes glowed softly, then flared brilliantly.
Rowan shielded his eyes. "Not again!"
Streams of light shot out, circling Icarus like a miniature constellation. Fire curled around his left arm, water swirled at his fingertips, air whispered around his shoulders, and earth trembled beneath his feet. Lightning sparked faintly in his silver hair, making it shimmer.
Sir Alaric whistled. "By the gods… lad, you're not a prodigy. You're a walking disaster waiting to happen."
Rowan grinned. "A beautiful disaster."
Icarus remained calm, letting the energy flow. In his past life, magic had been something he studied endlessly but could never perfect. Now, it coursed through him like it was always meant to be there.
"Control," Icarus murmured, focusing. Slowly, he drew the magic back into himself. The glow dimmed, the runes faded, and the world grew quiet again.
Sir Alaric blinked. "Well… that's new. Most apprentices faint on their first try. You… look like you're ready for lunch."
"I am," Rowan said immediately.
"No, not you," Alaric groaned.
Rowan's Attempt
"Alright, Rowan," Alaric said, rubbing his temples. "Your turn."
Rowan puffed out his chest proudly. "Watch closely, Commander. I shall dazzle you with my raw talent."
He placed his hand on the rune stone. Nothing happened.
He frowned, pushing harder. Still nothing. He glanced at Icarus. "Uh… maybe it's broken now? You overloaded it, Moonborn."
The runes flickered faintly, then sparked. A puff of smoke erupted, sending Rowan stumbling back, coughing.
"Ha!" he wheezed. "See? I produced smoke! That's… uh… rare!"
Alaric rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Rarely useful, maybe."
Rowan pouted. "Hey, smoke can be useful! What if we need to… uh… confuse the enemy? Or… cook fish really slowly?"
Icarus shook his head, though his eyes gleamed with quiet affection for his ridiculous friend. "You'll find your strength, Rowan. Keep trying."
Rowan perked up immediately. "See? Even the Moonborn believes in me. I'm practically invincible!"
Alaric muttered under his breath, "Invincibly stupid, maybe."
Princess Selene Appears Again
A voice rang from the edge of the field. "Invincible, hmm? That's a bold claim."
Selene walked toward them, clad in light training armor that shimmered with delicate enchantments. Her golden hair flowed behind her, and her sapphire eyes glimmered with curiosity.
Rowan nearly tripped over himself trying to bow. "Your… Highness! I mean, wow, uh, you look… dangerous? No, beautiful! Uh… beautifully dangerous!"
Selene arched a brow. "Do all of your companions talk this much, Moonborn?"
Icarus inclined his head politely. "Only this one."
She smiled faintly. "Good. I like him. He makes training less boring."
Rowan beamed proudly. "See? Royal approval! You can't get rid of me now."
Alaric groaned. "Heaven help me."
Selene turned her attention back to Icarus. "I saw what you did with the crystal yesterday. The whole court is buzzing about it. They call you Moonborn already."
Icarus's silver eyes met hers calmly. "I don't care about titles. Power is meaningless unless used well."
Her smile deepened, impressed. "Wise words for someone so young."
Rowan nudged him playfully. "Smooth, Moon-Eyes. Very smooth."
Sparring
"Enough talk!" Alaric declared, pulling two wooden swords from a rack. He tossed one to Icarus, who caught it easily. The other he handed to Selene.
"You two, spar. Let's see what happens when Moonborn meets the Princess."
Rowan's jaw dropped. "Wait, that's illegal! Unfair! Totally biased! I call—uh—what's the word? Favoritism!"
"Silence, jester," Alaric said, shoving him aside.
Icarus raised the wooden sword, stance steady. Selene mirrored him, her movements graceful yet sharp. Their eyes met briefly—a spark of recognition, challenge, and something more.
Then they clashed.
Wood struck wood with sharp cracks. Selene was fast, her strikes fluid, precise, her years of royal training evident. But Icarus moved with uncanny calm, parrying each blow with minimal movement, his silver eyes reading her rhythm.
Rowan shouted encouragement from the sidelines. "Go, Moon-Eyes! Don't let her distract you with her royal hair!"
Selene smirked, lunging forward with a clever feint. For a moment, she almost broke through his guard—almost. But Icarus sidestepped gracefully, his wooden blade tapping her shoulder lightly.
"Point," he said calmly.
Selene blinked, then laughed softly. "Impressive. You don't fight like a child at all."
"I've had… practice," Icarus replied, voice quiet.
Alaric clapped loudly. "Marvelous! Truly marvelous! The birth of a legend… and perhaps the start of something else, eh?" He waggled his eyebrows dramatically.
Both Icarus and Selene shot him identical looks of exasperation. Rowan, meanwhile, nearly fell over laughing.
The Day's End
Training continued into the afternoon. Rowan managed to singe his own pants trying to conjure flame, Alaric tripped into a trough of water while demonstrating "advanced" footwork, and Selene sparred with both boys until Rowan collapsed dramatically, declaring himself "mortally wounded by exhaustion."
As the sun dipped low, painting the sky in hues of orange and gold, Icarus stood at the edge of the field, staring out over the horizon.
This world was at peace now, but he knew it would not last. His memories reminded him that darkness would come—demons would rise, kingdoms would fall, and betrayal would run deep.
But for now… he had Rowan's laughter, Alaric's bumbling mentorship, and Selene's curious gaze. A strange, imperfect, but precious beginning.
He allowed himself a rare, soft smile. Yes… this time, I will be ready