Night had fallen over the village of Nyki, casting long, silvery shadows across the cobblestones and fields. The moon hung low in the sky, spilling a pale glow onto the river that cut gently through the outskirts of the village. Its surface reflected the stars like scattered shards of glass, and the gentle lap of water against the riverbank created a rhythm that was calming—yet deceptive.
In this quiet, Victoric moved carefully along the riverbank, her small hands holding a worn bucket. She wore a simple dress, sleeves rolled up, feet bare against the cool earth. Her golden hair shone faintly in the moonlight, the color almost unnatural in its brightness, and her eyes sparkled with the kind of curious energy only a child possessed.
She was collecting water for her painting—a quiet ritual she had adopted, using the soft reflections of the river to inspire her brush strokes. Her mind was already drifting to colors, shapes, and shadows as she bent to scoop water, the smooth surface rippling under her hands.
Then, a shadow shifted across the opposite bank.
She froze.
A boy's voice echoed softly across the water. "Who… who are you?"
Victoric lifted her head slowly, eyes narrowing in confusion and caution. There, emerging from the darkness like a figure out of a dream, was a boy slightly older than herself, dressed in garments that carried the weight of nobility, yet the look in his eyes betrayed a quiet unease. Golden locks of his own caught the moonlight in a way that made him glow faintly—though his expression was stern, almost unreadable.
"Am… me," she stammered, holding the bucket a little tighter, her heart racing. "And who are you?"
The boy raised an eyebrow, his gaze sharp yet cautious. "Am… me. We should stop screaming now." His voice was calm, measured, yet carried a quiet authority that made her pause.
"Yes… we should," Victoric admitted, her voice trembling slightly. "But I… I can't."
The tension was cut by the distant clang of metal against stone. A group of village guards rounded the bend, torches flickering in the night. "Your Highness! Are you okay?" one of them called out, eyes darting between the boy and the girl.
The boy waved them off with a lazy hand. "I am fine. Just… leave. I am okay."
Victoric's mouth hung open, her mind racing. "…You… Prince K… Kain? I-e… Klian?"
The boy's expression darkened slightly, though a flicker of irritation crossed his features. "Why does everyone always instantly know who I am?" he muttered under his breath, shaking his head.
Victoric's heart skipped a beat. He was… real. And he was standing right in front of her. And somehow… he wasn't frightening at all. Somehow… he felt familiar.
For a few long moments, they simply stared at each other across the moonlit river, the only sounds the soft ripple of water and the guards' tentative movements in the distance.
Finally, Victoric broke the silence, her voice trembling but firm. "I… I didn't know you would be… here. I mean… the village… it's so quiet at night. And you… you're not supposed to wander alone…"
Kain's gaze softened ever so slightly, though his tone remained measured. "And yet, here I am. Not supposed to, but… still present. The world doesn't wait for propriety, does it?"
Victoric tilted her head, unsure whether to be impressed or annoyed. "You… speak so strangely. Why do you sound like the stories the teachers tell? The heroic ones?"
"I do not know," Kain replied calmly, "but perhaps it is because I have practiced observing the world carefully. Words… actions… even moments like this. Nothing is random. Everything teaches something."
Victoric blinked. She wanted to argue, to tell him that life in Nyki was simple and sometimes there were things that didn't need lessons—but something in his tone made her pause. Something in his calm, deliberate way of speaking made her own thoughts stumble.
"I… I collect water for my painting," she said finally, holding up her bucket. "I like to capture… reflections. The river… it's… it's alive sometimes."
Kain's eyes flickered to the water briefly, then back to her. "Reflections… it shows the world, yet it changes with every ripple. You are… wise for a child."
Victoric gasped, almost dropping her bucket. "I… I am not wise! I'm just… just curious! And… and careful!"
He tilted his head slightly, considering her, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Curiosity is the first step to wisdom," he said quietly. "Carefulness… ensures survival. You are already practicing lessons most adults fail to learn."
Her eyes widened at the unexpected compliment. "I… I never thought of it that way," she whispered, almost to herself.
The tension of the initial encounter began to fade, replaced with a strange, electric connection neither fully understood. The boy's presence was commanding yet oddly comforting, his silent understanding pulling at something deep within her.
For a long moment, the only sounds were the rustling of leaves and the soft gurgle of the river. The guards, sensing no immediate danger, remained at a distance, waiting for the situation to resolve naturally.
Then Victoric spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why… why do you seem so… different? Everyone in the village talks about you as if you're distant, but… here, now… you seem… human."
Kain's gaze softened, though he remained guarded. "I am… human. But humans are often misunderstood. Perception rarely aligns with reality. Some see me as distant. Some see me as a prince. Few see me simply as a boy."
Victoric's eyes sparkled with a mixture of understanding and wonder. "Then… I'm glad I see you like this. Not as a prince, not as a story, but… as you."
For a brief, suspended moment, time seemed to hold its breath. The moonlight shimmered off the river, catching in her hair, in his eyes, in the quiet tension that hovered between them.
Then, without warning, a twig snapped nearby. The moment shattered. Kain's gaze flicked toward the sound, tension instantly returning to his posture. Victoric jumped, her small hand gripping her bucket tightly.
The moment of connection hung in the air, unresolved, fragile. Yet the seed had been planted. Destiny, even at its youngest and most innocent, had begun weaving its threads.
The night continued to stretch over Nyki, cool and quiet once more. Victoric and Kain remained by the river for a few moments longer, exchanging brief, cautious words. They shared stories of the village, of small secrets and childish fears, of ambitions yet unrealized. And through it all, a bond formed not fully understood by either of them, but undeniable in its quiet pull.
Eventually, Kain stepped back, eyes thoughtful. "I must return… before someone notices my absence. The world does not forgive carelessness lightly."
Victoric nodded, understanding even as her heart sank slightly. "I… I understand. But… will I see you again?"
He paused, his gaze lingering on her golden eyes. "Perhaps. If the world allows it. If… fate permits."
With that, he walked away, leaving her standing by the river, bucket in hand, staring after him. The moon reflected in her eyes as she whispered softly, almost to herself, "Perhaps… I will see him again."
And in that quiet village, as the night deepened, something subtle but profound began threads of a future intertwined, beginnings that would echo across seas and years, shaping destinies neither of them yet understood.