The sun was warm on Aiden's face as he darted through the dirt streets of the village, a wooden sword clutched in his hand. His laughter rang out above the chatter of merchants and the calls of farmers driving their wagons. Barefoot, shirt untucked, his black hair messy from the wind, he looked nothing like a cursed child of prophecy. He looked like any boy — except quicker, sharper, brighter than the rest.
"Faster, Aiden!" one of the guards, Kale, shouted, swinging a wooden practice blade at him. The boy ducked easily, his feet kicking up dust as he spun around and countered with a strike to the man's ribs.
Kale grunted, surprised by the force for one so small. "Seven years old, eh? You hit harder than lads twice your age. You might be a genius"
Aiden grinned wide, ember-colored eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Maybe you're just slow!" He darted away before the guard could ruffle his hair, laughing as the crowd of children watching erupted in cheers.
From across the square, Serenya watched with folded arms, her flour-dusted apron still on from the bakery. She shook her head, though a smile softened her face.
"That boy…"
She had not meant for him to train with guards, not so young, not so reckless. But Aiden never listened. Sword in hand, he was alive in a way — fearless, playful, yet with a strange spark of talent that drew every eye.
"Aiden!" she called, her voice carrying across the square. "Don't break your arm before you finish kneading today's bread!"
The boy dropped his sword, scampered toward her, and threw his arms around her waist. His cheek left a smudge of dirt on her apron. "Sorry, Mom."
Her breath always caught when he called her that. He said it so naturally now — Mom — as if the word had been written for her all along.
"Kale says that im a genius!"
With a proud smile and laugh,
"Hehe, He says I'm fast! Faster than anyone else."
Serenya looked at Kale, who had wandered over with his practice sword slung across his shoulder. The guard gave her a sheepish shrug.
"He's not lying. The boy has talent."
Her heart squeezed. Of course he does. She looked down at Aiden, his grin wide, his eyes so bright it hurt. You were always meant for more.
But she pushed the thought away and forced a smile.
"Well, my fast swordsman, let's see if you can be fast in the bakery, too. The morning loaves won't knead themselves."
Serenya smoothed his messy hair, her hand trembling just faintly. "One of these days, you'll get yourself hurt, and then who will help me carry the flour sacks?"
"I will! Even with one arm." He flexed dramatically, making her laugh.
They walked together back toward the bakery, the warm smell of fresh bread spilling out onto the street. Their bakery was small, the walls low, the tables old, but it was filled with laughter. Villagers came not only for the bread but for the joy Aiden seemed to bring with every grin, every ridiculous story he told while wiping flour across his face.
Serenya set a bowl of dough on the table, rolling up her sleeves. Aiden climbed onto the stool beside her, his eyes narrowing in concentration as he pressed his little fists into the soft dough.
"Like this?" he asked, his tongue poking from the corner of his mouth.
"Almost," Serenya said gently, guiding his hands. "Not too hard, not too soft. Bread needs patience."
"Patience?" Aiden wrinkled his nose. "That's boring."
Serenya laughed. "Not everything can be a swordfight, little one."
Aiden puffed his chest. "But I'll be the best swordsman in the world someday. I promised Kale. And I'll protect you, Mom. Always."
Her hands froze for a moment, the dough slipping through her fingers. Tears pricked her eyes before she could stop them. She leaned down quickly, pressing a kiss to his forehead so he wouldn't see her expression. "I know you will," she whispered. "I believe you."
Aiden beamed, returning to kneading with wild enthusiasm that sent flour flying across the table. Serenya shook her head, laughing, her heart aching with love and fear all at once.
That evening, they sat on the bakery steps as the sun dipped low. Villagers passed by with baskets, nodding to Serenya, waving to Aiden. He tore into a hunk of bread, crumbs scattering down his shirt.
"Mom," he said suddenly, his voice thoughtful. "Do you think I really could be the best? Like Kale says?"
Serenya tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, studying his profile. He was so alive, so full of joy, it was hard to imagine him as anything but.
"Yes," she said finally. "But being the best isn't just about winning fights. It's about choosing who you fight for."
Aiden looked up at her, his red eyes wide. "I'll fight for everyone."
Her throat tightened. She pulled him close, pressing her cheek against his hair. "Then you'll be the greatest of them all."
----
The training yard of Valeria was polished marble and white stone, banners of gold and blue rippling overhead. The morning sun gleamed against the edges of his practice sword as he repeated his stance under the watchful eye of Master Renvir.
"Again," the instructor barked. "Stability, then speed. Do not let your opponent read you."
Kaizen's golden hair clung damply to his forehead, but his sapphire eyes never left his target. His strikes were not wild — they were deliberate, honed, and steady. For seven years, he had been molded into perfection. For seven years, he had been told there was no other path.
"Good," Renvir finally muttered. "But do not mistake discipline for victory. The heir of Valeria cannot afford weakness."
Kaizen lowered his blade and bowed in acknowledgment. He had no need to argue. Discipline was his duty.
"Kaizen!"
The stern quiet of the training yard shattered at the call of a young, playful voice. Kaizen turned just in time to see a blur of black hair racing toward him.
Ava.
Only four, she ran with arms spread wide, her little blue eyes shining like stars. She darted across the polished stones, ignoring Renvir's frown, and hurled herself into her brother's arms.
"You're too serious!" she declared, clinging to him as he lifted her easily. "You never smile when you train."
Kaizen's lips curved faintly. "If I smile, I'll miss the strike."
"Then you'll miss anyway," Ava shot back with childish certainty. She giggled, tugging at his damp hair. "You think too much."
Renvir exhaled through his nose, but when Kaizen gave him a respectful nod, the instructor relented. "Five minutes. Then back to form."
Kaizen carried Ava to the edge of the yard, setting her down carefully. She twirled in her blue dress, giggling as the hem brushed her knees. She had their mother's face — the same black hair, the same piercing blue eyes — and sometimes Kaizen wondered if the gods had made her to soften what the world demanded of him.
"You'll be strong like me one day," Kaizen said softly, brushing a bit of dust from her cheek.
Ava wrinkled her nose. "No, I'll just be fast! Faster than anyone!" She spun again, stumbling a little, then burst into laughter.
Her joy tugged something in his chest — a strange pang he could not name.
Later, when training ended, Kaizen walked with Ava through the palace gardens. The air smelled of roses, fountains trickling softly between marble arches. Their mother waited for them at the far end, seated on a stone bench beneath a flowering tree.
Queen Anastasia rose as they approached, her gown trailing across the grass. Her eyes softened as she gathered Ava first, kissing her hair. "And what trouble did you cause today?"
"None!" Ava said brightly. "I only watched Kaizen. He's too serious."
Anastasia laughed, then looked to her son. Her hands cupped his face, brushing back his damp golden hair. "And you, my crown? Did you push yourself too far again?"
Kaizen shook his head, though his eyes dropped briefly. "I did what I must."
Her expression wavered. She leaned closer, her voice lowering so only he could hear. "You are more than what you must be, Kaizen. Remember that."
He wanted to answer, but Ava interrupted with a squeal, grabbing both their hands. "Come play, Kaizen! Mama, you too!" She tugged them toward the fountain, water sparkling in the afternoon sun.
Anastasia smiled, allowing herself to be pulled. For a moment, the weight of crown and prophecy fell away. For a moment, they were just a mother, her serious son, and her wild little girl.
----
The moon hung silver above Holloway, its glow spilling across the quiet village. Most windows had gone dark, smoke thinning from the chimneys, but at the edge of the fields a lone tree stood tall, its branches stretching wide.
Beneath it, Aiden swung his wooden sword.
The night air was cool, but sweat still clung to his brow. His small body twisted and spun, mimicking the guards he watched each day. The blade whistled through the air, striking against an invisible enemy. Each swing ended with a grin — he wasn't practicing because someone told him to. He was practicing because it made him feel alive.
From the roots of the tree, Serenya sat cross-legged, her flour-stained apron folded neatly beside her. She watched in silence, her green eyes soft, her lips tugging into a weary but affectionate smile.
"You'll wear yourself out before morning," she finally called.
"I won't!" Aiden barked back, his voice bright and playful. He lunged forward with a clumsy flourish. "See? I'm just getting started."
The wooden blade slipped in his hands, and he nearly toppled over. Serenya laughed, covering her mouth.
"Maybe you should practice sitting still," she teased, patting the grass beside her.
"Come here, little one. Rest."
Aiden hesitated, his ember eyes darting from his sword to his mother. Then, with a dramatic sigh, he let the weapon fall to the grass and plopped down beside her.
The two leaned against the tree, its bark rough at their backs. Above them, the stars shimmered, scattered like diamonds across a velvet sky.
Aiden tilted his head back, his mouth falling open in awe.
"There's so many…"
"There always are," Serenya said softly. "You just forget to look."
He pointed upward, tracing constellations with his finger. "That one looks like a sword. And that one—like a crown."
Serenya followed his gaze, her smile bittersweet.
"Maybe. Or maybe they're just stars, each burning for their own reason."
Aiden wrinkled his nose.
"That's boring. I like mine better."
She laughed quietly, brushing a lock of hair from his face. "You never stop imagining, do you?"
"Nope," he said proudly. Then, after a pause, his voice grew thoughtful. "Mom… do you think people out there, far away, are looking at the same stars?"
Her heart tightened. She kissed the crown of his head, whispering, "Yes. I think they are."
They sat in silence for a while, the night wrapping them in stillness. Aiden's hands fidgeted with the grass, his restless energy never quite gone. At last, he clenched his fists, his ember eyes burning with conviction.
"I'll be the best in the world," he said suddenly, his voice fierce for one so small. "The best swordsman. The strongest. Everyone will know my name."
Serenya looked at him, her heart aching and proud all at once. She saw the boy who laughed at storms, who brightened even the darkest nights, who had already survived more than he should have.
"I know you will, just don't forget to smile when you do."
Her lips curved into a smile, soft and radiant in the moonlight.