Auenfeld was quiet.
Only the cry of roosters and the murmur of morning wind filled the air.
Inside a modest wooden home, a newborn cried for the first time.
"It's time!" gasped the midwife. "Push, Renalia, one more time!"
A final cry. A breath. Then silence.
And from the stillness — a small sound.
A voice too clear, too awake for a newborn.
"…Food."
The midwife froze.
The father, Ralph Erigor III, blinked in disbelief.
"Did… did he just say food?"
Renalia, pale and exhausted, laughed softly and held the child close.
"Of course you're hungry, my little one. Welcome home, Alvios."
Outside, for the briefest heartbeat — the wind stopped.
The world listened.
And somewhere deep within the unseen Flow, the Aether whispered back.
A House Full of Echoes
The Erigor home had stood for generations.
Two floors, a warm hearth… and a basement door that refused to open.
Ralph had tried everything — keys, blades, even minor enchantments.
Nothing worked.
"Some doors stay closed," he once said, "because they're not meant to open. Not yet."
Alvios nodded, though he didn't understand.
Sometimes, late at night, he swore he heard voices from below.
Whispers that sounded as if they were speaking through water.
The Boy and the Sword
At age three, Alvios held his first wooden training staff.
"This isn't a toy," said Ralph. "It's the beginning of responsibility."
Renalia frowned.
"He's three, Ralph. He should be learning his letters, not swordplay!"
Ralph only smiled.
"Why not both?"
And so, father and son trained in secret — beneath moonlit fields, behind the whispering wheat.
The villagers pretended not to see.
By eighteen, Alvios was no hero.
But he had grown strong enough to walk his own path.
Farewell at the Harbor
The air smelled of salt and sunrise.
The harbor of Portus Arcana was alive with shouts and sails — the ship Emerald Wind ready to depart.
"Today's the day!" Alvios cheered, running down the steps.
Renalia wiped her eyes, pretending it was smoke.
Ralph waited by the old chest near the window.
"Come here, son," he said, opening the lid.
Inside rested a blade — simple, gleaming, timeless.
"This is Liberta, the Sword of Salvation. It's been passed down for generations. Now, it's yours."
As Alvios grasped the hilt, he felt something — a flicker of memory, a heartbeat from another life.
Then it faded.
Renalia stepped forward, holding a small silver necklace.
At its center, a faint green-white rune pulsed like a heartbeat.
"And this," she said softly, "is from me."
"What is it?"
"A protective charm. The Rune of Vitae Restituere — Sanitas Aetherium.
As long as you wear it, no illness shall touch you, no poison shall linger.
Your body will remain pure, no matter how far you travel."
She fastened it around his neck.
The rune shimmered once in rhythm with his pulse.
"Thank you, Mom… it's beautiful."
"It reacts to your Aether," she said gently. "If it glows too brightly — rest. It means you're pushing yourself too far."
Ralph chuckled.
"Best listen to her. Sanitas isn't something to toy with."
Alvios grinned.
"I'll be careful."
The Journey Begins
The ship's horn cried.
Sailors shouted. The ropes loosened.
"Take care of yourself!" Renalia called, clutching her apron.
"I'll try!" Alvios laughed.
"And when you come back," Ralph added, "bring a girl home!"
"But not an orc!" Renalia yelled immediately.
"What if she's nice?"
"Then we'll ask questions."
Alvios laughed, but his chest ached.
"I'll be back," he said quietly. "Sooner than you think."
The planks rattled under his boots as he stepped aboard.
He waved until his parents became only two small figures on the distant dock.
"We love you!" Renalia's voice carried faintly over the waves.
Ralph raised a hand.
"And remember — you're never alone!"
Alvios turned toward the endless sea.
Beside him stood a young man with white hair — a stranger now, but one day, a friend.
And later still… a brother.
"New world," Alvios murmured, raising his hand toward the horizon.
"Here I come."
And somewhere deep within the invisible Flow, the Aether stirred.
A whisper.
A silent breath of the world.
This time... perhaps this time will be enough.
—End of the Prologue