(Kael, Age 7 → 10 — Elyndria)
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I. Lyria Saren — The Girl Who Saw Him
Sunlight poured over the village like warm honey, gilding rooftops and dusting the street with gold as Kael and Lyria walked side by side. Lyria carried a stick over her shoulder, pretending it was a spear, humming a tune with far too much confidence and absolutely no rhythm.
Kael carried nothing. His hands were folded neatly behind his back, posture straight—the gait of a tiny soldier trapped in a child's body.
Lyria walked like she was leading an army of imaginary heroes.
"You're too serious," she announced.
Kael blinked. "…How?"
"You walk like you're guarding a king." She puffed up her chest theatrically. "Maybe you're guarding me."
Kael tried—and failed—to hide a smile. "You're not a king."
She gasped, mortally offended. "Excuse me—I am extremely important."
A soft laugh escaped him before he could stop it, and Lyria beamed as though she'd won a duel.
They were crossing the square when a voice slid out from the shadows near the well.
"Well, well. Look who it is."
Rellen—two years older, permanently scowling—stepped forward with the swagger of someone who had never been told "no" in his life. His gaze flicked over Lyria like she was something beneath his boot.
"Didn't think your little shadow was with you today."
Kael stiffened.
Lyria stepped in front of him instinctively. "Leave us alone, Rellen."
"Aww, scary." He snorted. "What are you gonna do? Cry for your dad again? Oh wait—your dad's a nobody."
Lyria's jaw clenched.Kael's vision tunneled.
A breeze stirred at his feet.
Rellen shifted his sneer to Kael. "And you—always staring, always quiet… maybe there's something wrong with your head."
The wind coiled around Kael's ankles.Not angry—eager.
Hungry.
Not yet, he warned silently.
Rellen shoved Lyria's shoulder, making her stumble.
Kael's hand twitched.
The wind answered.
A sudden, sharp gust whipped across the square—aimed with perfect, surgical precision. Rellen yelped as the blast caught the waistband of his trousers—
—and yanked them straight to his ankles.
The square went silent.
Then one person laughed.
Then ten.
Then everyone.
Rellen froze, face turning a painful shade of red, screamed something unintelligible, yanked up his pants, and sprinted away with the speed of a hunted animal.
Lyria stared after him…
…then slowly looked at Kael.
A tiny smile crept across her lips.
"You did that."
Kael tried for innocence. "I don't—"
"Kael." She stepped close, lowering her voice. "It was wind. And it only hit him."
Kael swallowed.
Lyria reached out and took his hand.
"I won't tell anyone."
Relief washed through him so sharply he nearly swayed. She squeezed his fingers gently.
"Thank you for helping me," she said.
The words escaped him before he could stop them."I'll always protect you."
Lyria froze.
"You… mean it?"
"Yes."
She stared into him—long, steady, searching—then nodded as if proclaiming a divine prophecy.
"Then it's settled."
Kael tilted his head. "…What is?"
"When we're older," she said confidently, "we're getting married."
Kael choked, face exploding into a shade of red not found in nature. "M–married?!"
Lyria clutched her stomach, laughing. "Oh no, did I break the great swordsman Kael Varos?"
He stammered helplessly while she laughed her way across the square.
"Come on!" she called. "You'll be late meeting your new master!"
Kael stayed frozen for several more seconds before scrambling after her, ears still burning.
⸻
II. The Meeting — What Parents Fear Most
Inside the Varos home, Taren and Mira sat across from Master Eiran Thalos. His presence filled the small room—calm, stern, and immovable. Even seated, he felt like a mountain in human form.
"I'll speak plainly," Eiran said. "Your son possesses potential I've not seen since Elyndria's golden age. But potential becomes danger when left untrained."
Mira's fingers tightened around her skirt. "He's seven. Just seven."
"Taren was eight when he began under me," Eiran said. "And your son is already past where Taren was at fourteen."
Taren's throat bobbed. "…I know."
Eiran leaned forward. "If Kael remains here, he'll be limited. Contained. Worse—he'll attract attention. Attention you do not want."
Mira's voice sharpened. "From whom?"
Eiran's expression didn't change. "From anyone who hungers for power. Men in palaces. Men in shadows. And men who wear crowns they do not deserve."
A chill rippled through the room.
Taren reached for Mira's hand. "If Eiran believes this is necessary… then we must consider it."
Mira's eyes glistened. "He's our baby."
"He won't be forever," Taren whispered. "And the world won't be gentle."
Her breath broke.
At that moment, the door slid gently open.
Kael stood there.
Lyria hovered behind him, offering Mira a small, supportive smile before slipping away.
⸻
III. The Parting — A Storm's First Break
Mira rose instantly and swept Kael into her arms, holding him so tightly his ribs protested.
"My sweet boy," she whispered, voice cracking, "I love you. I am so proud of you."
Kael froze.
Then, slowly, he hugged her back.
"I love you too, Mama."
Tears slid down her cheeks.
Taren approached, placing a steady hand on Kael's shoulder. "Son," he said softly, "Master Eiran will train you. He'll make you stronger than you can imagine."
Kael swallowed. "How long… will I be gone?"
Eiran stepped forward.
"Until your blade has its own voice," he said. "Until the storm inside you is fully awakened."
Kael looked to Taren.
His father's gaze held pride, fear, love—and trust.
Kael nodded. "I'll go."
Mira pressed a shaking kiss to his forehead.
Kael gathered his small pack—clothes, a wooden practice blade, a necklace Mira had woven, and a stone charm Taren had carved. Then he turned back toward them.
He hugged both parents fiercely.
"I'll make you proud," he whispered."I promise I won't let you down."
Mira wept openly.Taren's voice thickened. "You already do, every day."
"Come, boy," Eiran said gently. "The first step is always the hardest."
Kael took a step toward him—
"KAEL!"
He spun.
Lyria stood at the village gate, hair wild, eyes shining.
"DON'T FORGET OUR PROMISE!" she cried, waving with both arms.
Kael blinked—
Then grinned, brilliant and wide, giving her a thumbs-up that made her beam through her tears.
Then he turned.
And walked beside Master Eiran Thalos into the waiting hills.
⸻
IV. The First Day — The Breaking and the Beginning
By midday, Kael wished he were dead.
Eiran's training grounds sat deep within the ridge—surrounded by pines that whispered secrets and stone cliffs that echoed every cry of effort. Kael had barely set his pack down before the commands began.
"Again!" Eiran barked.
Kael staggered to his feet, panting, arms trembling violently. Sweat soaked his shirt. His breaths came in ragged bursts.
"That was twenty laps," he gasped.
"And now twenty more," Eiran said."You asked to become strong. Strength demands everything."
Kael gritted his teeth and ran.
His legs screamed.His lungs burned.His heart hammered like a war drum.
But he did not stop.
After laps came drills—footwork, strikes, blocks.After drills came balance training on thin beams.After that came meditation until his eyes blurred.
By dusk, Kael lay flat on his back, staring at a sky painted in orange and purple flames.
Eiran stood over him, arms folded.
"Harder than you expected?"
Kael didn't answer. He couldn't.
But he managed a nod.
Eiran's stern mouth twitched, almost approving. "You have potential. But potential is nothing unless you break—and rebuild—yourself."
Kael closed his eyes, chest rising and falling in heavy rhythm.
Wind brushed his fingertips.
I will, he whispered within himself.
For my parents.For Lyria.For the promise I made.For the storm I must one day unleash.For the balance I am destined to restore.
Eiran stepped back.
"Rest, boy. Tomorrow, we begin again."
Kael drifted into exhausted sleep.
And far above, the wind stirred like the breath of a slumbering dragon—
—watching its chosen vessel begin the long, grueling ascent toward destiny.