Ashikara was born on a night when the wind whistled through the cracks of the castle doors, and the candles in the halls flickered as if they themselves were afraid. There was no laughter, no cheers, no joyful cries only the soft wailing of newborns echoing through the cold corridors.
His mother was Liriel Amarael, a woman of elven blood, whose eyes shone silver and whose voice seemed able to warm even the darkest corners of the castle, though the world around her was strict, cold, and unwelcoming.
His father, King Rayan, was a man of great stature, strong and proud, yet his heart was as hard as stone. He had loved Liriel… truly loved her… and that made everything complicated, for Rayan was already married. Mara, his first wife, was proud, ambitious, and commanding, and her son Kain was the rightful heir to the throne.
When Ashikara was born, Liriel lay exhausted in bed, yet she held him in her arms and smiled faintly. "My son…," she whispered, "no matter… what happens… always… stay kind… and never lose your heart."
No one but she heard those words.
But the weeks that followed were hard. Liriel became ill. At first, it was only fatigue… then pain… then nights when she could barely breathe. The healers stood helpless around her bed, shaking their heads and whispering about illnesses they had never seen.
Mara visited Liriel often. She brought tea… sat by her side… spoke kindly… and smiled. But her eyes were cold… like ice that would never melt.
One morning, Liriel was gone.
Ashikara was still small. He didn't understand why his mother did not wake up. He could not hear her voice… could not see her smile… only feel the empty silence settling in his heart.
When King Rayan was summoned, he stood silently at her bed for a long moment, staring at Liriel's lifeless body, and then his gaze fell on the cradle where Ashikara lay. His face remained stern, his hands trembled slightly. "Since his birth…," he said softly, "she has been sick… since he has been here."
From that day on, Ashikara was alone.
He was shunned by his father. He received no words of comfort… no smile… no sign of approval. When he cried, no one listened. When he fell, no one helped him up.
The servants copied the king's behavior. Some whispered behind cupped hands: "That is the child who killed the elf…" or "He brings misfortune…" and "He does not belong here!"
Kain, his stepbrother, received everything. Praise, training, love, attention. Ashikara received only silence.
Often, he would hide in a small part of the castle he remembered from the days when his mother was still alive. There he sat quietly… staring at a corner or the wall… trying to hold onto the faint memories of Liriel. He could not remember her face clearly, not her voice… only a warm feeling that sometimes crept into his dreams at night and comforted him… at least a little.
One day, his father stopped and looked at him. Just for a moment.
"You are weak!" Rayan said in a cold voice, "and weakness has no place in my family!"
Ashikara lowered his head. He said nothing… yet deep inside him something stirred. Not anger… not yet… but a quiet darkness that slowly grew… patience, waiting for the world to change.