Quefar.
It was a small city far from the war against the demons.
The streets were filled with people and children who never had to see the chaos of the war.
Unlike on the warfront, the buildings here stood tall without the risk of being destroyed in a demon invasion.
"Come on, it's your turn now, Varun!" one of the children in the group, a girl with blonde hair, said to another.
"No way! We've heard it a hundred times already. I don't want to ask," the boy called Varun answered.
"Hey! We all agreed to do it. Now it is your turn! What do you think Eira would do?" another child cut in. He looked like the oldest among them.
"Don't bring Eira into this! She already left. She won't come back here!" Varun snapped, though he still turned toward the building across the street. The others were right. He couldn't be the only one who didn't do it.
They were children from the nearby orphanage. Thanks to the city's management, even they lived comfortably. Well, as comfortable as one could get in an orphanage. Still, while their clothes were patched, they were enough to protect the children from the cold.
The group was standing across from the bakery. In front of the bakery was an old man sitting on his rocking chair. His cane rested across his knee.
Varun looked at him, then crossed the street with the other children trailing behind. He hesitated before every step, but the others crowded behind and pushed him forward. Being the smallest among them, he gave way easily.
With that, he was already in front of the old man. All he needed to do was ask him for a story. However, they had heard this story as many times as there were children in the group.
So he worried about disturbing the old man's rest once again just to hear the same story.
Luckily, he didn't need to ask.
"Ooh! Have you come to listen to the story once again?" the old man asked when he saw Varun and the other children approach.
Varun nodded shyly. He had grown up in the orphanage and did not remember his parents, and somewhere along the way, being smaller than the others had taught him to lower his voice before he spoke.
But the old man had saved him from having to talk at all.
"Hehe! Then I will tell you about it..."
---
Quefar.
It meant "future" in the ancient language.
No one knew why the city was called that, but the legend drew many visitors seeking the truth behind it and added to its prosperity.
It was rumored that Quefar was the city of second chances.
And there was an artifact—a sword said to bring the present and future together.
---
"Old man!" the older boy shouted, "What does bringing the present and future together mean?"
Before the old man could answer, another boy cut in. "Are you dumb? It obviously means that you get to turn back time or go to the past!"
"No way! If time travel were real, humans would have already beaten all the demons!"
"That's if they could find the sword!"
"Since no one found it, doesn't that mean it doesn't exist?" Varun asked, interrupting the other children's discussion.
"Hehe," the old man smiled and looked at Varun. "Your future seems bright. But if something isn't found, it doesn't mean it doesn't exist."
All the children looked at Varun as if the old man had proved him wrong.
"Also, I didn't—"
"Grandpa!" Someone shouted as the bakery door opened, and a woman stepped out of it.
Slam!
Varun looked at her as she closed the door with anger. The bakery door slammed so hard the glass rattled. Her long brown hair swung with the force of the impact.
"Isn't it enough that you keep filling these children's heads with false hope?" she reprimanded the old man.
"Amaya, my beautiful girl. What do you mean? My stories aren't false hope; they are real," the old man said calmly to his granddaughter.
Amaya was one of the staff members of the orphanage. But since her parents owned the bakery, she sometimes came to help when she was free.
So, she knew all the children here, and the children knew her.
"Then why don't you go to the past and make yourself young again?" she said sarcastically. "Maybe you could spend less time daydreaming and more time helping me with the morning rush, then."
"Miss Amaya, please don't say that. We asked him to tell us the story," Varun said hastily.
Amaya was part of his earliest memories. He still remembered her crouching to tie his shoes when he was too small to do it himself. So he couldn't bear the thought of her arguing with her grandfather because of him.
"Ah, Varun." Amaya's expression softened when she saw Varun's apologetic face and the tears gathering in his eyes. "Don't worry, I didn't mean what I said. It was just a joke!"
"Really?" Varun asked, looking at the other children.
No matter what, they were all just that, children. So they were all left puzzled by what Amaya had said, even if it really was a joke. To them, the line between a bitter joke and a cruel truth was too thin to see.
The old man laughed once again. "Haha, of course, of course. Your heart seems as bright as your future. Do you want to listen to a different story? For example, why are the top 100 heroes called the Vessels?"
All the children, except for Varun, turned toward the old man once more with their eyes shining. For the last month, all they had asked about was the sword. So they hadn't listened to any other stories.
"Hehe, it seems like you want to hear it. Well, it is not because—"
"Grandpa! I told you that was enough." Amaya cut him off again before turning toward Varun. She smiled and gave him a bag. "Take this and share with the others. I was bringing them to you anyway."
The bag was filled with fresh pastries. Amaya did this sometimes, never waiting for leftovers, always setting a few aside from the newest batch for the orphanage children.
Sweets were rare enough in their lives that the scent of cinnamon and sugar drifting from the bag alone made all their eyes light up.
Apart from the dry raisin bread the orphanage gave them once a month, the treats Amaya brought were the only sweets they ever got to taste.
"Miss Amaya, thank you so much!" all the children shouted together before hurrying off with the pastries Varun handed out.
Varun was the last one to leave as he looked at Amaya and the old man. "Thank you for telling us your story once more," he said to the old man before he left.
Amaya smiled sadly as she watched the children run off with pastries in their hands.
"Don't worry. They'll be okay," the old man said. Then, he slowly rose from his chair and made his way back into the bakery with his cane.
***
"What do you think about the old man's story?" Meghna, the blonde-haired girl, asked the others.
The children lingered on the park bench long after the last pastry crumbs were gone, watching the sun dip low and bleed into a bruised purple sky.
"I think we should look around for the sword!"
"And what will you do with it? Even if you go to the past, you can't change anything."
"Hehe! Then I will memorize the lottery numbers. And when I find the sword, I will be rich!"
Something to change... Varun, too, thought about what he would change if he could go back in time.
At only twelve years old, there wasn't much he could change. But there was one thing he wanted to change more than anything.
Eira...
But the others' argument pulled him out of his thoughts.
"Are you all idiots?" one of the children with glasses said. "Don't you know that old man is lying?"
"And how do you know that?"
"Everyone in the city knows him. He is just a crazy old man."
The others had obviously heard the rumors about the old man, too.
Maybe they hoped the story was real.
Meghna stood up from the park bench she was sitting on. "I believe him!"
Ignoring the others' surprised looks, she continued, "You will see it! One day, I will become a hero like Llyr and find the sword!"
After staring at her for a moment longer, all the children except Varun started laughing, unable to hold it in.
"Llyr? Really? Couldn't you at least find a strong hero?"
"She isn't even among the top 10!"
The older boy said, and the boy with glasses followed. They rarely shared an idea.
"Stop it! Llyr is strong! That hero list isn't about strength, but about contribution," Meghna snapped.
"Yeah, yeah. You are right. And the stronger ones contribute more. Am I wrong? Are you saying she is stronger than Geratt, the number 1 hero?"
"I-I didn't say that. It's just..." Meghna couldn't finish her sentence.
"Maybe," Varun chimed in, "Llyr doesn't want to be the number 1 hero."
"What kind of nonsense is that?" the older boy asked with a frown.
"Y-you know, the top heroes disappear after a while. Maybe she didn't want to disappear," Varun said shyly.
"Yes! You are right. That must be it! Thank you, Varun," Meghna's eyes lit up as she looked at Varun's explanation.
But the other children didn't seem to like it. "Come on, Varun. You don't have to take her side just because she got upset," the older boy said.
"He is right. You don't need to make up stories just for her sake," the boy with glasses said.
That only made Varun lower his head further.
"He didn't make it up! It must be true. I am sure..."
While Meghna kept arguing with the others, clinging to Varun's explanation, Varun slipped away from the park alone.
***
The children never wandered far away from the orphanage. The rules said they had to remain close enough to be called back at any moment.
No matter how safe the city was, demons remained a constant threat. If they were to breach the walls, the children would need to take shelter at the orphanage immediately, though it hadn't happened in the history of Quefar.
But today, Varun didn't walk toward the orphanage. The only time the orphanage felt like a place he belonged was when Amaya was there.
He wasn't really good with other children or the other staff members. He was thankful to them, but that was all.
And after today, he wondered if the other children felt the same way about him.
But he had been too lost in thought to watch where he was going. Especially in a part of the city he didn't know well.
He found himself at the edge of a small forest tucked inside the city. Varun took a step back as soon as he realized where he was.
The forest itself wasn't dangerous; Quefar was too well protected for that.
The problem was that he had no idea where he was. He would probably need to get help from a grown-up to go back to the orphanage. And he would probably be scolded by the staff.
But the abrupt step backward made him lose his balance and tumble onto the dirt after a bit of struggle.
"Ai!"
His face slammed into the ground, and tears sprang to his eyes.
There was no one around to help him up. But he was already used to that. Most of the time, there was no one to help him.
He didn't feel strong enough to get up by himself. He didn't have any physical issues.
He was only a sad twelve-year-old, and today the weight of that sadness felt heavier than usual.
I wish I were stronger. Then they would accept me. Then I wouldn't always feel so helpless. Then, maybe, I could go with her! he screamed in his mind.
That was when it happened.
A low vibration ran through the earth beneath his palms. But it got stronger in seconds.
Even though he had fallen on flat ground, he suddenly felt gravity shift beneath him, as if the earth had tilted into a slope.
"No!"
When he raised his head, he realized the flat ground beneath him was gone.
He started tumbling down the slope and into the darkness.