The lavender-scented sheets offered no comfort. Ravon lay in the dark, staring up at the wooden ceiling. Every time he closed his eyes, the image of Lila tumbling helplessly toward the deafening black vortex flashed behind his eyelids.
I was supposed to protect her, he thought, twisting the heavy blanket in his small fists.
A sudden, sharp spike of pain split his skull. He squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth as the dark bedroom melted away.
A butterfly with wings of pure, shifting light fluttered just out of reach. He was running. Small, five-year-old legs carried him through an impossibly bright garden. The air smelled of blooming jasmine and ancient, comforting warmth. There were no shadows here.
"Play carefully, little one," a gentle, deeply resonant male voice echoed through the vibrant trees.
The memory shifted. The same gentle hands were straightening the collar of his shirt. The man knelt before him, his face obscured by a blinding, warm radiance. "You possess a heavy heart, Ravon. You were born to protect. One day, you will protect the world."
The vision shattered. Ravon shot up in bed, sitting cross-legged on the mattress as he grabbed his throbbing head. He gasped for air, his golden core beating a frantic, heavy rhythm against his ribs.
"Who was that?" he whispered to the empty room.
He dug his fingers into his messy black hair. Born to protect the world? The words felt like a cruel joke. He couldn't even control a simple wind spell without nearly tearing his own family apart. How could he possibly save anyone?
You were born to protect.
The voice echoed one last time, vibrating deep within his chest, before fading into the quiet night. The dull ache in his head slowly subsided. Exhausted and thoroughly lost, Ravon laid back down and pulled the blankets up to his chin.
Bitter winter wind bit at his lungs. Breath plumed like smoke in the freezing air.
CRACK. CRACK.
A heavy wooden practice sword slammed violently into the padded torso of a training dummy. Ravon pivoted his back foot, chained a double-slash across the dummy's chest, and drove the blunt tip straight forward. The wood tore through the thick canvas, punching a ragged hole directly into the dummy's stomach.
"Your footwork is perfect."
Mira sat on the icy porch stairs, wrapped tightly in a thick wool shawl. Her breath clouded the air as she watched the boy reset his stance. "But it has been an entire year since the pond, Ravon. Why aren't you letting me teach you any new magic?"
Ravon didn't lower his sword. He kept his eyes locked on the battered dummy. "I'll protect everyone with my sword."
"You were so curious to learn before," Mira pressed gently, her amber eyes filled with concern. "Your excitement disappeared the day of the storm. Are you still blaming yourself?"
Ravon gripped the hilt tighter. The leather creaked under the strain. "Because of my magic, Lila almost died. I don't want to learn any new spells. They're too dangerous. I'll fight with the sword and the basic magic I already know."
Mira stood up, pulling the shawl tighter around her shoulders. "Sweetheart, you are just a kid. You cannot carry this guilt forever. It was my fault for giving you that grimoire without a proper warning."
Ravon ignored her. He stepped forward, lunging at the dummy with another brutal, breathless strike.
Seasons bled into one another. The winter snow melted into spring mud, baked into summer dust, and froze over again. Through it all, the rhythmic crack of wood against canvas echoed endlessly across the yard. Ravon's frame grew taller, his shoulders broadening under Darius's relentless physical conditioning.
By the edge of the training ground, Lila grew right alongside him. The tiny toddler became a bright, energetic three-year-old. She would sit in the grass, clapping her small hands and cheering him on with broken, enthusiastic sentences.
"Go, Ray-Ray! Beat the bad guy!"
Whenever she cheered, the heavy guilt in his chest lightened, and his swings struck just a little bit faster.
One more year slipped by in a blur of sweat and bruised knuckles.
Warm, soapy water sloshed in the iron basin.
After dinner, the kitchen was quiet save for the clatter of ceramic plates. Ravon dried a heavy bowl with a cloth, setting it perfectly onto the wooden rack. He is ten years old now.
"I'm ready to join the Adventurer's Guild," he said quietly.
Mira froze. The soapy plate in her hands hovered inches above the water. Taking a slow, measured breath, she gently lowered the dish and dried her hands on her apron.
"You don't need to rush to join the Guild," she said, keeping her voice incredibly steady.
"I need to find my family," Ravon explained, turning to look at her. "I keep having dreams. The same gentle voice, telling me I was born to protect people. I need to know who he is. I need to know how I ended up in the Beast Forest."
Mira leaned against the counter, a profound sadness softening her features. "You are still carrying the weight of that storm, Ravon. That is why you are having these dreams." She walked over and rested a warm hand on his shoulder. "If you truly want to join the Guild, I won't stop you. But you need to get Darius's permission to leave."
"I'll ask him tomorrow," Ravon promised, hanging his drying cloth neatly over the basin edge.
The next evening, Darius sat on the plush living room couch, blowing steam off a hot mug of tea. Ravon stood squarely in front of him, his posture completely straight.
"I've crossed the ten-year age requirement," Ravon declared. "I'm ready to join."
Darius stopped mid-sip. He slowly lowered the mug to the low wooden table. He looked up, studying the boy who had arrived bleeding and broken four years ago. The fragile child was gone, replaced by a disciplined, sharp-eyed fighter.
"So, you've finally decided to start your own adventure," the warrior rumbled. A small, proud smile tugged at his scarred jaw. "Alright. But if you want to join the Guild, you need to impress me first."
Darius stood up, his broad frame towering over the boy. "If you can succeed in landing a single attack on me, I will let you go. And honestly? Even if you don't hit me, I won't stop you. But if you're ready, grab your wooden sword and meet me in the yard."
Ten minutes later, the dirt training ground was bathed in the orange glow of the setting sun. Mira and Lila sat on the porch stairs, watching the two combatants face off.
"I won't use any physical enchantments, and I won't use magic," Darius promised, casually resting his wooden practice sword over his broad shoulder. "Your only task is to land a hit on me."
Ravon tightened his grip on his hilt. The golden warmth of his core flared to life.
He exploded off his back foot. Closing the distance in a fraction of a second, Ravon swung his blade in a vicious arc aimed directly at the right side of the warrior's torso. Darius didn't even flinch. He simply dropped his right hand, catching the incoming wooden blade effortlessly with his own hilt.
The moment the swords clashed, Ravon thrust his left hand forward. A bright, roaring fireball materialized from his palm, shooting point-blank at Darius's chest.
Darius calmly raised his left forearm, deflecting the blazing magic away with his thick leather bracer as if swatting a fly.
Using the recoil of the blocked sword, Ravon pushed backward, skidding across the dirt to create distance. Without missing a beat, he chanted rapidly, launching three high-speed spheres of compressed water at the warrior's head.
Right as the water was about to make an impact, Ravon funneled a bright green string of Motion magic into his legs. He blurred forward, appearing instantly behind Darius, sweeping his blade low to take out the man's knees.
"Not bad," Darius chuckled.
The warrior executed a flawless backflip. He sailed cleanly over the incoming water balls and over Ravon's sweeping blade. Landing perfectly behind the boy, Darius snapped his leg out. The heavy boot caught Ravon square in the back.
The impact launched the boy forward, sending him crashing face-first into the dirt.
Ravon groaned, struggling to push himself up. His white shirt was caked in brown dust. He wiped a streak of dirt from his mouth with his forearm, his lungs burning from the exertion.
Darius rested his sword back on his shoulder. "Is this all you've got after training for four years?"
Ravon didn't say a word. He looked at his wooden sword in the dirt. Slowly, he opened his hand and let the hilt go.
Darius frowned, his guard dropping slightly. Is he surrendering? On the porch, Mira leaned forward, confused by the sudden defeat.
Instantly, Ravon pushed himself up from the dirt, his golden core roaring to life. He raised both hands, drawing on the grueling multi-summoning drills he had practiced at the pond. Three roaring fireballs sparked to life, hovering rapidly over his right palm. Over his left, three heavy spheres of compressed water materialized.
With a sharp exhale, he threw them all at once. But he didn't aim at the warrior. He aimed directly at the ground halfway between them.
The fire and water violently collided in the dirt.
HISSSSSS.
An immense, explosive cloud of blinding white steam materialized instantly. Within a single second, the entire training ground was swallowed in an impenetrable, boiling mist.
Darius coughed, his vision completely obscured. The sound of shifting dirt echoed from every direction.
Ravon burst from the white fog on the right side. His muscles flared with the red aura of Strength, and his boots blurred with the green aura of Speed. He swung his recovered wooden sword with bone-breaking force. Darius barely raised his blade in time to block, the sheer impact vibrating violently up his arm.
Before Darius could counter, Ravon abandoned the clash, vanishing seamlessly back into the fog.
A barrage of fireballs suddenly shot out of the mist from all angles. Darius spun, batting the blazing spheres out of the air with his wooden blade. Singed wood and the smell of ozone filled the heavy air, but Darius deflected every single one.
"Enough of this hide-and-seek!" Darius boomed.
Planting his boots, the warrior gripped his sword with both hands. He swung the wooden blade in a colossal, horizontal arc. The sheer, terrifying brute force of the swing generated a staggering shockwave of wind. The gale ripped through the yard, violently blowing the heavy mist away into the forest. Even Mira felt the concussive push from the porch, holding onto Lila as the toddler giggled at the sudden breeze.
The mist cleared. Darius scanned the empty dirt. Ravon wasn't in front of him.
He snapped his head up.
Using the fierce updraft generated by Darius's own swing, Ravon had launched himself twenty feet into the air. He was already plummeting downward, his sword raised high for a descending strike aimed right at the warrior's shoulder.
Darius grinned and raised his weapon for a heavy block.
CRACK.
The moment Darius flexed his grip, his wooden sword shattered in his hands. The intense thermal shock of batting away Ravon's fireballs, combined with the dampness of the steam, had turned the training weapon brittle.
With Darius's guard broken, Ravon's wooden blade tapped cleanly and firmly against the warrior's broad shoulder.
Ravon hit the dirt, rolling gracefully to absorb the fall. He dropped his sword, his chest heaving as he gasped for air. He looked up at the towering man holding a broken hilt.
"I won," Ravon panted.
Darius dropped the broken wood. A booming laugh echoed across the yard. He stepped forward and proudly ruffled Ravon's dusty black hair. "You kept your head," the warrior praised, his dark eyes shining with absolute respect. "You controlled the field, and you didn't fight recklessly. Yes, kid. You won."
"Ray-Ray won! Ray-Ray won!" Lila cheered, jumping up and down on the stairs.
Mira clapped her hands, a brilliant smile on her face. But as she watched the boy catch his breath, tears welled silently in her amber eyes, knowing exactly what this victory meant.
The dining table was packed with food. Platters of perfectly seared boar meat, bowls of sweet berries, thick gravy, and fresh-baked bread filled the room with mouth-watering aromas. Tonight was special. There was sweet fruit juice for the children and strong, amber liquor for the adults.
"To Ravon's tenth birthday!" Darius declared, raising his heavy wooden mug.
They clinked their cups together, the sound of celebration filling the warm house. Darius tore into a piece of meat, pointing his fork at the boy.
"That mist tactic was brilliant," the warrior praised. "Combining basic elements to blind an opponent instead of relying on a big, flashy spell. You fight like a true veteran."
"My teaching paid off," Mira smiled, wiping a spot of gravy from Lila's chin.
Ravon looked down at his plate. The warmth of the hearth, the smell of the food, the familiar, comforting laughter—it was everything he had ever wanted. A lump formed in his throat.
"I'm very happy here," Ravon said quietly. The table went silent. "I don't want to leave you. But I can't stay forever. I need to know how I got separated from my family. I need to find them."
Darius set his mug down. The playful energy faded, replaced by absolute, fatherly respect. "As I promised, I won't stop you. But you have to promise me one thing in return." The warrior leaned forward. "When you find your answers... you come back and visit us."
Ravon looked up, his red eyes shining. "I promise."
Mira reached across the table, her hand trembling slightly as she cupped his pale cheek. She offered a fragile, beautiful smile, though a single tear finally escaped, tracking slowly down her face. She pulled him into a sudden, fierce embrace. She didn't say the words out loud, but the desperate, aching grip of her arms told him everything.
He was really leaving.
The night air was freezing, but the sky was perfectly clear.
Ravon sat on the cold wooden boards of the porch stairs, his knees pulled up to his chest. Beside him, bundled tightly in a thick wool blanket, Lila leaned her head against his arm.
"Your big brother is going to join the Guild soon," Ravon whispered, staring out into the dark treeline of the Beast Forest. "I'm going to find out where I came from."
Lila blinked sleepily, not fully understanding the weight of the words, but sensing the melancholy in his voice.
"I'll miss you," Ravon continued, his voice catching slightly in his throat. "But I promise I'll return one day."
He reached out, pointing a finger toward the sky. High above the forest, a single, brilliantly bright star twinkled against the pitch-black canvas.
"Do you see that one?" he asked softly. "That star is mine. I'll be looking down at you through that star every single day."
Lila traced his finger up to the sky. Her tired eyes locked onto the glowing light. "Star..." she mumbled in a broken, sleepy sentence. "Big bruh-ther."
Ravon smiled, resting his chin on top of her head. "Yeah. Whenever you feel lonely, just talk to me through that star. I'll always be listening."
Lila didn't answer. Her breathing had already slowed into a deep, peaceful rhythm, her small head resting heavily against his shoulder. Ravon sat in the quiet dark for a long time, committing the peaceful silence of the forest to memory.
Finally, he stood up. Gently gathering his sleeping little sister into his arms, the boy who was born to protect carried her inside, ready to face the world.