Three days had passed since the attack. For Kael, those three days felt like three years. The village of Greenwood was now silent. There was no more laughter from children playing in the square, no more roosters crowing in the morning, no more smoke rising from kitchens busy preparing breakfast. All that remained was ash, rubble, and a suffocating silence.
Kael sat on the ruins of what used to be his home. His hands tightly gripped his father's broken sword, the only heirloom left behind. The old iron was rusted and its edge dull. But to Kael, the object was an invaluable treasure. He rubbed his thumb over the metal, feeling every scratch and notch that stood as a witness to his father's final battle.
Around him, the survivors moved with sluggish steps. They picked through the rubble, searching for anything that could still be salvaged. A woman wept in the remains of her kitchen, hugging a cracked clay pot. An old man stood before a fresh grave, his lips moving in a silent prayer. The children did not play. They sat quietly in the corners, their eyes staring blankly into the distance.
"Kael." Mara's voice came from behind. His mother approached with heavy steps, her face pale but her eyes dry. She had no more tears left to cry. In her hand hung a small sack containing clothes and a few kitchen utensils they managed to save. "It's time we go."
Kael turned his head slowly. His once bright eyes now looked dim, yet within them lay something new. Something hard and sharp. "Go where, Mother?"
"To Aunt Helena's house. She lives in the Village of Millbrook, far from the forest. It is safer there." Mara knelt before her son, taking both of Kael's hands into hers. "We cannot stay here anymore, son. There is no house, no farm. And after what happened..." Her voice hitched for a moment. "I am afraid they will return."
"Who, Mother? Those demons?"
Mara nodded with a bowed head. "Yes. They could return at any time. Our village does not have the strength to fight back. Many of the guards have fallen. The Aether barrier is nearly destroyed. If they attack again..." She didn't need to finish her sentence. Kael already understood.
Kael nodded slowly. He did not cry. He could no longer cry. What he felt now was not mere sorrow, but something much deeper. Something that was slowly turning him into a different person. "Alright, Mother. Let's go."
Before leaving, Kael asked permission to visit one place. The old oak tree at the edge of the field, where he and his father used to rest in the final days of peace. Mara allowed it with an understanding gaze, waiting from a distance while clutching her small sack.
The tree still stood, though its leaves had fallen due to the flames that had licked its surroundings. Its massive trunk appeared charred on one side, but on the other, green shoots were beginning to emerge from the cracks in the burnt bark. Kael looked at the tree with calm eyes. Life went on, even after destruction. Even after death.
He sat beneath the tree, gripping the broken sword in his hand. This was where his father had taught him about true strength. This was where he had dreamed of becoming a great soldier. And this was where, right now, he would make his vow.
"Father," he whispered to the wind. "I couldn't do anything that night. I only ran. I left you alone."
The guilt still lingered, piercing him every time he remembered that night. He could see his father's face clearly. Dorian smiling even though his body was wounded. Dorian shouting, ordering him to keep running. Dorian falling before the Shadow Drakes to buy his family time to escape.
"I am a coward," he continued, his voice trembling. "I should have stayed there. I should have helped you fight."
But then, he remembered his father's words. "True strength is the resolve to protect the people you care about." Dorian didn't want Kael to die with him. Dorian wanted Kael to live. To live and protect his mother.
"But I promise," his voice became firmer. "I will not be weak forever. I will become strong. So strong that no demon can hurt me or the people I care about. I will learn to fight. I will learn to use this power, whatever it is."
He raised the broken sword into the air, as if lifting a real blade. The morning sunlight reflected off the dulled iron, creating a brief golden flash. His shadow stretched behind him, long and thin, yet standing tall like a soldier.
"This is my vow, Father. Beneath this tree, where you taught me about true strength. I will protect. No matter what happens. No matter what I must endure. No matter what I must sacrifice. I will protect."
The wind blew gently, carrying the scent of ash and scorched earth. But beneath all that, Kael could smell something else. The scent of new leaves. The scent of new life. The scent of hope.
He stood up, looking at the oak tree one last time. "Goodbye, Father. I will make you proud."
The journey to the Village of Millbrook took half a day. Mara and Kael walked along a dirt path that crossed over hills and fields that were still green. The further they got from Greenwood, the more different the scenery became. Here, there were no traces of destruction. No ash. No bodies. Life seemed normal, as if the war had never happened.
"Mother," Kael broke the silence. "Will this war ever end?"
Mara gazed into the distance, her eyes looking at something Kael could not see. "I do not know, son. Our ancestors have been fighting for a thousand years. Your father fought. And now..." Her voice faded. "All we can do is endure. Endure and hope."
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"Just hoping is not enough," Kael said, his voice louder than he intended. "I will end this war."
Mara turned to him with widened eyes. "Kael, you shouldn't speak like that. A war is not something that can be ended by one person. Not even the Archmages or the Great Generals could do it."
"But Valerius's Prophecy said there is someone who can defeat Malachar," Kael countered with unwavering resolve. "What if that person is me?"
Mara fell silent. She wanted to say that dreams like that were dangerous. That false hope could destroy a person. But when she looked into her son's eyes, she saw something that made her speechless. Resolve. The exact same resolve she had once seen in her husband's eyes.
"Alright," she finally whispered. "If that is your path, then walk it. But do not forget who you are. Do not forget the people who love you. And do not die before your time comes."
The Village of Millbrook was larger than Greenwood. Here there was a bustling small market, several shops selling various necessities, and a watchtower in the center of the village. The defensive walls here were taller and thicker, and the guards appeared more numerous and vigilant.
Aunt Helena's house was located at the edge of the village, not far from the watchtower. It was a modest but sturdy house, made of stone and wood that were still in good condition. A small garden filled with vegetables grew in the front yard, and thin smoke billowed from the chimney.
"Mara!" Helena ran out as she saw them approaching. The woman was younger than Mara, with thick brown hair and a fresh face despite being in her forties. She hugged her older sister tightly. "I heard what happened. Thank goodness you survived."
Mara nodded with teary eyes. "Thank you for taking us in, Hel."
"Don't speak like that. You are family. No matter what happens, you will always have a place here." Helena then turned to Kael, who stood quietly behind his mother. Her expression softened. "And you must be Kael. The last time I saw you, you were a baby. Look how big you've grown." She knelt down, trying to smile. "You are safe here, son. No demon dares approach this village. We have strong guards and an Aether barrier that is still intact."
Kael did not return her smile. He merely nodded slowly. "Thank you, Aunt."
Helena and Mara exchanged a look of shared concern. Kael had changed. The child who was once cheerful and full of laughter had become quiet and serious. His eyes held something that a five-year-old boy shouldn't have. A burden too heavy for his small shoulders.
Days passed. Weeks passed. Kael began to adjust to his new life in the Village of Millbrook. Aunt Helena's house was warm and comfortable, food was plentiful, and there was no demon threat lurking in the dark. But beneath all that comfort, Kael never forgot his vow.
Every morning, before the sun rose, he woke up and trained. In Aunt Helena's backyard, he used tree branches and wooden sticks as substitutes for a sword. He mimicked the movements he had seen from the guards back in his village. Thrusting, parrying, striking, dodging. Basic movements that he repeated hundreds of times each day.
"Kael, what are you doing?" Mara found him in the backyard one morning. The boy's body was sweating, his clothes soaked, and his hands full of blisters. "You've been training since dawn?"
"Training, Mother." Kael didn't stop, continuing to swing his stick with intense concentration. "I have to get stronger."
"You are still small. You should be playing, learning to read, helping your aunt in the kitchen. Look at your hands, they're covered in blisters. It's not healthy."
Kael stopped. He looked at his mother with a gaze that broke Mara's heart. "Mother, I cannot play forever. I made a promise to Father. I will become strong. Strong enough to keep you safe, to protect everyone."
Mara wanted to protest, wanted to say that her son was too young, that he should enjoy his childhood. But the words wouldn't come out. Because she saw something in Kael's eyes. The same resolve she had once seen in her husband's eyes. The same resilience that kept Dorian standing against three Shadow Drakes to protect his family.
"Alright," she finally whispered. "But don't push yourself too hard. And don't forget to eat. Your father wouldn't be happy if you got sick."
Kael nodded, and for the first time since the incident, he smiled. A small smile that lingered on his lips, though it did not touch his eyes. "I promise, Mother."
One afternoon, about a month after their move, Helena asked Kael to buy flour at the market. Kael walked through the village streets, observing the life around him. Merchants hawked their goods, children played in the square, and guards patrolled with watchful eyes.
Near the bakery, he saw a group of children playing sword fights with wooden sticks. They laughed and shouted, mimicking the movements of the soldiers they had heard about in stories.
"Hey!" one of the children called out to him. A boy around seven years old with blonde hair and a round face. "You're the new kid, right? Want to play with us?"
Kael stared at them with flat eyes. "I don't play."
"Huh, why? We're playing soldiers! What do you want to be? A General? Or maybe a demon?" The boy laughed. "If you play the demon, you'll lose every time!"
Kael didn't answer. He kept walking, leaving the children with confused looks. Their game felt... empty. They didn't understand. They didn't see what he saw. Demons weren't a game. Demons were death. Demons were his father lying in a pool of blood.
"You're weird!" the boy shouted from behind. "What kind of boy doesn't want to play sword fights!"
Kael ignored them. He had a different purpose now. Playing wouldn't make him stronger. Playing wouldn't protect his mother. And playing wouldn't avenge his father's death.
One night, about two months after their move, Kael had the dream again. The same dream that had haunted him since he was little. The sky tearing open, dark figures emerging from the rift, and glowing red eyes staring at him from the darkness.
But this time, there was something different.
In his dream, Kael did not run. He did not hide. He stood tall in the midst of the destruction, facing the darkness with an unwavering gaze. From deep within him, something began to stir. A strange heat spread from his chest throughout his body, and then a golden light radiated from his pores.
The light was warm but painful to the creatures of darkness. They retreated, groaning in pain, their bodies evaporating like mist under the sun. The figure with the giant red eyes glared at him with hatred, but it did not approach. It could not approach.
"You..." the voice echoed in his head, cold and full of fury. "You will pay for this."
Kael woke up gasping for breath. His body felt hot, but it wasn't a fever. It was a different kind of heat. A heat that came from within. He looked at his hands, and for a fleeting moment, he saw a golden flash at his fingertips before it vanished like an illusion.
"What is this?" he whispered to himself, his heart still pounding.
He did not know that it was the Light Aether. He did not know that the power hidden in his blood was reacting to his resolve. All he knew was that there was something inside him, something waiting to be awakened.
And he would find a way to master it.
Outside his window, the moon shone brightly. In the distance, the war raged on. The demons still threatened. But in that small room, a child who had lost his childhood had found his path. His journey to become a hero had begun, and nothing could stop him.
— To be continued in Chapter 4 —