“Mom! Do I really have to learn about history right now? I want to go train with Dad some more!”
The young boy slumped over the round wooden table, his chin resting heavily in one hand while the other lazily held a pencil.
His messy black hair fell into his eyes as he stared down at the thick book spread open before him.
The History of Velora.
The letters felt heavier than any training sword his father had ever given him.
Across the small farmhouse kitchen, his mother let out a quiet laugh.
She set down the basket of vegetables she had been sorting and walked over to the table.
Sunlight streamed through the nearby window, catching in her auburn hair as she sat beside him.
“Yes, Riven” she said gently, sliding the book a little closer to him.
“You do.”
Riven groaned dramatically.
“But Mom…”
“The history of this world matters,” she continued patiently.
“If you understand the past, you understand why the world is the way it is today.”
She tapped the open page with her finger.
“And if you read carefully, you might even learn something about the war your father fought in.”
That immediately caught the boy’s attention.
His dim golden eyes lifted from the book.
“Dad fought in a war?”
His mother smiled softly.
“Yes. The Veloran Unification War.”
She turned the book toward him so they could both see the map printed across the pages.
“This,” she said, pointing across the parchment illustration, “is the continent of Velora.”
The map showed five great nations spread across the land, separated by mountains, rivers, and forests.
“For centuries,” she continued, “Velora was divided among powerful kingdoms. Each one ruled its people differently.”
Her finger moved across the map.
“Solhavyn,” she said first.
“A land that values freedom above all else. Their people roam where they please, and slavery is forbidden there.”
Her finger moved again.
“Bavaria — the breadbasket of the continent. Their fertile land feeds much of Velora.”
“And Myrrhland,” she continued, pointing toward a mountainous region.
“A nation built on steel, mining, and powerful warriors.”
Riven leaned closer, listening intently now.
“What about the others?”
His mother nodded.
“Crestara,” she said quietly.
“A wealthy nation ruled by nobles who believe power and status define a person’s worth.”
Her expression darkened slightly.
“They enforce slavery on those who fall into debt.”
Riven frowned.
“That doesn’t sound fair.”
“No,” she agreed softly.
“It isn’t.”
Her finger moved one last time.
“And then there is Kavara this is where we live. A land where the people rule themselves. They don’t rely on money like other nations — they trade what they have and support one another.”
Riven looked down at the map, imagining the vast world beyond the wheat fields of Sulmere.
“So… what does that have to do with the war? And how long ago was it?”
His mother turned the page slowly.
“The Veloran Unification War began exactly 8 years ago when one kingdom tried to conquer the rest of Velora.”
Riven’s eyes widened.
“Who?”
“There once used to be a nation called Dravaryn; their land has since been claimed by Crestara,” she said quietly.
“Their ruler believed the continent should belong to one crown.”
Riven tilted his head.
“Wouldn’t that stop wars?”
His mother chuckled softly.
“It might have… if he had tried to unite the kingdoms peacefully.”
She closed the book halfway.
“But instead, he built an army.”
Riven leaned forward.
“A big army?”
“The largest Velora had seen in generations.”
Her voice grew quieter.
“He gathered warriors… mages… and powerful Vyr users.”
Riven tilted his head, his golden eyes filled with curiosity.
“…Vyr users?”
He looked up at his mother.
“What’s a Vyr user?”
Maelina smiled softly.
She had expected that question.
She reached over and gently brushed a strand of black hair away from his face before placing a hand against his small chest.
“Do you feel your heartbeat?”
Riven nodded.
“…Yeah.”
“Well, just like your heart pumps blood through your body…”
She lightly tapped the center of his chest.
“…your soul carries something called Vyr.”
“It is the strength that exists inside every living thing.”
“The birds flying overhead, the deer running through the forest, even the flowers growing in the fields.”
“They all possess Vyr.”
Riven’s eyes grew wide.
“So…”
“I have Vyr too?”
His mother chuckled.
“Of course you do.”
“Everyone is born with it.”
“But only a few people ever learn how to awaken it.”
“When someone awakens their Vyr…”
She paused, searching for words a child could understand.
“…it’s almost like their soul begins to speak.”
“It reveals the path they were always meant to walk.”
Riven stared down at his hands, slowly opening and closing them.
“…Can Dad use Vyr?”
Maelina laughed.
“Oh, yes.”
“Matter of fact your grandfather is one of the strongest Vyr users I’ve ever known.”
“He probably just forgot to tell you what it was called.”
Riven smiled.
“That sounds like Grandpa.”
“It does.”
She laughed with him before continuing.
“There are five known paths a person’s Vyr can awaken into.”
She held up one finger.
“The first are called Bladebearers.”
“They shape their Vyr into elegant blades or strengthen the swords they already carry.”
“They’re fast, precise, and rely on skill more than brute strength.”
She smiled toward the sword resting against the cabin wall.
“Your father is a Bladebearer.”
Riven immediately looked at the sword with admiration.
“I want to be one too.”
“I know you do.”
She gently ruffled his hair before raising a second finger.
“The second path is the Vanguard.”
“They’re the protectors.”
“They surround themselves with powerful armor forged from their Vyr and wield enormous weapons that few others could even lift.”
“They stand between danger and the people they protect.”
A third finger.
“Then there are the Fistwalkers.”
“They don’t need swords.”
“They train their bodies until every punch carries the strength of a hammer.”
“The greatest among them can shatter stone with their bare hands.”
Riven blinked.
“…Without a sword?”
Maelina nodded.
“Without a sword.”
She lifted a fourth finger.
“The fourth path belongs to the Skyshots.”
“They create bows from pure Vyr.”
“Their arrows travel farther and faster than any ordinary arrow ever could.”
“They can protect an entire village without an enemy ever reaching its walls.”
Finally…
She raised her last finger.
“And the last path is the Lifebinders.”
Her voice became softer.
“They don’t fight to defeat others.”
“They fight to save them.”
“They use their own Vyr to heal wounds, mend broken bones, and ease another person’s pain.”
“They’re often the reason soldiers make it home to their families.”
For several moments…
Riven sat quietly.
His mind raced with images of armored warriors, glowing swords, flying arrows, and healers bringing people back from the brink of death.
Then another question appeared.
“…Can someone learn all five?”
Maelina smiled.
“That’s something scholars have argued about for hundreds of years.”
She looked out toward the forest for a moment before meeting her son’s eyes again.
“But most believe that a person’s Vyr chooses only one path.”
“You don’t decide who you become.”
“Your soul does.”
Riven looked down at his small hands once more.
“…I hope my soul likes swords.”
Maelina couldn’t help but laugh.
She leaned forward and kissed his forehead.
“Whatever path your soul chooses…”
She smiled warmly.
“…I know you’ll make us proud.”
She hesitated for a moment before continuing.
“Much of the war was fought in a region once called Yewshade.” she pointed at an area in the middle of the map.
“They were located in the middle of the continent.”
Riven frowned.
“I’ve never heard of that place.”
“That’s because it too vanished after the war.”
The boy blinked.
“What do you mean?”
His mother’s gaze drifted toward the window, toward the distant forests beyond their farm.
“Yewshade was once a vast land of ancient forests and hidden valleys. It was older than any kingdom in Velora. It was said to be the first nation to be founded”
Her voice softened.
“Legends say it was once home to a mysterious group known as the Soulbinders.”
Riven sat up straighter.
“Soulbinders?”
She nodded.
“People who could hear wandering souls and form bonds with them.”
Riven’s eyes widened.
“Like… ghosts?”
“Not exactly.”
She smiled faintly.
“They were said to borrow the strength, wisdom, and power of those souls.”
Riven leaned forward eagerly.
“Did they really exist?”
“Some say they did.”
She brushed a strand of hair from his forehead.
“But their order disappeared centuries ago.”
“What happened to them?”
“No one knows for sure,” she admitted.
“Some believe their power was too dangerous and they had to be eradicated while others believe that they were a wonder that had to be valued.”
Riven looked down at the map again.
“So what happened to Yewshade?”
Her expression darkened.
“The war happened.”
Her voice dropped to almost a whisper.
“Battles there were so fierce that the forests burned for weeks. Entire cities were destroyed.”
She rested her hand gently on the book.
“When the war finally ended… Yewshade and Dravaryn were nothing but ruins. Their land was divided among nearby nations.”
Riven swallowed.
“And Dad fought there?”
His mother nodded.
“Yes.”
Her voice softened again.
“He fought to make sure the war never spread to places like this.”
Riven looked around their small farmhouse.
The warm lantern light.
The quiet wheat fields outside.
The peaceful life they lived.
“Was it scary?” he asked quietly.
His mother smiled sadly.
“War always is.”
She closed the book completely.
“That’s why history matters, Riven. So we remember what happens when people chase power without thinking of the cost.”
Riven thought about that for a long moment.
Then curiosity crept back into his eyes.
“So… if the Soulbinders disappeared…”
He leaned closer.
“…does that mean that class is gone forever?”
His mother chuckled softly.
“Maybe. There could be one out there hiding.”
She stood and ruffled his hair.
“But for now, you should finish your lesson.”
Riven groaned again as she walked back toward the kitchen.
Outside, the wind rustled through the golden wheat fields.
After Riven finally finished his lesson he joined his father outside.
Gripping a small wooden sword in both hands.
He swung wildly at the air with all the seriousness a young child could muster.
His father watched from across the room, arms folded.
“Again,” the father said.
The boy swung harder this time, shouting as he did.
The blade slipped from his hands and clattered across the floor.
His father laughed and walked over, kneeling beside him.
“Remember son, a sword is a tool of power,” he said gently, adjusting Riven’s grip.
” It reflects the strength of those who wield it.”
The boy looked up.
“So I have to be strong..? ”
His father smiled.
“Yes. Both mentally and physically. You need to be ready to do whatever you need to survive.”
Across the room, The boy’s mom set bowls on the table, watching them with warm eyes.
“My brave warrior, Riven” she teased, kneeling to brush dust from Riven’s hair.
“Just remember — true strength comes from here.”
She pressed a finger gently against his chest.
“Your heart?”
“And your soul,” she whispered.
Riven grinned.
“One day I’ll be the strongest!”
Riven’s dad and mom exchanged a quiet look — pride mixed with something unspoken.
Outside, distant thunder rolled across the fields.
Neither of them commented on it.
“Don’t forget tomorrow you have to go and get the meat from Old man Young.” said the boy’s father.
“Oh Oliver let the boy enjoy his moment.” Riven’s mom says hitting the dad in the arm.
“Maelina the boy has duties.” Oliver says, grabbing his arm.
Riven couldn’t help but laugh as his mom and dad followed suit.
Laughter filled the air that night.
The next morning dawned bright and clear over the village of Sulmere.
A gentle breeze swept through the endless wheat fields surrounding the town, setting the tall golden stalks swaying like waves across a quiet sea.
Sulmere rested beside a wide river that fed its crops and sustained the farmers who called it home.
Laughter echoed through the fields.
A young boy ran between the rows of wheat, his fingers brushing through the tall stalks as he passed.
A small backpack bounced against his back with every step, stuffed with simple trading supplies.
He ran with the careless joy only children possessed.
Soon he reached a small house at the edge of the fields — a weathered building whose faded wood and crooked roof showed the weight of many years.
The boy cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted toward the nearby shed.
“Mr. Young! My dad sent me to trade with you! I brought carrots!”
He burst into laughter immediately after, unable to contain his excitement.
A moment later the door of the shed creaked open.
An elderly man stepped out slowly, holding three wrapped cuts of meat in his hands.
His movements were slow but steady as he walked toward the boy.
“You know,” the old man said with a faint smile, “I’m not deaf.”
He handed over the meat.
“Just old.”
The boy only laughed harder.
They exchanged their goods quickly, and the boy slung his backpack over his shoulder again before sprinting back toward the fields.
His laughter faded as he disappeared into the golden wheat.
The old man watched him go and shook his head gently.
“That boy could bring joy to the world with just a smile.”
A quiet smile spread across his own face as he turned and returned to his shed.
The boy ran through the fields toward home.
As he approached the small farmhouse, he saw his parents waiting on the porch.
His face lit up immediately.
“Mom! Dad! I’m back — and I brought the food!”
He rushed forward and leapt into his father’s arms.
The man laughed warmly as he lifted the boy high into the air before setting him back down.
“Go put the food on the table,” his father said.
“Then get ready for dinner.”
The boy ran toward the door, but his mother gently stopped him and kissed his forehead before letting him pass.
Hours later, the sun dipped below the horizon.
The family gathered around the small wooden table as evening settled over the quiet village.
Warm lamplight filled the room as they prepared to eat together.
Then—
A scream shattered the silence outside.
The father froze then another scream echoed through the village.
He shot to his feet.
“Stay here,” he told his wife and son.
He moved to the door and opened it slightly, peering into the dark.
Seeing distant fires burned against the night sky.
Villagers ran through the streets in panic as shouts and cries echoed through the town.
The father slammed the door shut and turned back toward his family, panic flashing across his face.
“Maelina! Riven!” he called urgently.
“Bandits are here — we need to leave now!”
He grabbed his son’s shoulders.
“Riven, stay behind me. Don’t move unless I tell you.”
The boy nodded, his small hands trembling as he clutched tightly to his father’s shirt.
The family rushed from their home, carrying only what they could grab in their panic.
Oliver stepped forward, placing himself between his family and the door.
Then something strange happened.
A faint energy spread across his body.
It hardened around him like invisible armor.
A blade of radiant energy formed in his hand, humming softly with power.
He turned to his son.
“Riven… no matter what happens, I want you to run.”
His voice was steady despite the chaos outside.
“Run to the forest and don’t stop until you reach the next town.”
Riven nodded, trying to be brave, but his small body trembled uncontrollably.
His mother knelt beside him and gently took his hands.
“Remember,” she whispered softly, “no matter what happens, we love you.”
Her eyes shimmered with tears.
“We will always be with you.”
She kissed his forehead.
Oliver crouched beside them.
“You’re strong, Riven,” he said quietly.
“Stronger than anyone.”
He stood and opened the door.
“Get ready… run!”
Riven ran.
Tears blurred his vision as he sprinted toward the forest.
The spikes of wheat slap his arm as he runs, his heart pounding violently in his chest.
At last he reached the edge of the forest.
But despite his father’s warning…he turned back.
What he saw shattered his world.
His parents fought desperately against the bandits, surrounded on all sides.
His mother fell first.
Oliver rushed to her side—and in that moment a blade pierced his back.
Riven screamed.
A massive bandit stepped forward, his body covered in scars.
Blood dripped from his weapon as he stood over Riven’s parents.
The bandit slowly turned toward the sound of the boy’s cry.
Their eyes met and the man pointed.
The bandits turned.
Their eyes locked onto him.
Riven ran.
He fled deeper into the forest, branches tearing at his clothes as he pushed through the darkness.
His lungs burned.
His legs screamed.
But he did not stop.
At last he collapsed against a tree, gasping for air.
No one was behind him.
He had escaped.
Or so he thought.
A hand suddenly seized his throat.
Riven was lifted off the ground as a bandit stepped from the shadows, gripping him with one arm.
The man grinned cruelly.
“I finally got you, you little shit.”
Riven clawed desperately at the man’s arm.
His vision blurred.
Dark spots filled his sight.
The world began to fade.
Then—
A voice.
Faint.
Distant.
“…let… fight…”
The words echoed weakly in his mind.
Then they grew stronger.
“Let me fight.”
Riven forced out a single desperate word.
“Yes!”
The bandit frowned.
Then pain twisted across his face.
A sudden slash tore across his back.
He released Riven and stumbled forward.
“What the hell—?!”
A glowing figure stood before him.
Its body burned with radiant blue light, its form shifting like living energy.
A sword shimmered in its hand, humming softly.
The bandit snarled.
“Some spirit trick?”
He drew his sword.
“I’ll cut you down too!”
He charged and steel met light with a ringing crack.
The forest exploded into motion as their blades clashed again and again.
The bandit fought wildly, but the spirit moved with calm precision.
Strike after strike forced the man backward.
Blood sprayed across the forest floor.
Panic crept into the bandit’s eyes.
The spirit showed no hesitation.
No fatigue.
Only quiet determination.
Then— A single flash of blue light.
The bandit froze.
His sword slipped from his fingers.
A thin line appeared across his neck.
His head fell to the forest floor.
Silence returned to the woods.
The spirit stood motionless, its soft blue light illuminating the darkness.
Behind it, Riven lay trembling on the ground.
“What… what are you?” he whispered.
The glowing figure knelt before him.
Then a voice echoed gently in Riven’s mind.
“I am a grieving soul… once a soldier who lost his purpose.”
It lowered its head.
“I have wandered long, searching for someone worthy to serve.”
Its voice softened.
“And now I have found you, sire.”
Riven lay frozen on the ground, unable to speak.
His mind raced, trying to understand what had just happened — what this meant.
A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead as he forced himself to stand.
“Can… can you help me?” he asked, his voice shaking..
Riven swallowed.
Having someone who could protect him until he reached the next city would mean survival.
“Okay… I’ll let you follow me,” Riven said cautiously.
“What is your name?”
The figure slowly rose to its feet.
For a moment, the forest remained quiet, the only sound the gentle rustling of leaves in the wind.
Then the figure bowed deeply before him.
“My name is Raku.”
Riven blinked, still trying to steady his breathing.
His eyes were red from crying, and his chest still ached from everything he had endured.
“Raku…” he repeated softly, as if testing the name.
Then he gave a small nod.
“My name is Riven. Nice to meet you.”
He wiped his sleeve across his face, clearing the remaining tears, and forced himself to stand straighter.
“Let’s keep moving.”
And so the two began their journey.
Traveling through the forest was far easier now that Riven was no longer being hunted.
The quiet woods that once felt terrifying slowly became peaceful as the hours passed.
Birds chirped overhead, and the distant sound of flowing water echoed through the trees.
By the next day, the towering walls of a city finally appeared in the distance.
Sabercrest.
Stone towers rose high above the surrounding land, and long banners swayed gently in the wind.
To Riven, who had spent most of his life in the quiet fields of Soulmere, the sight of such a large city felt almost overwhelming.
As they approached the massive gates, Raku’s voice suddenly echoed inside Riven’s mind.
“Sire, I shall conceal myself until you call upon me.”
Riven looked around in confusion.
“What do you—”
Before he could finish, Raku’s form dissolved.
His body collapsed into a sphere of brilliant blue light that floated gently through the air before drifting straight into Riven’s chest.
The light vanished.
Riven froze.
He blinked once.
Then twice.
“Whoa…” he whispered.
“That was cool.”
He placed a hand over his chest, still half-expecting the glowing orb to fly back out again.
But nothing happened.
After a moment, he shook his head and turned toward the city gates.
“Well… now let’s see if I can find some help.”
The streets of Sabercrest were crowded with people.
Merchants shouted from their stalls, travelers moved between buildings, and the smell of fresh bread and roasted meat filled the air.
For most people, the city was alive with opportunity.
For Riven, it felt like walking through a storm of strangers.
He approached anyone who looked kind enough.
“Excuse me… do you know where I could find a place to stay?”
But again and again, he was turned away.
Some people ignored him completely.
Others shut their doors before he could even finish speaking.
A few looked down at him with cold indifference before continuing on their way.
At first, Riven thought maybe he had simply asked the wrong people.
But after hours of searching, the truth slowly settled in.
No one wanted to help him.
The world was not as kind as the small village he had grown up in.
By the time the sun began to sink below the horizon, Riven found himself standing outside the city once again.
Alone.
He stared at the distant gates for a long moment before turning back toward the forest.
“Looks like…” he whispered quietly to himself.
“This will be my home now.”
The words broke something inside him.
Tears slowly rolled down his cheeks.
The weight of everything—the loss, the fear, the loneliness—finally crashed down on him all at once.
The strength he had forced himself to show since the destruction of his home shattered completely.
He wandered deeper into the forest, barely aware of where he was going.
Eventually, hidden among thick trees and tangled roots, he discovered a small cave tucked into the side of a rocky hill.
Inside, the air was cool and quiet.
Riven collapsed against the stone wall, curling into himself as his body trembled.
The grief he had been holding back poured out like a broken dam.
His cries echoed through the empty cave, raw and broken.
For hours he wept.
Until exhaustion finally pulled him into sleep.
That night changed everything.
The happy boy whose smile once brightened even the darkest places disappeared into the silence of the forest.
He would not be seen again.