Early one morning, Aether awoke to the sound of light, measured strikes echoing through the garden.
He turned toward the window.
There stood his father, Mark, practicing with a wooden sword.
Every movement was calculated.
Every strike was precise.
His eyes remained focused and attentive.
Aether watched in admiration before rushing toward his father.
Mark: "Good morning, Aether. Did you sleep well?"
Aether (smiling faintly): "Yes, Dad..."
Mark gave him a calm smile.
Mark: "Good. Would you like to join me for some morning training?"
Aether's excitement grew.
Aether: "Yes! I want to!"
Mark chuckled softly and pointed toward the wall.
Mark: "There's a small wooden sword up there. Go get it."
Aether hurried over and grabbed the sword.
He stood before his father despite his small size and limited strength.
Mark began teaching him the fundamentals of combat:
How to hold a sword.
How to position his feet.
How to defend himself.
And how to move smoothly.
Aether's first strikes were hesitant and slow.
Sweat glistened on his forehead.
His breathing grew heavier.
But he didn't stop.
Mark corrected every movement, encouraged him with warm words, and demonstrated the proper techniques himself.
Hours passed.
The sun gradually began to set.
Aether eventually collapsed onto the ground, completely exhausted...
But happy.
Kartithia ran toward him carrying a pitcher of water and two wooden cups.
Her childish smile filled the garden with warmth.
Kartithia: "You did great, Aether! You were amazing!"
Mark smiled proudly.
Mark: "Yes. Well done. Keep going like this, and you'll become the greatest knight in this world."
Aether raised his head.
His eyes shimmered with excitement.
Aether: "I want to create fire like you, Dad... and protect the things I love."
Mark placed a hand on his son's shoulder.
Mark: "My fire runs through your blood, son. It will appear when you're ready."
He looked toward the setting sun.
Mark: "And the days ahead will test you more than you can imagine."
The Ruins of Canria
On the outskirts of the destroyed Canria, the soldiers had established their camp among the ruins of the village that once stood there.
Sirvan stood before a large map.
Beside him were Eyria and Zeylan.
All three stared toward the devastation in the distance.
The wind whispered through the rubble.
Smoke rose from the remains of the destroyed houses.
The soldiers moved in silence.
Every step was calculated.
Every movement carried tension.
Sirvan's fingers stopped over a patch of ash.
His voice was quiet.
Sirvan: "This was once one of the most beautiful places..."
His eyes remained fixed on the ruins.
"Now, it's nothing but destruction... unfit for life."
Suddenly...
Sirvan felt something strange.
A sensation he couldn't explain.
As though an unseen flame was waiting to erupt somewhere far away...
Inside the heart of someone who was still learning how to control it.