"History tells us the world doesn't end when the sky falls—it ends when people are forced to choose who to save."
Mr. Havel's words drifted through the classroom, heavy with dust and the scrape of chalk against the board. The students of Greystone Academy barely listened. For most of them, "the First Gates" were just words in a book—something terrifying and distant, like myths carved into stone.
Astra Vale, seated by the window, copied the lesson into her notebook with careful strokes, though she'd heard the lesson a dozen times before. Everyone had. It was impossible to grow up without hearing about the night when reality broke open and monsters crawled through.
Most students didn't pay attention. Some doodled in their books, others whispered. A few stared out the window at the weak spring sunlight spilling over Greystone's rooftops.
Beside her was her brother, Kael Vale, who was among the latter that didn't pay attention to this information.
He leaned back in his chair, brown hair falling into his eyes, his lips tugged into the lazy half-smile he wore whenever he was bored. His mismatched eyes—one clear blue, the other deep amber—weren't on the board at all. They were fixed on the sparrows outside, flitting between the branches of the academy's single old oak tree.
"Kael," Astra hissed under her breath, nudging him with her elbow.
"Hm?" He blinked lazily, mismatched eyes—one blue, one amber—turning to her.
"You're going to fail again."
"I'm conserving energy," he said with a grin. "For when something interesting happens."
"Nothing interesting happens here," Astra muttered, but a tiny part of her wished he was right.
Across the row, a boy turned and snickered. Ezra Thorn, their childhood friend, shot Kael a mock salute. "Careful, Vale. If you fall asleep again, old man Havel will use you as an example for 'those who didn't survive the Gates.'"
Kael smirked. "You know, its better that he chose me as an example than your handwriting."
"Hey!" Ezra looked scandalized, covering his notes with both hands. His messy curls framed a face that always seemed too animated for its own good. Unlike Kael, Ezra studied hard—but only because he dreamed of becoming a Hunter.
Mr. Havel's gaze swept the class and saw the three not paying attention to his class again but he just sighed in annoyance. The old man's brows knit, but he said nothing. Instead, he continued, voice droning:
"And so, the System came. Humanity's savior, and humanity's curse. It gave power only to some. It demanded struggle. And it reminded us of one truth—survival always requires sacrifice."
Astra wrote the words down, just as she always did, even though the weight of them never reached her heart. Because for her and Kael, sacrifice wasn't something they'd ever faced. They were powerless. Systemless. Ordinary.
And that was fine.
Or so she told herself.
---
When the bell rang, chairs scraped and chatter filled the room. Kael stretched and grinned. "Finally. If I had to listen to Havel mumble about the 'First Gates' one more time, I'd rather fight one myself."
"You'd be the first to run," Astra said, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
"I'd run heroically," Kael corrected, earning a laugh from a few boys nearby.
Astra had enough on hearing her stupid brother's word again so she gathered her books neatly; Kael shoved his into his bag without a thought. Ezra caught up with them before they reached the door, juggling his notebooks under one arm.
"Did you hear? Another guild passed through town last week," Ezra said, eyes bright. "They say they closed a C-Rank Gate in under an hour."
"Cool," Kael said flatly, not sounding cool at all.
"Cool until one of them gets eaten," Astra muttered.
Ezra laughed, unbothered. "You two are hopeless. If I awaken, I'm going to be the first Greystone-born Hunter to make it to the capital."
"You're not awakened," Astra reminded him.
"Yet."
Kael clapped Ezra on the back. "Don't worry. When it happens, I'll be your right-hand man. Astra can be the brains."
"I don't want any part of your guild of idiots, if it had a name then it would be something stupid." Astra said dryly.
"Too late. You're already drafted." Kael said with a chuckle, which made Astra more annoyed with her brother.
---
The three of them walked the cobblestone streets together. The market square bustled with vendors shouting, mothers bargaining, and children weaving between stalls. It smelled of bread, spices, and livestock—a tapestry of life that felt eternal, unshakable.
They stopped by the bakery, their grandmother's coin purse light in Astra's hand.
"One loaf only," she warned, handing over the copper.
"Two," Kael said, already reaching.
"Kael—"
"Grandma likes the crust." He winked and slipped Astra the second loaf, as if generosity excused his theft. She sighed but didn't argue.
Ezra laughed, shaking his head. "If you two ever starve, it'll be because you argued over bread instead of eating it."
By the time the sun began to dip, painting the sky in gold, the three parted ways—Ezra heading toward the south end of town, the Vale siblings climbing the hill to the small cottage where their grandmother waited.
While on their way back to their grandmother, Astra glanced at her brother as they walked. He was all restless energy, tossing a pebble into the air as they cut across the cobbled plaza. "Don't tell me you still dream about it," she said quietly.
"About what?" Kael tossed the stone higher, caught it with a grin.
"Awakening. Getting a System. Joining some guild."
Kael shrugged. "Doesn't everyone? I already made a plan with Ezra."
"We're not like everyone." Astra's voice sharpened. "We don't have it. We never will."
For a moment, Kael was quiet. Then his grin returned, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Maybe. But you never know. Maybe fate's saving us for something big."
Astra rolled her eyes. Fate. She didn't believe in it.
---
The cottage door creaked open to the warmth of firelight. Their grandmother, Elara Vale, stood at the hearth, silver hair tied back, a wooden spoon in her hand. The smell of stew filled the room.
"You're late," she said without looking.
"Blame Kael," Astra muttered, setting the bread down.
"Blame Ezra," Kael countered with a grin. "He won't shut up about Hunters again."
Their grandmother's spoon paused. She looked at them, something unreadable flickering in her eyes. Then she smiled, soft and tired. "Don't worry about Gates. Worry about tomorrow's lessons. Live quietly."
It was the same advice she always gave.
Elara finally turned, sharp eyes softening at the sight of them. "Ezra dreams too much. You two should dream less."
Kael plopped into a chair. "So you're saying we should be boring?"
"I'm saying," she stirred the pot, "that quiet lives last longer than loud ones."
Astra frowned. "But… isn't it thanks to Hunters that towns like ours are safe?"
"Safe," Elara repeated, tasting the word like something bitter. "No one is ever truly safe. You just… survive longer."
The room fell quiet for a moment. Astra studied her grandmother, sensing the weight in her voice. Sometimes it felt like Elara knew too much about the world, like she'd seen things even the textbooks didn't write.
Then Elara smiled faintly and broke the silence. "Now, enough gloom. Wash your hands, both of you. And Kael—don't steal bread before supper."
Kael raised his hands innocently. "Would I ever?"
"Yes." Elara gave him a look so sharp even he laughed sheepishly.
They ate together, the kind of meal so ordinary it became precious. The crackle of the fire, Kael's endless jokes, Astra correcting him, and Elara listening with a patience that wrapped around them like a blanket.
After dinner, Elara brought out a box of old photographs. She only did that once in a while. Tonight, her hands lingered over a picture of a young couple—the siblings' parents.
Astra leaned closer. "That's her, right? Mom?"
Elara's lips curved, though her eyes glistened. "Yes. Beautiful, wasn't she? Brave. Too brave, sometimes."
Kael tilted his head. "And Dad?"
Elara hesitated. For a heartbeat, she looked… tired. Older than her years. But she quickly forced a smile. "Your father… he was clever. Too clever. Always chasing answers no one should have."
The twins exchanged a glance, but before either could ask more, Elara shut the box.
"Enough for tonight. Go on, do your reading."
Kael groaned. "Homework's a curse."
Elara ruffled his hair. "Worse curses exist. Don't tempt them."
Her words carried a strange weight—too heavy for a casual joke. Astra caught it, but Kael didn't.
Later, after the house quieted, the twins sat by the window in their shared room. The night air was cool, carrying the scent of pine.
"Do you think Grandma hides things from us?" Astra asked suddenly.
Kael blinked. "Like what?"
"Like… about Mom and Dad. About the world."
Kael leaned back, eyes on the stars. For once, he wasn't grinning. "Yeah. Probably. Everyone hides something."
They sat in silence. The stars glittered above, cold and eternal. Kael broke the silent this time as he looked at the cold and dark night outside the window.
"Do you ever feel like… this isn't it?" he asked softly.
"What isn't?" Astra whispered.
"Life. Greystone. Just being… normal." His voice carried a restless edge. "It feels like we're waiting for something."
Astra looked at him. For once, his grin was gone, replaced by something uncertain, almost fragile.
She didn't answer. Because sometimes, she felt it too.
The world was quiet. Peaceful.
And fragile.
Fragile enough to break.