"Mmm-hmm-hmm," Nero's voice carried the faint tune of a lullaby, barely louder than a whisper as he slowly walked behind a tall figure.
Looking around, all Nero could see were a dense forest. It was a strange feeling being this deep into the forest he was warned about.
"Hey dad, where are we going?" Nero asked in confusion as he followed that tall figure.
'Sigh, I want to play with Christine.' He thought as his legs slowly started to ache from all the walking he had done. Seeing that there was no response, he decided to ask again.
"Daaaad, where are we go- oof" He bumped into his father who had suddenly stopped walking.
"Why did we stop?" Nero asked in confusion as he looked around. All of a sudden fog started to appear from nowhere slowly encircling the two.
"Uh dad?" Nero started to get worried as sweat started to form above his eyebrows.
The forest around Nero seemed to grow unnervingly silent, save for the low, eerie hum of the wind. His heart raced, and his breath quickened as the fog thickened, swallowing the space between him and his father. His legs felt as though they were rooted to the ground, but his instinct screamed at him to run.
"Dad... what's happening to you?" Nero's voice trembled, barely above a whisper as his father's hollow, unsettling gaze pierced through him.
The man, once strong and warm, now looked like something far less human—skin stretched thin over bones, his lips cracked in a twisted mockery of a smile.
"S-O-N," his father rasped again, the words dragging on painfully, "L-I-V-E... Y-O-U... M-U-S-T..."
The fog seemed to swirl around them, the trees no longer offering any comfort. The air grew heavier, suffocating, as if the forest itself was holding its breath. Nero's small hands trembled, his grip on the twigs he had gathered loosening.
"Dad... please..." Nero's voice broke as he reached out, his heart pounding in his chest.
"R-U-N," the voice from his father came, distorted, like an ancient warning.
But before he could respond, the ground beneath Nero began to tremble, and the once familiar forest seemed to warp. Shadows began to writhe in the fog, and Nero's father seemed to fade in and out of reality, like a broken image, his figure becoming more distorted with each passing second.
"DAD!" Nero screamed, his legs finally responding to the primal fear surging through him. He turned and bolted into the thick fog, blindly running, his father's haunting voice echoing in the distance behind him.
The fog closed in around him, and all Nero could hear was the erratic beating of his own heart and the oppressive silence of the forest. The shadows seemed to follow him, pressing in from every side, as if the trees themselves were alive—watching, waiting.
Then, as he stumbled through the dense mist, the ground beneath him gave way, and he fell.
Nero's eyes shot open. Sweat coated his skin, his heart still racing as the remnants of the nightmare clung to his mind. He was back in the orphanage, the familiar warmth of his 'brothers' helped him anchor to realty.
"Just a dream… just a dream…" he whispered, trying to calm himself. But even in the light of day, the feeling of dread, the memory of that terrifying moment, still lingered deep within him.
"BANG! BANG! BANG!"
"RISE AND SHINE, BOYS!"
The sharp clanging of metal on metal reverberated through the dormitory, startling the children awake. A middle-aged woman stomped into the room, wielding a pot and a wooden spoon like a war drum, her voice carrying all the authority of a battle commander.
"C'MON NOW! WE DON'T HAVE ALL DAY!" Sister Mary barked, punctuating her words with another deafening strike of her spoon against the pot.
Groans of protest filled the air as the boys around Nero began to stir reluctantly from their thin mattresses, rubbing their eyes and mumbling half-asleep complaints.
"Yaaawn… Just gimme one minute, Sister Mary. Just… one… min—" Fin's voice trailed off as his head flopped back onto the pillow.
"Oh no, you don't!" Sister Mary snapped, marching straight to Fin's bed. With practiced precision, she yanked the blanket off him, eliciting a startled yell. "You'll get up right this instant, Fin! Breakfast doesn't cook itself, and your sisters could use the extra hands."
Grumbling and shuffling their feet, the boys—Fin, Will, Charlie, and Nero—were herded into the kitchen. The scent of warm oats filled the small, worn-down room, though it was faint, promising nothing but the usual watery porridge.
At the far end of the room, Elli, an 8-year-old girl with neatly tied brown hair and eager eyes, was carefully setting out the chipped wooden bowls around the table. Beside her, her older sister Maggie, 15 years old and slightly taller, stirred the steaming cauldron with quiet focus. Maggie's light brown hair fell loosely over her shoulders, and her striking green eyes looked soft in the morning light filtering through the window.
"Hi, guys!" Elli greeted brightly as the boys trudged in. "Breakfast will be ready any minute now!"
Sister Anne appeared in the doorway with her usual warm smile, clasping her hands together as she said, "Alright, everyone, go sit down."
The boys shuffled over to the long, scarred wooden table, their movements sluggish and grumpy. Nero, trailing behind the group, glanced toward Maggie as she carefully ladled out the porridge. For a split second, her eyes met his. She gave him a soft smile—just a small, fleeting thing—but it was enough to send warmth shooting straight up to his cheeks.
Caught staring, Nero's face flushed bright red, and he quickly turned his gaze to the floor, his heart thudding embarrassingly loud in his chest.
Charlie, sitting beside him, leaned in with a sly grin. "What're you all red for, Nero?" he whispered teasingly.
"Sh-shut up, Charlie," Nero muttered, shoving him lightly and focusing hard on the uneven surface of the table in front of him.
Across the room, Sister Mary's spoon banged against the cauldron, snapping everyone's attention back. "Stop your whispering and sit up straight, boys. Maggie worked hard on this breakfast, so you'll eat it without a word of complaint!"
The room fell quiet except for the sounds of porridge slopping into bowls, the bubbling of the cauldron, and the faint giggles of Elli as she handed out spoons.
As they ate, Nero did his best to ignore Charlie's earlier comment. He couldn't bring himself to glance in Maggie's direction, so he focused on the trio sitting across from him instead: Fin, Will, and Charlie.
Fin, the oldest at 15, was the self-proclaimed leader of the orphans—though the title didn't carry much weight among the others. With a mop of unruly hair and an endless supply of confidence, he often declared himself the "man of the orphanage." His deputies were Will and Charlie. Will, at 13, was the quieter one of the three, rarely speaking unless he had something meaningful to say. Charlie, meanwhile, was the comedian of the group. At 14-and-a-half, he was a constant source of cheeky grins and ill-timed jokes.
As Nero thought about this, he caught Charlie glancing his way. Charlie smirked and flashed his infamous, mischievous grin—the kind that screamed "I know something you don't." Nero immediately dropped his gaze back into his bowl of porridge, cheeks heating up again.
The room was mostly quiet save for the scraping of spoons on wood, the occasional slurp, and a distant sigh or two. That peace, however, was short-lived.
Sister Mary clanged her spoon against the side of the cauldron to get their attention. "Now listen here, boys and girls. As you all know, it's Sunday today, and that means you'll all be attending the teachings."
A chorus of groans erupted from around the table.
"Aw, c'mon!"
"Not again!"
"I hate that stuff," muttered Charlie with a mouth full of porridge.
Fin, as always, took it upon himself to voice the rebellion. "Sister Mary, why do we have to learn how to read books and all that boring stuff? I'd rather learn how to wield a sword!" His hazel eyes lit up with excitement, as if picturing himself as a knight already. "Swords are way cooler than books!"
"Yeah!"
"Books stink!" Charlie and Will quickly chimed in, backing up their leader.
Sister Mary shot them all a stern look, her spoon raised as a warning. "Shush now. I won't hear another word of it."
For a moment, the room fell quiet again, save for the occasional clatter of spoons against bowls. Then Sister Anne, who had been quietly sipping her breakfast at the end of the table, finally spoke up. Her tone was softer, but no less firm. "Sister Mary is right. Reading and writing are important for each and every one of you." Her gaze swept across the table before landing briefly on Nero. Memories of her conversation with Father Elias the night before flickered through her mind.
"You think you'll stay stuck in this village forever? You're all destined for something greater—every single one of you," she said with conviction, her voice rising slightly.
Fin scoffed and crossed his arms. "But Sister Anne, I'm gonna be an adventurer!" His earlier grumbling gave way to enthusiasm, his voice full of excitement. "I'll travel across the kingdom, see the world, fight monsters, and do whatever I want—whenever I want!"
Charlie nodded eagerly beside him, nearly spilling his porridge. "Yeah! I'll be your partner, Fin. We'll go on quests and find treasure!"
Will, as usual, stayed silent, but there was a faint flicker of interest in his eyes at the idea of adventure.
Sister Mary rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath about "boys and their nonsense." But Sister Anne just smiled faintly, though her eyes seemed far away. "Well, you'll need to know how to read those treasure maps first," she replied, trying to hide her amusement.
Nero, listening quietly, couldn't help but smile at that. For all the groaning and complaints, there was something about the mornings here—this noisy, chaotic family—that made him feel like maybe Sister Anne was right.
Maybe he was destined for something greater than a curse.