Fifty-six years hence, in a bygone era, a young boy whose visage was a complexion to that of one harshly kissed by the sun, possessing a hue darker than bronzed gold. His cascading ringlets, a cascade of blonde curls, danced and coiled with a life of their own, framing his youthful countenance. His irises were a hues of black, and arrayed upon his lithe frame, a long coat of ebony, carefully tailored from the humblest of Entaga's silk, draped itself somewhat untidily.
Contrary to customary fashion, the boy foregone the conventional garment of a shirt beneath his ebony mantle, thus allowing the world a glimpse of his tender, scrawny upper body. Meanwhile, his lower attire comprised pants of a hue akin to the very sunsets that graced the western horizons, a shade of profound saffron, he was known as Betrug Greyhorn.
The streets, more inactive in regards to citizens roaming around going about their day as almost nobody is outside, it held the promise of a city on the brink of growth. He noticed the cobblestone pathways, worn smooth with age, bearing the marks of countless footsteps that had trodden upon them over the years. The buildings, standing tall but not yet reaching their full potential.
He didn't really want to be outside though but he had accidentally locked himself outside the house "It's not here..." He was trying to recover his toy that had fallen out the window and most likely been carried away by the wind as he didn't see it, and the realization made him clench his blood boil. Thoughts darted through his mind like agile fireflies, flickering with uncertainty and also frustration.
"Mom, Dad, are you awake?" Betrug called out with a voice that carried both curiosity and a hint of apprehension. The echoes of his voice reverberated through the high ceilings of their home, a harmonious yet lonesome melody in the stillness of the morning.
Would his parents be upset? Or would they simply laugh it off, dismissing it as one of his boyish escapades? Betrug found himself hoping for the latter, though the thought of reprimand lingered like a shadow in the corner of his consciousness.
To try and distract himself from these tangled thoughts, his eyes remained attentive to every nuance in the vicinity. The ornate carvings on neighboring houses, the delicate flowers that managed to bloom created a vivid tableau in his mind.
Minutes stretched into what felt like an eternity until finally, a flicker of movement caught his eye. The polished wooden door of his family home creaked open, as the door widened, Betrug's heart soared with a mixture of relief and anticipation. He longed to step back into his home as his parents told him outdoors can be dangerous.
The door fully opened revealing the figures of Nanga and Danara Greyhorn, his parents. Nanga, with her warm smile and eyes that showed signs of fatigue that come with age, and Danara, whose countenance was stern.
Danara's hair, a lustrous waterfall of chestnut brown, cascaded down her shoulders in gentle waves. A few streaks of silver had begun to weave their way through her tresses, marking the passage of time like threads of wisdom. Her eyes, the color of deep emeralds and her skin was of a dark hue. She wore a traditional Entagan night blouse in a soft ivory hue. Her skirt, crafted from a sturdy yet supple fabric, fell to her ankles, allowing for ease of movement without compromising her poise.
Nanga, his beard hair was a silver hue along with the hair on his head, His eyes, a shade of black like outer space, his skin was fair unlike Danara's. He wore a loose-fitting, soft cotton shirt in a shade of midnight grey. The sleeves were rolled up slightly, exposing his small forearms. For his lower half, Nanga donned a pair of cotton pants, dyed in a gentle olive green. The pants were loose, allowing for unrestricted movement as he moved. Lastly he wore a pair of hand-knit socks in a mix of earthy colors.
"What happened?" Danara's voice cut through the air, carrying a sense of authority that momentarily intimidated Betrug.
As the door widened, Betrug's heart trembled, entwined with both relief and trepidation, yearning to know what his parents' reaction would be but being scared of the outcome from telling them. Attempting to sound composed, Betrug responded, "I, uh, lost the toy you had gotten me because it fell out the window but I didn't see it once I got out here and accidentally locked myself out." His voice betrayed a tinge of anxiety he was desperately trying to hide how uncomfortable it made him feel inside.
"What happened?" Danara's voice cut through the air, carrying a sense of authority that momentarily intimidated Betrug.
Nanga put his hand on Danara's shoulder. "I think I'll handle this. You don't mean to scare him, but you're like a malfunctioning personality matrix older than the spirals of the Crystal Archways of Lushosia."
"I see what you're getting at, so I guess I'll leave you two to talk." Danara walked left to ascend the staircase which is near the door.
"You're like a gravity-challenged boulder in the street of Levinton you know that!" Nanga had shouted at Betrug who stands up straight scared. "Woah I've never heard him yell like that before."
"Just kidding, by the way, do you notice how bright this morning is my son?" Nanga gazed upward at the celestial expanse "Uh, dad, it's not morning. When I saw the clock it was 4 pm."
"Woah, you're kidding, did we sleep that long?! It's a good thing you did wake us up then."
Nanga chuckled, thankful for Betrug's open demeanor. "I have a question for you, what is it that provokes such fear within you when it comes to your mother?
"Well, sometimes she gives me that look, you know? The one that feels like she can see right through me, and I feel like I'm gonna get busted for whatever I did, even if I didn't do anything bad on purpose! And then she might start talking all serious and stuff, and I'm like, 'Uh oh, what did I do now?!' It's like she's a detective or something and it's super scary!"
Nanga chuckled heartily, finding his son's candid portrayal both endearing and amusing. "Ah, the maternal death glare, yeah, she does that a lot, doesn't she? Honestly, that's how I like my women."
"I mean she's not a bad person, but why do you like women who give a look like that?" Betrug tilted his head.
"Well, it just gives me the impression they'll be a serious parent who cares about her child, although I understand if she comes off a bit intimidating, since she's always concerned for your safety, you might understand when you have a family of your own one day. But long story short, it's just her way of expressing that even if nobody did anything wrong, whatever happens in the lives of people who are important to her is something she likes to take very seriously."
"I'm only ten. I don't need to think about having a family at the moment, but how do you know that's what she thinks, what if that's just how her face naturally is or something else you haven't thought of?"
"Because me and her have seen each other at our worst and at our best, I can't say I know how she thinks about a topic to every detail, but I'm confident in saying this is how she shows concern, especially because she even gives me that same look from time to time."
"What, really?"
"Yep, I'm as serious as the glitched subroutine near the ford of Urumuri. Now then, let's go back inside."
They entered the house, Betrug felt a mixture of relief and warmth at being welcomed back into the comfort of home. The sunlight streamed through the lacy curtains, casting intricate patterns on the floor. A few paintings hung on the walls.
"I've always liked the one with the waterfall best. It feels like you could jump right in and get soaked, and just the way water looks is amazing to me." Betrug pointed to a painting that depicted a majestic cascade surrounded by thriving forests.
Nanga smiled warmly. "That's from our trip to Lushosia. You were just a baby then. We had a great time splashing around in those waters. Maybe we should plan another trip like that someday."
Betrug's eyes lit up at the prospect of this chance. "Yes, please! I wasn't old enough to even remember most of the trips we had."
"That's a good point, and we didn't go on many trips, because we wanted to focus on your studies, and since your school is on break, it's the perfect time."
In the realm of splendor and majesty, there Danara found herself, perched like an eagle atop a grandiose stairway that seemed to stretch towards the very heavens themselves. Her eyes, keen and observant, were affixed on the figures of Betrug and his father, Nanga, engaged in an animated discourse that reverberated through the air like the harmonious notes of a celestial symphony. Their voices, infused with a sense of urgency and excitement, were discussing the prospect of an imminent voyage to the paradisiacal shores of Lushosia..
From her elevated vantage point, a faint mist of envy gently swirled within Danara's heart, for she could not help but perceive Nanga's fatherly proximity to Betrug, a closeness that appeared to transcend her own connection with the boy. Yet, even amid this envious gust, a delicate and exquisite flower of happiness unfurled within her soul for Nanga, who had proven himself to be a steadfast pillar of support for the young Betrug. In his nurturing presence, the boy had found the resolute parent figure she felt he deserved, and this realization blossomed within her heart like a rare and captivating bloom.
Within the maze of memories, the reflection of a distant past arose like the mellifluous symphony of the ocean's waves upon the shore. Betrug, in a moment of poignant nostalgia, allowed his mind to traverse the annals of time, where he, too, had once been but a vulnerable sapling, buffeted by life's tempestuous winds. In those long-forgotten days of childhood innocence, he had been guileless, easily spooked, and defenseless, much like the innocent child who stood beside him now. Yet, fate had woven a tapestry of transformation, bestowing upon him the mantle of maturity and wisdom, a sacred inheritance from his parents, for whom he now held a silent and profound gratitude. This mantle empowered him to assume a countenance of solemn gravity, enabling him to face the challenges of existence with an unwavering courage and strength of spirit.
As the symphony of recollections reached its resplendent crescendo, the present moment within the echo caverns unveiled itself in all its splendor. The space they occupied, though relatively meager, echoed with whispers from ages past, ancient tongues that had once shaped the very fabric of his existence. Faint footfalls resonated in the depths, a haunting cadence growing ever nearer, blending harmoniously with the whispers of time, like an intricately orchestrated dance between the past and the present.
"I recall those days fondly," Betrug spoke softly, his voice reverberating like an incantation from ages gone by. "Days when innocence was my faithful companion, much like this child who stands near me now, his face etched with the visible tracings of fear. In this hallowed place, I feel like I need to be the mantle of guardian, guide, and protector for him."
In the enigmatic half-light that bathed them, a shadow emerged through the cavern passage, looming like a specter of uncertainty, enshrouding Betrug and the boy. His determination manifested like a tapestry woven with the intricate threads of resolve and valor, a testament to the strength that lay within him. "Whoever you may be," he proclaimed with unshakable courage, "I will not allow you to bring harm to this child!"
However, as the figure emerged from the shadow's enigmatic shroud, Betrug's countenance underwent a transformation, his resolute expression giving way to incredulity. "Eh?" he was in disbelief. For the entity that had stirred the boy's concern, the one he had sought to shield the child from, revealed herself to be none other than a mere child as well, a little girl, but appearances can be deceiving. Is this girl to be trusted or was the boy right to be scared and suspicious?