Being treated like outcasts all their lives, living had been very hard. They barely had food to eat, let alone clothes to wear.
The roof they had over their heads was single handedly made by their father out of wood and thatch.
At only eight years old the twins would go to homes and stores seeking chores they could do to earn money. Most times they would be sent away, being called bad luck and curses.
When accepted, they would work for hours doing chores for people around the village, cleaning their shops and whatnot.
When it came to pay, they would either be told to come back the next day which when they did, they only got some silly excuse. Or they would be rewarded a single bronze coin. The most they ever got was two bronze coins and that happened only once.
The people would always find faults in what they did just so they wouldn't have to pay them. They were constantly bullied by the children in the neighborhood. Always getting what they worked for stolen, they decided to steal themselves.
Aspiring to become wizards, like their father was, they focused on their mana training and learning spells. Though weak, they were able to change their appearances so they wouldn't be recognized.
It would only make matters worse if they were to be found out. Healing and illusion was something else they learnt. Still, they were only at the basic level. They could only transfer pain from one to another.
For defense, they learnt to condense environmental aura and energy from within into a solid form, called energy ball, or blast if the attack was on a wider range. Still, it wasn't strong enough. They couldn't even produce it multiple times, their bodies were not strong enough.
"We're still weak!" They would always complain after getting beaten by the other kids in the village.
What they didn't know is they were achieving amazing feats. It was rare for one to be able to learn different abilities at once, especially at their age. They were fast learners, what they needed most was control.
Agnar, their father, who was also their teacher, focused their lessons on control. Though they haven't been able to cast spells and make potions, they focused more on bringing magic from within.
Agnar one day stopped casting spells and slowly avoided magic. He began training their bodies and fighting skills. He gave them no reason as to why, only stating it was for the best. Time to time, he would give in to their wishes, but it was not as often as he used to.
Magic was common. A lot of children wished to indulge in it. There were even schools set up for it. Though not in every kingdom. Mulgard was one of the few to have an academy for magic.
In the village, there were men who would teach children the basics of magic casting. Coming from a very poor family, the twins decided to steal so they could afford the lessons.
That was when they met Maxwell. He was a witness to their crime.
He paid for a month of the lesson and invited them to work for him, if not the village would know of what they had been doing which would only make matters worse for them. They had no choice but to accept his offer.
He acknowledged their strong affinity for magic and he began exploiting them. In his way of 'helping' them, he would ask them to steal for him.
He had them target people that he knew personally. Although the twins wondered why, they didn't care. Only the money mattered to them. Even that would be cheated from them.
Their father found out and was beyond furious. They promised to stop even though they barely had a choice to.
Agnar himself met with Maxwell. No audible conversation was held, but Maxwell fled and said he would never bother the twins again.
The sight of their father alone made him cower in fear. When Agnar fell ill, they felt they had no other choice and begged Maxwell to let them work for him again.
Hearing their words, it was clear his sons were not happy with their current situation. Well, who could blame them.
'If only things were different.' Agnar thought.
"Did we ever do anything wrong by being alive? Why do they hate us so much? We are people just like them! Why do they keep treating us this way?" Kiyan sniffled. Tears began to blur his vision.
"It's my fault, all my fault." Agnar mumbled, but his sons heard him clearly. "If I had never done what I did, you wouldn't have to steal to feed."
"Your fault?" Kiyan asked, confused. "What could you have possibly done that would cause vexation on us like this?"
Agnar said nothing and just kept staring. 'Do I even know what I did? Did I really do anything bad?' He questioned himself inwardly. His recurring migraines hit and he placed his hand on his forehead.
"Father?" Kiyan called out.
"What did you mean by your earlier statement?" Raten asked eager to hear his reply, to know the reason things are the way they were.
"Let's just say I made a mistake that affected the entire kingdom and beyond." He answered after a brief silence.
"A mistake?"
"Yes, a mistake. That took a good number of men to fix, myself included." He gave a small smile.
"What kind of mistake was that exactly?"
"A big one." He replied.
He kept giving vague responses. They decided not to push it and just sat there. Whatever it was that happened seemed to be big, they could tell by the look on his face. After a while, he spoke.
"You must be hungry. I prepared something for us three."
The expressions of his sons immediately changed. They were extremely hungry but their father's cooking easily made them lose their appetite.
Agnar was not the best at cooking. Simply put, he was very bad at it. He only ever did good with meat which they rarely get.
Although bland, food prepared by Agnar's hands were all they had to eat, unless they cooked for themselves. There was not much difference either way.
Turning to the east side of the room, the twins noticed three plates, well covered, on the makeshift table. Their father stood up and they followed.
No words were exchanged as they sat to feed. The boys began eating slowly while Agnar didn't even touch his plate. It seemed the earlier conversation was bothering him. The twins couldn't help but wonder what 'mistake' their father had made back then.
He also said he helped fix it, so why is everyone still treating them this bad? Also if there was something he did, people would speak about it. But, no one has ever said a word about their father doing something bad.
Just how long ago did that happen? They wondered. The kingdom wouldn't just be quiet about something that affected it, would it? If it was as serious as their father claimed, there should be some gossip at least.
After dinner, they had all gone to bed. Kiyan and Raten usually shared a small bed which was just hay covered with a sheet. While their father would sleep on the cold hard floor. Agnar stood by the door watching his sons who were now fast asleep.
How badly he wished their mother were there to see how grown their sons had become. A happy family is all he always wanted, he wondered if it would only remain a dream.
Every night they returned with bruises and this night was no different. Looking at Kiyan, he could see fresh scars on his body.
"Putting yourselves in harm's way for your old man." He chuckled bitterly. "I'm deeply sorry that I can't do better." He sighed and sat on the floor, with his back resting on the wall.
Seeing them rested made him reminisce about his younger self. A smile formed on his lips. He waved his hand, and the lit candles in the room went off. After a battle of thoughts in his head, Agnar fell into slumber.
*******
The rays of the morning sun peeked through the curtains of their room as it rose in the sky proclaiming a new day had come.
Kiyan and Raten had risen from sleep and began doing some chores. Raten cleaned as Kiyan swept. After which they had their baths. Having nothing at home to eat, they thought of getting something from the market.
Before leaving, Raten went to Agnar to tell him they were stepping out. Though the brothers found it odd that he was still asleep, he was one to be up as soon as the sun rises, they didn't think much of it. He must have been tired.
"Father..." Raten called out. "Father, father?" He shook his father lightly. Still, there was no reaction.
"Father, come on, wake up!" He said pushing him harder this time. Looking closer at his face, Raten could see how pale his father looked. He was barely breathing.
"F-father?" He shook, afraid of what was happening. "Kiyan! KIYAN!!" He called for his brother.
Kiyan who had been by the doorsteps waiting for Raten to inform their father of their stepping out was growing tired and bored.
"What's taking Raten so long?" Kiyan wondered. He sat on the floor, watching as the people moved by. Most times, it felt like their home was non-existent in the village. Unless they did something that attracted attention, no one even looked their way. They were completely avoided.
"Kiyan!!" He heard his brother's voice. "Kiyan! Something's wrong with father!"
Hearing these words Kiyan bolted into the house with worry.
"What's going on?" He asked as he got to the room. His heart raced as he saw his brother holding onto Agnar who still laid on the floor.
"He's not responding. He's not, he's not waking up." Raten said. Tears that stung his eyes, threatened to fall.
Trying to compose himself Kiyan slowly walked closer to his brother hoping he had misheard.
"It can't be, it can't be." He kept telling himself. "He can't be, he can't be dying."
"We need to do something. We need to save him!" Raten said, snapping Kiyan out of a trance.
He had been silently watching his father struggle to breathe, he felt his head spin.
"Are we going to lose him too?" Raten looked up at Kiyan.
"No, we won't. He can't leave us, not now!" Pulling himself together, Kiyan said.
"Healer. We need to take him to the healer now!"