{two years later.}
The morning sun filtered through the thick canopy of trees, casting light across the forest. Birds moved from branch to branch, their cheerful sounds mixing with the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze. Wildflowers dotted the bushes, splashes of color among the greens and browns, while a narrow path wound its way through the natural forest-like landscape.
Suddenly, a sharp sound cut through the tranquil atmosphere
"swish!"
It resonated like a clarion call, echoing off the trees and drawing attention from all around. A silver-haired man stood beside a two-storied house, his sword gleaming in the sunlight as he swung it with practiced grace. Each stroke was a blend of strength and elegance, spreading throughout the beauty of the natural world surrounding him.
Atlus moved with fluid precision, every motion intentional as he carved the air with his blade. The rhythm of his practice was mesmerizing; each strike resonated like a heartbeat in the stillness of the forest. It was more than just training; it was a dance, a powerful expression of mastery that seemed to blend seamlessly with the serene environment.
behind a sturdy oak tree, one dark-haired child watched in awe. Crius's heart raced as he absorbed the sight of his father, the man who had taken him in and raised him as his own. The beauty of the swordplay ignited a longing within him, a desire to learn the art unfolded before his eyes.
Atlus, sensing a presence, turned and caught sight of Crius peeking out from the bushes. With a mix of excitement and nervousness, Crius jogged toward him enthusiastically.
"Father!"
"That was amazing, can you teach me? Please, I want to learn how to move like that too!"
he exclaimed, his voice barely containing his awe.
Atlus stared at him thoughtfully, a warm smile playing at the corners of his mouth. But then he shook his head, his expression turning serious.
"You're still too young, Crius. When you grow up, I will teach you. But for now, you should focus on your studies and writing."
Crius's enthusiasm didn't fade, even as Atlus's words sank in. Instead, he clenched his fists, his youthful resolve unwavering.
"But Father," Crius persisted, "if I start now, even with something small, I could practice! I'll work hard, I'll listen to everything you say!"
Atlus raised a hand, silencing the boy gently but firmly. "Crius, listen. Swordplay is not a game, nor is it a skill to be learned in haste. It carries with it a responsibility one that requires more than strength or eagerness. It demands patience and understanding, things you'll grow into."
Crius's gaze fell to the ground, but he nodded reluctant
"I understand…"
Seeing the boy's disappointment, Atlus's features softened. He crouched, and patted Crius's hair with care as he said.
"But I admire your spirit, son. So when the time comes, make sure you'll be ready. Until then, promise me you'll keep that fire alive by learning and growing. Do we have a deal?"
Crius's expression brightened just slightly at his father's words, and he extended his pinky slightly.
"...alright"
Atlus chuckled, hooking his pinky with Crius's.
As Crius then turned to leave and return to his house, he casted one last hopeful glance at the sword in Atlus's hand, the way the fading sunlight reflected off its polished blade.
he wondered to himself.
"Would I... be able to hold a sword like that too one day?"
*******
Crius wandered through the long, quiet halls of his home with a bored expression, his small feet making soft tapping sounds on the wooden floor. The house felt unusually still, with his parents busy elsewhere and the day stretching endlessly before him.
His hands brushed against the walls as he walked, his mind drifting. He didn't feel like playing, and the lessons his parents arranged for him had grown too simple, too repetitive. They didn't know that he could already read and write, something he had quietly taught himself in secret. The letters and symbols in their books seemed alive to him, opening doors to ideas and stories that filled his imagination.
But even reading had become predictable.
He wanted something new.
Something exciting.
With a sigh, Crius climbed the creaking stairs leading to the attic. The stairs were his secret path, rarely used by anyone else in the house. When he reached the top, the door creaked open, and the soft, filtered light of the attic greeted him. It was a place that felt untouched, its corners filled with dust and forgotten objects.
Crius wandered slowly through the attic, his fingers tracing the dust-coated edges of everything he passed. Shelves sagged under the weight of old books, their spines cracked and faded with age. He brushed his hand across a particularly thick tome, leaving a streak in the dust, but didn't bother opening it. He already knew most of the stories inside.
Accounts of distant lands, heroic knights, and ancient spells that once fascinated him but now felt familiar.
On a nearby table, a collection of framed pictures rested on top of each other. Crius paused, picking up one of the smaller frames. The glass was slightly cracked, and he had to tilt it against the light to see clearly. The image inside showed his parents, younger and laughing, standing in front of a castle he didn't recognize. He stared at it for some time before placing it back carefully.
Further along, a cluster of necklaces hung from an old wooden rack, their pendants catching the faint light filtering through the dusty window. One in particular stood out, a silver chain with a small, star-shaped charm. Crius let it dangle from his finger for a moment before setting it back gently.
In the corner, leaning against the wall, were two rusted swords crossed over each other. They seemed heavy, their blades dulled and long past their prime. Crius crouched to inspect them, running a finger along one of the hilts. Though he had seen them before, they still held a certain mystique. He imagined what it might feel like to wield them, to swing them in the same fluid motions he'd seen his father practice.
But even with all these relics of the past, the rooftop still felt stagnant, as though it held no more secrets for him to uncover. He sighed and turned away, until something tucked deep in the shadows caught his eye.
a shape tucked into the farthest corner, partially concealed beneath an old looking cloth.
"What's that?" Crius murmured; his curiosity instantly piqued.
He stepped closer, his small frame moving carefully to avoid the clutter scattered across the floor. The cloth was thick with dust, and as he tugged at it, a faint cloud rose into the air, making him cough. Underneath, a wooden box came into view. Its surface was worn and scratched, the hinges slightly rusted, as though it had been forgotten for years.
Crius knelt before it, his heart beginning to race. This was new. Something exciting, finally. He ran his fingers over the rough wood, then grasped the lid, hesitating for just a moment before lifting it slowly.
Inside, three books rested side by side, their covers faded but still holding a strange, inviting aura. Crius's eyes widened as he carefully removed them, setting them on the floor in front of him.
He brushed the dust away with his small hands, revealing the titles:
The first read, "Healing Arts for Beginners: Part One." Crius tilted his head, intrigued but not overly excited. It seemed practical, maybe useful, but it didn't spark the thrill he was looking for.
The second was far more intriguing. Its cover was tattered and torn, the title barely legible: "Weapon Arts, The Wind Dance: Part 3." Crius's breath hitched as he opened it eagerly, his fingers flipping through the pages. Inside, he found detailed sketches of swords, stances, and anatomy diagrams, all interspersed with sparse and technical text.
But as he skimmed, a frown crept onto his face. It was too advanced, too cryptic for him to understand. After a few moments of trying to make sense of it, he sighed and set it aside.
Finally, Crius's eyes landed on the third book. It was small and well-kept compared to the others, with the title "Bloodline Aspects" embossed in faint, elegant script. He picked it up, but as he glanced at the cover, a sense of indifference washed over him. The synopsis of the book seemed straightforward, information regarding the bloodline aspects, their requirements, and what they were. It didn't sound nearly as exciting or as adventurous as the other books, but something about it nagged at him.
It didn't contain any drawings or intricate diagrams like the Weapon Arts book, nor did it promise magical secrets like the Healing Arts book. Instead, it seemed to be more practical, perhaps even academic in nature. But Crius didn't dismiss it completely. His curiosity made him wonder if it might contain something important that he didn't quite understand yet.
With a sigh, Crius decided to take the book anyway. There was no harm in having it, just in case.
He tucked the book under his arm, alongside the Healing Arts book, and stood up.
As Crius stood there, the box now empty before him, he felt a strange mix of excitement and uncertainty. His fingers brushed against the two books he had chosen; the Healing Arts book and Bloodline Aspects, a small thrill sparked in his chest.
He had uncovered something new, something that could finally lead him to the knowledge and adventure he so desperately craved.
But as he looked back at the rooftop, at the rusted swords and old relics that had once held his fascination, a quiet unease settled over him. He couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning. The Bloodline Aspects book, despite its lack of immediate appeal, seemed to pull at him. There was a strange weight to it, something he couldn't quite place, like it held a secret that wasn't meant to be known yet.
His mind wandered to his early childhood, to the nights when his mother used to read him stories about these things called aspects. He barely remembered the details, just fleeting images of elemental powers, of people who awakened at the age of 13 to some great potential hidden within them.
Those stories had never fully made sense to him. She had always spoken about them as if they were something far off, something distant. Crius had listened with wide eyes, but the idea that he might one day awaken his own power had seemed like a dream, a faraway idea that didn't cross his mind that much.
He didn't know what the Bloodline Aspects book contained. He hadn't even opened it. All he knew was that his mother had often mentioned these aspects, how they were the key to one's power and destiny. He also knew that only those who reached the age of 13 would awaken. It was a secret that everyone seemed to hold, even his parents...
"What are you."
Crius whispered to the book, his curiosity starting to turn into a sense of purpose. It was as if the book itself was waiting for him to unlock the answer.
As he turned to leave the rooftop, a faint noise caught his attention; a creak followed by the gentle rustling of something moving. He froze for a moment, then quickly dismissed the thought. If it was parents, they wouldn't hide so it was probably some insect or so.
Still, there was a feeling in the air, something that lingered as he made his way back down to his room. He laid the books on his small desk, the Healing Arts and Bloodline Aspects resting side by side. Crius didn't open the Bloodline Aspects book just yet, but his fingers brushed lightly against the cover.
As Crius sat on his bed, his thoughts flickered to what he had been told when he was younger.
That everyone would receive their power when they turned 13. He wondered if his own awakening would be anything like the stories his mother had read to him, and if so, what power would be his?
He placed the Bloodline Aspects book down with quiet resolve. He might not understand it all yet, but he had no doubt that the day he would awaken was coming. And when it did, he'd be ready.
With a slow breath, Crius opened the book. His fingers hovered over the first page before he finally turned it, his heart quickening with every second. The first page was nearly a blank page except for a single line of text written in a sharp, elegant hand:
"To awaken is to embrace the essence of your bloodline. What you find within will shape your destiny."
The words felt heavier than they should have, and Crius couldn't help but feel drawn to them.
His gaze lingered for a moment longer, before he turned the page, his chest now piqued with the curiosity to know more.