*three year before the border attack and the tragedy of Elios*
The setting sun bathed the corridor in amber light. A gentle voice echoed:
"Elios! Prayer time is over, time for bed!"
The five-year-old boy was already climbing the stairs.
"Dad..." he began softly, turning to his father with a look he knew well, "Can you tell me a story?"
His father, a thirty-year-old man with a pleasant face framed by black hair, adjusted his glasses in a familiar gesture. Despite his youth, he emanated an aura of serenity and wisdom.
"Hmm..." He gave a benevolent smile. "Alright, I'll tell you the story of your name."
"My name!" Elios responded.
His father let out a slight laugh. "Yes."
"But after that, straight to bed. Your mother is taking you to the church in the neighboring district early tomorrow."
Elios nodded calmly, but his eyes betrayed his excitement. In his room, he settled on his bed, sitting cross-legged, back straight, just like during church lessons.
His father sat on the edge of the bed. Elios noticed how his father's gaze changed, becoming more distant, as if revisiting events that had occurred nine years ago.
"I was twenty-one..." his father began. "I was a missionary in the far north of the country, in the Ice Lands..."
Elios listened, motionless in his bed.
"When we arrived, Brother John and I were greeted by the violent cold," his father started.
"The natives had a natural resistance to cold, passed down through generations. As for me, I was already shivering after five hours there..."
*The wind howled like a wild beast across the frozen lands. Accompanied by Brother John and two local guides, we carried the holy word and supplies to isolated villages.
The natives were resistant to cold, but even they weren't immune to the harshness of their land.*
Elios's gaze never left his father, the child's eyes sparkling with attention.
*For two weeks, we traveled through the villages, sharing supplies, provisions, and above all, the word of the holy church.
Brother John ended up staying at the cabin, his body no longer able to withstand the extreme cold. I continued alone, perhaps out of pride, perhaps out of duty...*
"I was afraid, alone in these frozen expanses," his father continued. "But sometimes, fear pushes us to continue rather than retreat."
"Sickness," his father went on, "struck me down after an additional week of rounds.
Brother John's basic healing spells weren't enough."
"One morning tormented by wind, the worst happened. And that's when... The Esquizes appeared in the storm."
*The alarm cries echoed through the village.
The Esquizes, these terrible snow beasts, attacked under the cover of the storm. Brother John went out to help the warriors defend the village, and I, sick...*
"They resisted as best they could, trying to drive the beasts away, but it was futile. The Esquizes were too determined and took advantage of the storm."
"Seeing the situation worsen, despite my illness, I stood up, my light spells ready."
After multiple attacks in vain, I finally collapsed from exhaustion, Brother John couldn't take anymore.
We thought everything was over at that moment,
Having accepted my fate, I closed my eyes, hoping the Holy Paladin would come to our rescue.
*The Esquizes leaped toward us, their ice fangs gleaming in the turmoil...*
"And that's when..."
His father smiled, adjusting his glasses before continuing, his voice taking on a softer tone:
"Yes. At the moment when all seemed lost, a 'swish' was heard."
"Suddenly, an inexplicable warmth enveloped us. The violent wind that had been whipping us seconds earlier... completely disappeared.
A surreal calm settled in. I had my eyes closed, thinking it was the end, that I had reached paradise..."
"And then Brother John..." encouraged me to open my eyes.
"I heard John's voice: 'Jul! Jul! Look!'"
when I finally opened my eyes.
"I saw him. A man with deep, mysterious orange-yellow hair. He wore a white coat, not to protect himself from the cold, but as if to spare us from the hostile sight.
Around him, all the ice evaporated."
In the darkness, Elios listened, motionless, each word resonating in his mind like a living image.
"No more cold, no more wind. Even my illness seemed to dissipate instantly. And when he turned to us..." His father touched his own eyes. "His golden eyes shone with ancient wisdom. His benevolent smile when he asked if we were alright."
Brother John and I had believed, with absolute faith, that it was truly the Holy Paladin standing before us. We had knelt down, trembling with devotion, but he had stopped us with a humble gesture and said, in a timid voice, these words that had left us perplexed: "Rise, I am not a deity, nor anything similar."
The child remained perfectly attentive, his eyes fixed on his father as the story reached its climax.
"The Esquizes, drawn to his presence, converged on us. But with a simple wave of his hand..." His father made an elegant movement, "a blade of fire appeared. Flames different from anything I had ever seen before. They didn't burn - they purified. In an instant, all the Esquizes vanished under their touch."
His father lowered his voice, giving his words a sacred character: "Then, he did something even more extraordinary.
A prayer, or perhaps an incantation - words never heard before or since.
And in an instant, the whole area was filled with a gentle warmth, and the air filled with a soothing ember scent, like that of a welcoming hearth."
Elios breathed softly, as if part of the story.
"After this incident, he stayed with us for three days," his father continued, his eyes shining behind his glasses.
"Those three days changed everything. Wherever he went, the wounded healed miraculously. Even those at death's door regained their strength.
He spoke little, dodging most of our questions. But I remember the only time he truly confided in us..."
The young boy leaned imperceptibly forward, his attention doubled.
"He told us he was just a man seeking redemption for his past sins.
That he was destined to walk on all the lands he had once trampled. Yet, his eyes showed only kindness. And his smile... that constant smile that seemed to tell us everything would be alright."
Adjusting his glasses: "The villagers adored him. He attended the fallen warriors' funerals with deep respect. And more than that, he taught them to cultivate even in this impossible climate. It was as if he carried all the world's knowledge within him."
"He gave us scrolls, Brother John and me. Healing and defense spells that even the church's greatest scholars had never seen.
These spells... they were unique, created and perfected over the years.
When he practiced them, one could feel an unshakeable power mixed with great wisdom."
In the attentive silence of the room, he continued: "The storms ceased completely during his stay. His mere presence seemed to soothe the elements themselves."
His father took a deep breath, his voice softening even more. "On the last night, we were all sleeping. But by chance - or was it destiny - I woke at dawn. I saw him leave, his silhouette cutting through the morning mist."
Elios remained perfectly still, his hands gently gripping his blanket.
"I shouted: 'What is your name?' The distance was too great for a whisper to reach me. And yet... I heard his answer as clearly as if you were speaking to me now. 'My name is Elios, the Ultimate Flame Mage,' he said laughing, before disappearing into the mist."
Silence filled the room. The father leaned toward his son, his gaze intensifying behind his glasses.
"It's not by chance that you bear this name," he said softly. "As if by a miracle of destiny, you share with him this same fire magic."
In the darkness, Elios's eyes shone with a particular gleam, perhaps reflecting the echo of these ancestral flames.
"For me, this is not a mere coincidence," his father continued, his voice filled with reverence. "It's a true blessing. That's why we named you Elios."
He placed his hand on his son's shoulder. "You are the incarnation of this saving fire, my son. The same fire that, on that day, transformed despair into hope."
In the silence that followed, Elios contemplated his hands, as if seeking to perceive the echo of this purifying flame. This mystical connection with the mysterious Flame Mage gave a deeper meaning to his existence.
His father rose gently. "It's time to sleep now. But never forget that you carry not only his name, but also his flame - the one that brings light where darkness reigns."
In the darkness of his room, Elios closed his eyes. He felt the gentle warmth of his gift, and fell asleep thinking of the man whose name he bore.