The sun hadn't yet fully risen when Lyra stirred in her bed, her eyelids fluttering open as the faint light of the Flowlines seeped through the cracks of their modest home. The soft hum of energy seemed to harmonize with the stillness of the room. She sat up, yawning as her auburn hair fell into her eyes.
Eron wasn't in his bed.
She spotted him immediately, standing in the far corner of the room. He was moving—silent, deliberate motions that flowed like water, each gesture precise and controlled. His cloak billowed slightly as if stirred by an invisible wind.
For a moment, Lyra stayed quiet, watching. She'd always known her brother was different, but times like these reminded her just how much. There was something almost otherworldly about the way he moved, as though he wasn't just practicing but conversing with the very shadows themselves.
Finally, unable to contain herself, she cleared her throat loudly.
"Eron," she said, smirking when he froze mid-motion. "You know normal people sleep before their big day, right?"
He turned, his sharp gray eyes meeting hers. "Good morning to you too, Lyra," he said, pulling his hood down and stepping over to the small table.
Lyra stretched and hopped out of bed. "Don't think I didn't notice how impressive that looked," she teased. "You're showing off again."
"I wasn't showing off," Eron replied, rolling his eyes as he began slicing bread.
"You totally were," she said, plopping into a chair and resting her chin on her hands. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to scare the other kids before the Trials."
He glanced at her. "It's just practice."
"Uh-huh. Sure." Lyra grinned. "Keep saying that. Maybe one day you'll believe it too."
Eron set the bread, some fruit, and a small pot of tea on the table. Lyra immediately reached for the fruit, her grin softening into something warmer as she took a bite.
"You're nervous, aren't you?" she asked between bites.
"A little," he admitted, pouring tea into their cups. "Not about the Trials themselves. It's..."
"Everything else?" Lyra finished for him, raising an eyebrow.
He nodded, not meeting her gaze.
"Well, don't be," she said firmly, leaning back in her chair. "You've got this. And if anyone says otherwise, they'll have to deal with me."
Eron smirked faintly. "That's not as reassuring as you think."
"Rude!" Lyra laughed, throwing a small piece of bread at him.
The Weight of Whispers
The Kaelis siblings had lived in Loryn for six years, but for Eron, it had never truly felt like home. The villagers saw him as an outsider, a strange, quiet boy who didn't belong.
It started with whispers: "That's the boy whose parents were killed, isn't it? They say they were Flowline traitors."
But over time, the whispers turned to scorn. When he walked through the market, merchants would pull their wares closer, as if afraid he might steal them. Farmers muttered about his "unnatural" presence. Children were warned not to play near him.
Even the other youths preparing for the Trials had no trouble making their disdain clear.
"Kaelis?" one of the boys had scoffed the day before. "He'll be the first to fail. Weak and useless."
"Bet he doesn't even try," another had said, laughing.
Eron had ignored them, as he always did, but their words stung.
The abuse wasn't always verbal. Just last week, a merchant had "accidentally" spilled a barrel of spoiled grain onto Eron's cloak while he was walking through the square.
"Oops," the man had said, grinning. "Clumsy me."
When Eron had bent down to clean himself, another villager muttered, "A cloak's wasted on someone like him anyway."
And then there was Darian Torrik.
A Thorn in Eron's Side
Darian had always been one of the loudest voices against Eron. Whenever they crossed paths, Darian's taunts followed like a shadow.
"Hey, Kaelis," Darian called out as Eron and Lyra walked through the square that morning. He was surrounded by his usual group of admirers, his smirk firmly in place. "Big day, huh? Think you'll last five minutes?"
Eron kept walking, his hood pulled low.
"Maybe you should just stay home," Darian continued, his voice loud enough to draw attention. "Save yourself the embarrassment."
Lyra clenched her fists. "Ignore him," she hissed.
"I am," Eron replied evenly, though his jaw tightened.
Morning Light
Outside, the village of Loryn was already coming alive. The hum of Flowline-powered mills mixed with the clatter of carts and the chatter of merchants. Farmers hauled crates of fresh produce, and children dashed through the cobblestone streets, shrieking with laughter.
As Eron and Lyra stepped outside, a familiar voice called out.
"Eron! Lyra! Good morning!"
Rylan, the friendly shopkeeper, was approaching with a broad smile, carrying a small pouch in one hand.
"Morning, Rylan," Lyra replied cheerfully.
"Morning," Eron added, nodding.
Rylan handed Eron the pouch with a grin. "Here, something for good luck."
Eron opened it to find a small charm carved from Flowline crystal, its surface etched with protective sigils.
"You didn't have to do this," Eron said, genuinely touched.
"Bah, it's nothing," Rylan said, waving him off. "Besides, I've got a good feeling about you, lad. You're gonna surprise everyone."
"I hope so," Eron said quietly, tucking the charm into his cloak.
As they chatted, Mina, one of Lyra's closest friends, bounded over.
"Lyra! Eron!" she called, her braided hair bouncing as she ran. "Good luck today, Eron!"
"Thanks, Mina," he replied.
Lyra grinned. "See? Mina's got the right attitude. Everyone else should be this supportive."
"Maybe you should make them," Eron said dryly.
Lyra gasped in mock horror. "Are you saying I'm bossy?"
"Absolutely."
The three of them burst into laughter, the tension in Eron's chest easing just a little.
And so, with the laughter of his sister and her friends carrying through the morning air, Eron Kaelis took a deep breath. Today was the beginning of something much bigger than the Trials.