The tale of Hallinos began with Manuel, who discovered the land over 500 years ago. Declaring himself king, he ruled the city with an iron hand—but also with remarkable incompetence. Manuel ignored the famine devastating his people, turned a blind eye to slavery, and allowed unchecked exploitation. His reign of neglect sparked a revolution, led by James Calderon, a man who united the suffering citizens against their oppressor. 

Calderon overthrew Manuel and brought peace and progress to Hallinos. As the new king, he became a symbol of hope. According to legend, Calderon once had a vision—a prophecy that a future leader would rise to save Hallinos from a grave danger, just as he had. 

Logan shut the book with a soft thud. His audience, two boys sitting cross-legged on the floor, reacted in starkly different ways. 

"That's boring!" declared Ronan, the older of the two brothers. His sharp tone broke the room's brief silence. "I don't care about some prophecy. I want to hear about the battles! Who killed who?" 

Logan, sitting on the couch, gave him a pointed look. "You're too young for that, Ronan," he said flatly. "This story isn't about blood and guts—it's about James Calderon's victory and how he changed Hallinos." 

Ronan rolled his eyes and flopped backward dramatically. His younger brother, Aiden, spoke up. "I think the story is great," he said with wide-eyed enthusiasm. 

Ronan turned his head to glare at him. "Of course you do." 

Before an argument could erupt, the sound of a door unlocking downstairs drew everyone's attention. Aiden jumped up, his small frame barely contained by his excitement. "Mom!" he shouted, ready to bolt down the stairs. 

Logan stood quickly, holding out his hand. "Whoa, keep it down! Jessie's asleep," he reminded the boy. Jessie, the youngest sibling at just three years old, had finally fallen asleep after an exhausting tantrum earlier in the evening. 

Logan followed the boys downstairs, making sure they didn't wake their sister. At the front door stood Mrs. Kovan, their mother, her hands full with grocery bags and her face lit with a tired but genuine smile. 

"Good evening, Miss Kovan," Logan said politely. 

"Good evening, Logan," she replied. "How were they tonight?" 

"They were good," Logan answered, though his tone held the weariness of someone who had just spent hours refereeing sibling squabbles. "Jessie's already asleep upstairs." 

Mrs. Kovan smiled warmly. "Thank you. I don't know what I'd do without you." 

Logan hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "Is Mr. Kovan still traveling?" 

Her smile faltered, just for a second. "Yes. Something came up, so he had to stay away a little longer," she said, her voice carefully neutral. 

Logan nodded, though he couldn't shake the sense that there was more to the story. 

"Mom!" Aiden and Ronan yelled in unison as they rushed forward to hug their mother, breaking the brief tension in the air. 

Taking that as his cue, Logan gathered his things. "I'll get going. Thanks for letting me know," he said. 

"Do you want me to give you a ride home?" Mrs. Kovan asked, her usual kindness evident in the offer. 

Logan shook his head. "Thanks, but I'll bike. It's not far." 

She didn't press further, and Logan slipped out the door. The cool night air hit his face as he mounted his bike and started pedaling. The streets were quiet, and the hum of the tires on the pavement filled the silence. 

But as he rode, Logan couldn't stop thinking about the way Mrs. Kovan had hesitated. Something about her husband's absence didn't sit right with him. 

---

A few minutes later, Logan arrived home. He pushed open the front door, letting it creak slightly as it swung inward. The house was dimly lit, its silence broken only by the low hum of a television playing to no one. 

Logan stepped into the kitchen, intending to make himself a sandwich. As he crossed the living room, his eyes landed on his father sprawled across the couch, snoring softly. 

Two empty beer bottles rested on the floor beside him, and the flickering glow of the TV cast shifting shadows over his unshaven face. Logan let out a quiet sigh, frustration bubbling under the surface. He walked over, turned off the television, and scooped up the bottles. 

His father had promised him just yesterday that he'd attend a job interview that morning—a cashier position at a nearby store. But, as always, the promise had been empty. He hadn't even made it out of the house. 

Logan tossed the bottles into the trash with more force than necessary, the clinking sound echoing in the quiet kitchen. He grabbed some bread, cold cuts, and cheese, quickly assembling a sandwich. His movements were precise, almost mechanical, his mind swirling with anger and disappointment. 

With the sandwich in hand, Logan stomped upstairs to his room, shutting the door behind him. He sat on the edge of his bed, biting into the sandwich absentmindedly. The room felt stifling, not because of its size but because of the weight of everything unspoken between him and his father. 

The anger simmered, but underneath it lay something heavier—an ache, a longing for a father who kept his promises.

---

The warm evening air smelled of grilled meat and car exhaust as Maria stepped off the bus. She clutched her small suitcase, scanning the streets of Hallinos with equal parts awe and trepidation. 

"Auroralis," she whispered to herself. The stories she'd heard about this city—the opportunities and dangers—felt all too real now. 

The bus stop wasn't crowded, but it was noisy. A street vendor shouted about tacos on the other side of the road, while a man in torn clothing pushed a shopping cart overflowing with cans and bottles. Maria held her suitcase a little tighter. 

Her Aunt Ana had promised to pick her up, but there was no sign of her. For a moment, Maria debated walking on her own but quickly dismissed the idea. The city felt like a jungle, and she wasn't ready to face it alone. 

Across the street, a group of teenagers laughed loudly. They were tossing a soda can back and forth, their eyes darting toward passersby. One of them, a boy in a leather jacket, caught her gaze for a second too long. Maria quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the cracked pavement under her feet. 

A honk startled her. An old SUV pulled up in front of the bus stop, and a woman with curly black hair leaned out of the window, grinning widely. "Maria! Over here!" 

Maria let out a sigh of relief as she recognized her Aunt Ana. She hurried to the car, threw her suitcase into the back, and climbed in. 

"I was starting to think you weren't coming," Maria said, her voice half-joking, half-serious. 

Ana laughed. "This is Auroralis, sweetheart. Punctuality is not our strong suit." 

As they drove off, Maria took in the city through the car window. The bright lights of the main street gave way to darker alleys and looming buildings. Somewhere deep in her chest, she felt a mix of fear and excitement. 

"Get ready," Ana said, her tone light but her words heavy with meaning. "This city will take everything you've got."