When Alex woke up, it was still dark outside, and the room felt cold. There was the sound of rustling, quiet children in the hostel, buried under flimsy blankets, trying to gain as much warmth as they could before they had to get up. For Alex, it was nothing new; the orphanage had early beginnings and every day was the same.
But he always had a different morning. There was an emptiness in the mornings that persisted, a sense that something was missing. His fingers found the necklace around his neck, hidden beneath his shirt, and he lay cold in the dark. The night he arrived at the orphanage, he was handed a little piece of silver shaped like a sign he did not comprehend. The matron informed Alex that it was all he had left, but he had no idea who had left it or why.
His sole link to the past was the necklace. His first recollection was of sitting on the steps of the orphanage, shivering in the chilly night air, staring up at the big structure, and not knowing how he got there. He was maybe three or four years old. Like a dream, he could only vaguely remember, the recollection was vague. He simply recalled holding on to the necklace as if it were his only defense.
As the sun began to rise, Alex closed his eyes and tried to imagine what life would be like outside the orphanage. He was aware that the world extended beyond these boundaries and that there were individuals with families who loved them and who were aware of their origins and plans. However, Alex's existence was filled with unsolved questions and locked doors.
Mrs. Beale, the matron, was an elderly lady with a gravelly voice and a severe demeanor. She seldom discussed the children's pasts, emphasizing that the orphanage was now their sole home and that the only future they need worry about was the one they had created for themselves out of the struggles they had faced. Alex, however, was unable to accept that. There was something about him that didn't quite fit, and he felt different from the other children. Mrs. Beale would sometimes be caught looking at him for an extended time, her countenance inscrutable.
Alex found an old newspaper story hidden in a forgotten drawer one morning while assisting with cleaning the dusty storage area. The year he had come was the date on it. "Royal Tragedy: Entire Family Disappears Overnight" was the headline. A weird shiver raced down his spine as he gazed at the words. As he read the piece, his hands trembled, although no names or pictures were included. The phrases seemed to be whispering secrets to him that he was unable to comprehend.
However, the idea vanished as soon as it appeared. He was simply Alex, a young man without a family, no last name, and no prospects outside of the orphanage.
Nevertheless, Alex had a knack for making ends meet. Although he had learned to survive, life in the orphanage was difficult. Alex had a sharp intellect and an even faster escape strategy than the larger lads, who pushed him about. He was familiar with every nook and cranny of the structure, every loose floorboard, and every place to hide his meager possessions.
He was well-known among the market workers and sellers outside the orphanage. Even though the city was huge and had winding, maze-like lanes, it was his playground. He knew which stores had the loosest morals, who to woo for a few more bucks, and where to locate food leftovers. Being a survivor, Alex understood how to get by on nothing.
He would sometimes find himself at the town center, looking at the imposing structures that lined the horizon and dreaming of a life beyond the hand-me-downs and rags. He would see families walking past, parents holding hands, and kids laughing. It was a world he could only imagine and one he didn't comprehend. He had been alone for as long as he could remember, a face in a throng, and unnoticed by everyone.
However, a beggar sitting at the square's edge was the only one who saw him. The guy, his eyes clouded with age and his clothing ragged, was shunned. But sometimes, as if he knew something no one else did, he would look into Alex's eyes and nod.
The elderly guy invited Alex over one evening while he was loitering close to the plaza.
"Do you know who you are, boy?" the beggar sounded, his voice almost audible above a whisper.
The question weighed heavily on Alex, and he froze. He had asked himself that question several times, but he had never spoken it out loud.
He said, attempting to hide the hesitancy in his voice, "I'm just Alex."
The man's laugh was brittle and dry. Nobody can be "just" anything. Not you in particular.
Alex made an uncomfortable change. "What do you mean?"
Leaning forward, the beggar's eyes, while cloudy, were piercing. "That pendant around your neck is more than simply a piece of jewelry. It's an indication of something that has long since been forgotten. Even you are unaware of the heritage you bear.
A shiver went down Alex's back. "How were you made aware of the pendant?"
The elderly man's eyes softened and briefly took on an almost dejected expression. "Some things are seen without sight. Keep in mind, kid, that there's a reason your history is kept concealed from you. When the moment is appropriate, you will comprehend.
Alex had a thousand questions, but the beggar turned away before he could ask any more. His thoughts racing, he made his way back to the orphanage. Who was he? What was the meaning of the pendant? And why did he get the impression that someone or something was out there, just waiting for him to find out?
He was gripping the pendant as he lay in bed that night when he had the most peculiar feeling. His fingertips began to feel warm, pulsating like a pulse. Only he could see the delicate light that appeared to be shed by the pendant's faint glow.
Flashes of pictures appeared in his dreams: a crown sitting on a velvet cushion, a huge hall draped with tapestries, and an ancient castle on a hill, shrouded in mist. The sights were clear but ephemeral, sliding from his grasp every time he attempted to grasp them.
The room was quiet and dark when he woke up, but he sensed a change inside of him, a peculiar feeling of purpose that he couldn't quite put his finger on. Although the city served as his jail and the orphanage as his cage, he secretly believed that he was destined for something more. One thing was clear: his life was not his own, even if he had no idea what lay ahead or why the nightmares were haunting him so much. He was a component in a game that was far bigger than himself and that he was still learning about.
However, he would. He would escape and discover the truth one day. He would hold onto the necklace till then, a little glimmer of hope amid the gloom of his orphan existence.