The days turned into weeks, and with every passing moment, Caelum's world came alive in more detail. His new life-strange and yet so full of comfort, a world of wonder-rebirth into magic, mythical creatures, and power that he had never known existed. Whispers of trolls-the great beasts of the mountains that roamed, and the elves, living in the hidden cities of the woods, filled his eyes with wisdom and sorrow. Here, in this world and not in his own, had a pulse: a rhythm to magic that danced in air.
More so, Caelum had a family; he had parents-Mira and Toren-and before him, a future was laid out.
He spent his days with them, watching his father train with his sword, his movements almost as graceful as the years of battle etched into his form. Toren was a man of action, someone who had once been a renowned swordsman, yet now he chose a simpler life in this quiet village. He taught the boy Caelum how to sword fight, the way of the sword, although the latter was much too young to handle one. All the same, these lessons stayed in his head, waiting for the perfect time to bloom.
Mira, on the other hand, was a healer-a woman with tender hands and an empathetic heart. She taught Caelum about the magic of nature: the herbs that healed and the potions that soothed. There was a quiet strength in her, an inner power that Caelum acknowledged. She too once had been an adventurer-a healer who traveled far and wide, saving lives and restoring hope. That part of her, though, was from the past now, a life left behind when she married Toren and settled here in the village.
But the most important person that Caelum met in his early days wasn't his parents; it was a girl—a friend, though she didn't feel like a mere friend.
Her name was Lirael, and she was an elf.
Lirael had grown up in the village, the daughter of a traveling merchant who'd settled here for a time. Her hair was silver-white, save where the green streaked through it, like leaves in spring. Her skin was pale, almost translucent, and her eyes—bright green and full of life—held a depth that Caelum had never seen in any human. There was something otherworldly about her, something ancient.
Lirael was as much a part of Caelum's new life as his parents. From the moment they met, she seemed to understand him in ways others couldn't. She had a calmness about her, an elegance that belied her young years. They played together often, racing through the forests surrounding the village, climbing trees, and exploring the meadows where mythical creatures roamed.
One day, playing in the forest, Lirael had said something that made him stop and stare.
"I can hear the threads, too," she said cross-legged beneath a massive oak tree. Her voice was low, almost a whisper as if she shared a confidence with the wind. "It's not just magic. It's the world's heartbeat. You'll learn to feel it soon. But only if you listen."
Caelum cocked his head on one side. "You can hear the threads?" he repeated. "But… how?"
Lirael smiled to herself, her gaze elsewhere. "My people have always known the threads. We are born with the sight and sense of them. It's what connects all things in the world. The air, the trees, the stones beneath your feet-all of it is bound, and if you listen with care, you come to understand the world.
Her words stuck with him. In the days that followed, Caelum found himself drawn to the forest, sitting in silence, trying to hear what Lirael described. It wasn't easy: he could feel the wind brushing against his skin, but he couldn't make sense of it, not like she could. Still, he kept trying, avid to understand, knowing full well this was the key to unlocking his potential.