During their peaceful walk in the forest, a man and a woman discovered something that would forever change their lives.
"What is that?" the woman whispered, her voice a blend of awe and trepidation. In the center of a serene clearing, two children lay. The boy appeared unconscious, his expression calm, almost as if he were simply sleeping. The girl, on the other hand, stood over him, her tiny fists glowing with an otherworldly blue light. She couldn't have been more than five, but there was something fierce in her stance—a protector, unyielding despite her delicate frame.
The man stepped forward cautiously, his hands raised in a gesture of peace. "It's alright, little one," he said gently, his voice as soft as the breeze stirring the surrounding leaves. "We mean you no harm. We want to help."
The girl's eyes locked onto his, sharp and searching, flickering with uncertainty. Her trembling betrayed her exhaustion, yet she held her ground, her resolve unbroken. For a tense moment, it seemed she might fight. Then, as if conceding to an invisible force, the glow around her fists dimmed, and her small body swayed before succumbing to her fatigue. The man caught her as she collapsed, cradling her fragile frame in his arms.
The woman rushed to the boy's side, kneeling to lift his limp body into her embrace. His slight weight felt fragile in her arms, but she instinctively sensed the burden he carried was far heavier than it appeared.
What they couldn't know at that moment was that these children—whom they would later call Amelia and Nachtan—were far from ordinary. Survivors of an unspoken tragedy, they bore within them immense, untapped power and the shadows of a forgotten past. By taking them in, the couple unwittingly set in motion events that would ripple far beyond their quiet existence.
Over the years, Amelia and Nachtan became part of an unconventional family. Joining Ronan, Nola, Gavin, and Leo—the couple's four other adopted children—they wove their lives together. Their home became a sanctuary of resilience and second chances, though always teetering on the edge of chaos.
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Nexuria stretched out before them like a city caught between two worlds, its past glory crumbling beneath the weight of neglect. The narrow streets wove through a maze of mismatched buildings, where crooked rooftops sagged, barely held up by the structures that leaned into each other like weary friends. Sunlight struggled to break through the tangle of steel and brick, casting dim, filtered light onto the cracked cobblestones below.
Despite its dilapidated state, Nexuria was still alive. The streets were filled with people bustling, making do with what they had, their lives shaped by scarcity. Vendors peddled their wares from makeshift stalls—many selling daily necessities, others offering contraband of questionable origin. Stray animals scavenged through debris, competing with the city's residents for scraps. And here, in the heart of this struggling metropolis, abilities known as anomalytes were used openly—everyday acts of survival empowered by small gifts of fire, water, or strength. A woman flicked her fingers, and flames danced beneath a boiling pot. A man stretched out his hand, and water from a well arched toward him in a perfect stream. Power was as common as poverty in Nexuria, though not all abilities were equal.
The walls were splashed with vibrant graffiti, declarations of resistance and bursts of color standing against the backdrop of gray decay. There was a vibrancy here, a tenacity. Nexuria had fallen, but it was not yet defeated.
Elora moved confidently through the crowded streets, her silver hair glinting in the fading sunlight. She was no stranger to this place; Nexuria's hardships were woven into her own life. Behind her, her children followed in a loose line, each distinct in their mannerisms and personality.
Amelia, the most recent addition to the family, walked with her head held high, her sharp eyes darting across the streets, always scanning, always aware. Even at nine, she carried herself with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. Her abilities, awakened and growing stronger with every passing year, had marked her as different—special. And she knew it.
Nola, the eldest, was lost in her usual state, with her nose buried in a book, barely registering the chaos of the world around her. She moved through Nexuria as if the streets didn't exist, content in the safety of her stories.
Gavin, the more disorderly half of another set of twins, trailed behind, more focused on his younger brother than on the city. "You're never going to be tough if you keep acting like such a weakling, Nachtan," he teased, his voice loud enough to draw a few glances from passersby.
Nachtan, the youngest at 6, kept his head down, fists clenched at his sides. "I'm not weak," he muttered, though his words lacked conviction. His abilities had yet to manifest, leaving him feeling like an outsider even within his own family. He was quieter, more withdrawn, a black sheep among the siblings.
Gavin smirked. "Then prove it," he said, giving Nachtan a shove.
Before the exchange could escalate, Nola spoke up without lifting her eyes from her book. "Gavin, pick on someone who's actually interested in your lowbrow attempts at humor."
Ronan, ever the family clown, chimed in, grinning. "Or, better yet, someone who has the brain cells to spare. I think Leo's a better match."
Leo, Gavin's twin, seemed entirely uninterested in the conversation. Half-asleep as usual, he trudged along, somehow managing to ignore the surrounding noise.
Elora glanced back at the group, her lips curving into a soft smile. The bickering had become background noise to her over the years—a sign of life. "Motherhood," she murmured to herself, shaking her head slightly. "Never a dull moment."
Ahead of them, the neon sign of the Twin Owl Café flickered into view, its warm light spilling onto the street. The café had always been a sanctuary for Elora, a place of peace amidst the chaos. Nestled between two leaning buildings, its exterior was quaint, with large windows offering a glimpse of the cozy interior within. The smell of roasted coffee beans and fresh pastries greeted them as they stepped inside, the familiar scent wrapping around them like a comforting blanket.
The brothers who ran the café, Varric and Lorian, stood behind the counter, their graying hair and weathered faces betraying years of hard work. Varric, the more jovial of the two, beamed as he saw them enter. "Elora! You've brought the whole lot this time!" he called, his booming voice filling the small space.
Elora smiled warmly. I can't keep them locked up at home forever, can I?
Lorian, quieter and more reserved, nodded at her but eyed the children with a hint of skepticism. "Still managing to keep up with them all?" he asked dryly.
"Just barely," Elora teased as she guided her children to a table near the window. "They keep life interesting, to say the least."
As the children settled, their familiar squabbling resumed. Amelia, naturally, took the largest pastry without hesitation, while Gavin tried to swipe a piece off of Nachtan's plate. Ronan, ever opportunistic, attempted to sneak another from Nola, though she slapped his hand away without looking up from her book.
Elora watched them with a fond smile. They were far from perfect, but they were hers.
Once the children were occupied, Varric leaned in, lowering his voice. "So, what's really brought you to Nexuria today? Not just coffee and pastries, I assume."
Elora's expression grew more serious. "I have business in Abranta. Council matters."
Lorian scoffed. "Abranta? Still playing their game?"
"I'm not playing anyone's game," Elora replied evenly. "But the council's decisions affect us all. I need to ensure Nexuria doesn't get left behind."
"You used to fight for Nexuria," Lorian muttered. "Now it feels like you're just trying to keep the peace."
Elora softly said, 'I am fighting for my children now,' as she glanced at the table where the children were still engrossed in their bickering. "Sometimes, keeping the peace is the only way to protect them."
Varric, sensing the tension, offered a solution. "Need someone to watch the kids while you're gone?"
She nodded, her decision firm. "I'll be taking Nachtan with me this time. I want him to see more of the world."
Nachtan looked up, his expression carefully neutral, though a flicker of surprise danced in his eyes. "Me?"
"Yes," Elora repeated, her voice gentle but resolute. "You're ready. It's high time you visit Abranta and discover what lies beyond Nexuria since you haven't been there yet. There is more to the world than what we are familiar with. You may not have manifested your anomalyte yet, Nachtan, but that doesn't mean you don't belong. I can guarantee you that you will have a great time there and discover lots of new things."
Nachtan nodded slowly, a mix of emotions swirling inside him—nervousness, excitement, but also something else. A little of Suspicion. He didn't show it, though. He had never been taken to Abranta before, not once, even though the others had gone. Amelia had visited with Elora a lot of times. Gavin had gone a few times after he turned eight, and Leo had tagged along. Nola went for council matters when she was still young, carrying herself like an adult. But for some reason, Nachtan had always been left behind, watching the others return with stories of gleaming towers and strange technology—worlds apart from Nexuria's crumbling streets.
He kept his thoughts to himself, as usual. What had changed? And why now?
Elora bent down, reaching into the folds of her coat. She withdrew a small, shimmering bag—a pocket-dimension pouch. It looked almost ordinary, no bigger than the palm of her hand, but Nachtan knew better. That bag could hold an entire household if needed. She had packed it already, without him noticing. "We'll leave shortly," she said, her tone brisk. "I've got everything we need for the journey."
Nachtan's gaze lingered on the pouch. How long had she been planning this? There was a strange efficiency to it all, like she'd known she'd be taking him today. His thoughts churned, but he stayed silent, masking his unease behind a carefully composed face.
Elora straightened, looking around at the rest of the children. "Behave for Varric and Lorian, alright?"
A chorus of indifferent replies followed—Amelia too absorbed in her own thoughts to react, Gavin barely acknowledging, Ronan giving a playful salute, and Leo… well, Leo was half asleep, as usual. The usual chaotic chorus of a family that was all noise and bickering on the surface, but bound by something deeper.
Elora smiled, trusting them to manage. She motioned to Nachtan, who reluctantly followed, his mind still turning over her words as they stepped out into the fading light of Nexuria. The towering skyline of Abranta loomed far in the distance, gleaming like a mirage against the broken backdrop of their city.
As they walked through the familiar streets, Nachtan couldn't shake the feeling that this journey was more than just a chance to see the world beyond Nexuria's borders. There was something about Elora's decision, the way she'd packed without a word, the suddenness of it all. Something she wasn't telling him.
But he didn't ask. He wasn't like Gavin, who would badger until answers were dragged out. He wasn't Amelia, who always assumed she deserved to know. He was Nachtan—the quiet one. The one they didn't expect much from.
And so, he kept his suspicions to himself, letting the questions gather like storm clouds as they walked together, the shadows of Nexuria giving way to the bright light of Abranta ahead.