Eryndor was a child unlike any other in Brindlemark. While his peers were robust and full of energy, he was frail and often sickly. His body seemed to be fragile, as if it might shatter at the slightest touch. His skin was pale, almost translucent, and his eyes, though bright with curiosity, were often sunken from lack of sleep.
Despite his physical weaknesses, Eryndor's mind was a sharp and inquisitive instrument. He would spend hours poring over the few books that the village possessed, devouring knowledge like a starving man at a feast. He was particularly drawn to the stories of the ancient world, before the coming of the Abyssal Shards, when the sun shone bright and the land was green and fertile.
But Eryndor's love of learning was not without its costs. His frequent illnesses and lack of physical strength made him an outcast among his peers. The other children would tease him, calling him names like "weakling" and "sickly". They would exclude him from their games, leaving him to play alone, or with the village's elderly, who were more tolerant of his frailty.
Eryndor's mother, Lyra, would often try to comfort him, telling him that he was special, that his mind was a gift, and that one day he would do great things. But even her words of encouragement could not shield him from the cruel taunts of the other children.
As a result, Eryndor grew up feeling isolated, like an outsider looking in. He would watch the other children playing, their laughter and shouts carrying on the wind, and he would feel a deep sense of longing. He wanted to be like them, to be strong and carefree, to be able to run and play without fear of exhaustion or injury.
But it was not to be. Eryndor's body seemed determined to betray him, to hold him back from experiencing the world in all its beauty and wonder. And so, he would retreat into his own little world, a world of books and imagination, where he could be anyone, and do anything.
Despite this, Eryndor's spirit remained unbroken. He would often sneak away to the edge of the village, where he would gaze up at the Abyssal Shard, feeling an inexplicable connection to its power. He would dream of one day being strong enough to explore the shard, to unlock its secrets, and to harness its power.
And so, Eryndor's days were filled with a mix of sadness and longing, but also with a sense of wonder, and a determination to overcome his physical limitations. He would spend hours sketching, trying to capture the beauty of the world around him, and to understand the mysteries of the Abyssal Shard.
As the sun began to set, casting the village in a warm orange glow, Eryndor would return to his home, his heart heavy with the weight of his own frailty. But even in his darkest moments, he would hold onto the hope that one day, he would be more than just a frail child, that he would be a force to be reckoned with, a master of the Abyssal Shard's power.
Little did he know, that day was closer than he thought, and the journey ahead of him would be filled with challenges, and wonders, beyond his wildest imagination.