The village of Vernis had once been a peaceful place, nestled on the edge of the Talisaar Kingdom, where the hills rolled green under a wide open sky. The farmers lived simple lives, working with the land and raising their families. It was a place where children laughed, where elders told stories by the fire, and where the sun set with hues of orange and gold that promised serenity. But now, as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, only darkness loomed.
The air was thick with smoke, and the scent of burning wood and flesh hung in the air, refusing to leave. What had once been a vibrant community was now a charred memory. The stone walls of the homes lay in ruin, blackened by flames. The only sounds that could be heard were the crackling of fire and the distant howls of creatures from the Voidlands, their presence marking the spread of Malgareth's dark influence.
At the center of the wreckage, standing amidst the broken stone, was a young boy. His name was Kaelen. No older than sixteen, he had been born in this village, lived through its seasons, and now, he stood as its last survivor. His clothes were torn, his face was streaked with ash, and his eyes were red from the smoke—and from the weight of the grief that threatened to drown him. He could still see the image of his mother, her smile before the attack, the sound of her laughter echoing in his memory. And then the screams. The burning heat of the raid. The fire that consumed everything he loved.
His mother, his sister, the elders, his friends—gone in an instant.
He had tried to fight. He had picked up whatever crude weapon he could find—a broken pitchfork, a rusted dagger—but it was nothing against the might of the Voidspawn, the twisted creatures sent by Malgareth, the malevolent force that sought to conquer Vaeloriax.
"Please..." Kaelen whispered to the wind, his hands trembling. "Let me change this... let me be strong."
There was no answer, only the wind howling around him, and the distant flicker of torches from the Voidlands, signaling the spread of chaos across the land.
Kaelen clenched his fists, feeling something stir deep within him, something that hadn't been there before. His heart, broken and raw, burned with a fierce determination. This pain would not be the end of him. It could not be. His journey was just beginning.
"I swear to you, Mother," he muttered, the words escaping through clenched teeth, "I will stop him. I will become stronger. I will become the hero I was meant to be."
The journey from Vernis to the capital city of Talisaar took Kaelen several weeks. Each step was heavier than the last, and every shadow felt like it could be a reminder of the monsters that had taken everything from him. Yet, despite the crushing weight of his grief, something drove him forward.
He had no money, no real plan, and no place to call home, but he had one goal: to become strong enough to fight back against the darkness that had destroyed his life.
Upon entering the capital, the bustling streets overwhelmed him. The Talisaar Kingdom was a place of hope, where warriors trained, where mages honed their craft, and where adventurers sought fame and glory. But to Kaelen, it felt like a foreign land. The people here were loud, bustling, laughing, and haggling over goods, and Kaelen found himself lost in the chaos.
"Watch where you're going, outsider!" a voice shouted, and suddenly, Kaelen found himself shoved to the ground by a soldier. The soldier's armor gleamed in the sunlight, but his face held nothing but disdain.
"Sorry," Kaelen mumbled, pulling himself to his feet, but the soldier was already walking away, not even sparing him a second glance. The coldness of the encounter stung more than Kaelen was willing to admit. He wasn't welcome here. He wasn't even a person to them.
Kaelen stumbled forward, trying to shake off the insult. His eyes darted across the busy marketplace, taking in the sights of foreign spices, rare fabrics, and weapons that gleamed with craftsmanship. His fingers itched to touch them, but he had nothing—nothing but his own will to survive.
In a small square at the heart of the city, Kaelen came across a scene that caught his attention. A young woman—no older than him—was sparring against a group of combatants. The crowd had gathered around, and Kaelen found himself drawn to her. She was moving like a storm, her blade flashing in the sunlight, deflecting and countering with a speed that seemed to defy the laws of nature.
Her stance was flawless. Her movements were fluid and precise. The soldiers she faced looked like they were struggling just to keep up. She disarmed one opponent with a swift strike and knocked another to the ground with a spinning kick, leaving them gasping for air. There was no hesitation in her movements—only grace and deadly accuracy.
Kaelen stood rooted to the spot, awe spreading through him like wildfire. Here was someone who moved with purpose, someone who had mastered the art of combat. She was… magnificent. He could feel his heart beating faster, not out of fear, but of inspiration.
The sparring ended, and the group of soldiers—defeated but still in high spirits—took their leave, laughing amongst themselves. The young woman turned to face the small crowd that had gathered, her eyes scanning the onlookers before landing on Kaelen. There was a flicker of recognition in her gaze, and then her lips curled into a faint smile.
"You're new around here, aren't you?" she asked, her voice carrying a melodic, yet commanding tone.
Kaelen, startled by the direct attention, quickly bowed his head. "I—I'm just passing through. I… I was hoping to find training. To become stronger."
Her smile grew a little wider. "You're looking in the right place. Talisaar Academy takes in those who show promise. But," she said, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied him, "there's a difference between wanting to be strong and actually being willing to put in the work. Not everyone makes it."
Kaelen nodded, feeling the weight of her words. He didn't know what this place would hold for him, but it was the only chance he had. "I'll do whatever it takes."
The woman's eyes softened for a moment, and she stepped closer. "Name's Elara, by the way. If you want to make it here, you'll need a lot more than just determination. But don't worry—if you're serious, I'll teach you the basics."
Kaelen nodded eagerly. Elara's words felt like a lifeline. If he could learn from someone like her, if he could train and grow, perhaps he could finally start making a difference in this world.
"Thank you," he said, a quiet determination settling over him. "I'll make sure not to waste your time."
As Kaelen followed Elara toward the Talisaar Academy, he couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning. There would be trials ahead—physical, emotional, and mental. And no doubt, his path would cross with others who would challenge him, push him, and perhaps even test his resolve.
But Kaelen was ready. His heart burned with the promise of revenge against the one who had torn his world apart. And if the people of this city would not welcome him, he would carve his place here with his own strength.
With Elara as a guide and the weight of his past pushing him forward, Kaelen's journey into the unknown was just beginning. The world was vast, full of dark forces and dangerous foes, but in the heart of Talisaar, amid the ancient spires of its academy, Kaelen was about to take the first step toward becoming the hero he always dreamed of.
And the name Malgareth? The name that had haunted his thoughts and dreams for so long? It would be burned into his memory forever. He would find a way to stop Malgareth. He swore it on the graves of his family.