So… you really opened Chapter One?
You saw the title. You saw the synopsis. That was your warning label. But no, here you are. Fine. Don't blame me.
This fantasy tale begins in Ravenshade, a little quiet village—well, not so quiet, thanks to some minor nobles living as if they owned it. And, obviously, we start with a farm boy. Of course he's a farm boy. What else did you expect?
He was a seventeen-year-old boy with bright blue eyes and just-wavy-enough brown hair that somehow looked more salon than it should for someone living on a farm. Don't ask me how he got that hair—it's just how it is with male protagonists—so female readers can have a crush on them and male readers can long to be them. If you think that sounds unrealistic, you're in fact right. Welcome to this book. Leave now while you still can.
His name was Kael. Hah! Yes, Kael. The same name every trope author uses. Probably because it sounds handsome, or maybe just what AI usually suggests. That officially lands this novel on Author Light's "Not to Read" list. She really hates that name, so I'm expecting to never see her wandering in here. Please tell me if she does, though. (Winks).
Splash! Kael fell into shallow water, his neat brown hair wet and his clothes soaked with water and mud. The three noble brats laughed from the side of the river. "Hey, farmboy! Watch your hair!" one yelled.
Kael wiped muddy water from his eyes and bit his lips, making him look astonishingly handsome even in this awkward, humiliating position. He stood to his feet—not to retaliate—but the older noble boy misinterpreted it, thinking he was about to fight back. The noble pushed him again, sending him skidding back into the riverbank.
"Do not dare to stand, farmboy! Or you'll be sorry," the brat warned.
Kael let half of his face sink into the muddy water, just to avoid more trouble and somehow appease these three noble idiots.
This was his life: a seventeen-year-old with hair too perfect for a farm, getting beaten up by entitled noble kids. Classic fantasy protagonist stuff.
Then again, you brought this on him! Poor Kael. By this time, I think you already know how cruel this story is going to be for him, so you can stop scrolling now.
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Still scrolling, huh?
So here we go. When the laughter and continuous mocking of the three brats faded, Kael stood, wiping mud all over himself and then he squeezed his clothes dry. Still, a faint smile tugged at his lips.
Ain't that stupid? He was soaked in mud, dignity buried in the riverbank, and still managed to smile. Well, the cruel universe had decided that for every breath he takes, a noble brat must find a new way to humiliate him. Oh, and let's not forget: this is exactly how every story like this begins. The farm boy suffers, the readers sigh, the villains laugh, and the author gets off on dramatic irony. Truly, a masterpiece of suffering.
But here's the kicker. Kael doesn't even get a hint of revenge—thanks to his pure heart—he just stood there, wet, and yet somehow photogenic, because, of course, he has to be. And you—yes, you, scrolling further despite all warnings—get to watch every agonizing, trope-filled second. Enjoy. (Rolled-eyes).
With a groan that sounded pitiful, Kael walked toward the village market, part of his weekly errands for Uncle Ben, because apparently, getting beaten was no excuse to skip chores.
The sky had turned grey when Kael reached the farm's outskirts. He shifted the sack of supplies from one shoulder to another, trying to ease the strain on his shoulder. The load was heavy, but whatever was in there, he probably could have gotten most of it from the farm, right? But no, this was so he could leave home and witness what was about to happen.
He frowned and felt his heart pounding in his chest, seeing their farm's broken fences and smoke rising from their homestead. He dropped the sack and ran.
"Uncle Ben!" he shouted.
Oh no! What happened to Uncle Ben? Seems like this is a cue for a dramatic, life-changing tragedy. Please stop scrolling—we might trigger a spider-related metaphor.
So, where are we? Oh yes, Kael ran toward their homestead, hearing noises and eerie hisses. He pulled the door open, and his eyes widened. Three tall, hooded creatures with long blades surrounded Uncle Ben.
"Kael, run!" Uncle Ben called out, seeing him by the door.
Well, of course, our heroic farmboy didn't run. He spotted a winnowing fork hanging by the wall and quickly pulled it as the black figures turned toward him, hissing. Their eyes glowed menacingly, as if they wanted to say, "We want the ring! You know, the one from the famous book nobody reads carefully."
Kael gripped the winnowing fork like it was a sword. Not that he had any idea how to actually use it. The nearest wraith lunged, long blade slicing through the air, and Kael managed a heroic—but completely useless—swipe. The fork clattered out of his hands.
Well, that was embarrassing. Notice how our farmboy's first move in combat is guaranteed to fail. Classic.
Before Kael could pick it up, one of the shadowy figures advanced. The old man lunged to push Kael out of the way, shoving him toward safety. Unfortunately, the wraith was faster. A sharp stab grazed Uncle Ben's side, and he stumbled back, grimacing.
Kael's stomach twisted. Oh yes, reader, now we're getting to the tragic part. You knew this was coming the moment you scrolled past the first page, didn't you?
The fork lay just out of reach. Kael lunged, trying to grab it again, but the wraith circled, every heroic instinct he didn't have told him to run. But of course again, he didn't.
That's when wind whistled past his ear.
Woosh, woosh, woosh.
His gaze shifted to the shadowy figures, each one with an arrow embedded in their concealed face, shrieking eerily. Then the three figures lunged towards the window, splintering wooden frames and they disappeared into the shadows.
Kael ran toward Uncle Ben lying on the floor. Blood was seeping on his clothes. Because, obviously, the kindly uncle has to die. Don't cry yet, reader, we've barely started.
"Uncle Ben," Kael said, kneeling beside him and holding his hand.
"Ka… Kael," Uncle Ben rasped, struggling to speak. "There is… something I've been meaning to tell you… for a long time. But… I never found the right moment… or the right words."
Oh boy! Here comes the dying with a long farewell.
Kael frowned. "Uncle Ben… just tell me. What is it?"
Uncle Ben coughed, wincing. "I should have told you years ago. Maybe… when you were still a boy learning… when life seemed simpler. But I didn't. I… I wasn't ready. I… I didn't know how."
Kael's heart pounded. "Uncle Ben…"
"I… I'm not… your uncle," Uncle Ben said slowly, testing the words on his tongue. "I… found you long ago, and I promised your parents I would protect you. That's… that's why I never… I never told you."
Kael's mouth went dry. "You mean—?"
Uncle Ben's eyes flickered weakly. "Yes… we're not related by blood… but I… I've loved you as if you were. Always. I wanted… to say more… but the words… they never came… and now…" His hand fell slack.
Hey, Uncle Ben, you've already spoken a lot here. If you went straight to the point, you might have already given our hero the reveal. Well…
He coughed one last time, and his eyes closed.
There, by continuing, you pour the tragic moments onto poor Kael.
Now, I want to warn you. This is a magical world, and words are powerful. So don't you ever comment on what you want to happen, because it might happen. Please, just don't! And no power stones, please! They might summon the vilest evil and most powerful villains ever in the history of fantasy!
And since you've reached the end of Chapter One. Stop Kael's agony. Close this book now. Remove this book from your collection if you have added to. Put the book down. The farmboy has more tragedy ahead… but maybe, just maybe, a heroic twist later.