The morning sun filtered through the wooden slats of the cabin, casting golden streaks across the packed dirt floor. The air carried the gentle murmur of a nearby river and the warm, yeasty aroma of freshly baked bread. Kael stirred from sleep, his calloused hands brushing the rough blanket. The spot beside him, where his wife Aria usually slept, was empty—she'd risen early to prepare breakfast.
A child's laughter, bright and carefree, snapped him fully awake. It came from beyond the closed bedroom door, where his daughter Elin played in the main room, likely with her rag dolls. For a fleeting moment, Kael forgot the world he belonged to—the bloodshed, the grueling work, the stern faces that demanded his focus. In those precious seconds, where he was not part of the organization. He was just a father, a husband, a man with a family to protect.
He rose slowly, his joints stiff from years of labor, and stepped into the main room. Elin's smile greeted him, her gray eyes—his eyes—sparkling with innocence as she clutched a doll, its patched fabric worn from love. That smile, Kael thought, was why he endured. Every crate hauled, every wound taken, every risk faced—it was all for her, so she could laugh without fear in a world that had shown him little mercy.
"Kael, breakfast's ready. sit I bring it to the table in a second," Aria called from the kitchen, her voice warm, pulling him back to the present. He grinned, crossing the room to scoop Elin onto his shoulders. Her giggles filled the air as she wrapped her small arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.
"Dada you're awake! We're gonna play all day, right?" she asked, her voice brimming with hope, her eyes wide with the untainted trust of a child.
"Of course, my princess. All day, but first, we eat," Kael said, settling her into her high wooden chair, its edges smoothed by his own hands. He sat, grabbing the newspaper from the table, its ink smudged but legible. As he skimmed the headlines—tales of distant pirate raids and Marine crackdowns—his mind wandered to how much had changed in the past year.
Life had been a grind before the red tide came. From dawn to dusk, Kael had toiled—hauling cargo, cleaning taverns, anything to put food on the table for Aria and Elin. His childhood had been a brutal lesson in loss. His father, a debtor, was killed by loan sharks when Kael was a boy, leaving him and his mother to fend for themselves.
She'd fought to keep him alive, scavenging and sewing late into the night, but sickness claimed her when he was 12. There were no doctors on Brackmor, no medicine for the poor. The sick withered, died, and were burned to prevent disease from spreading. Kael could still smell the acrid smoke of his mother's pyre, her ashes scattered to the wind, no grave to mark her passing.
Grief had driven him to the edge. He'd tried to end it—leaping into the sea, letting the waves pull him under, his lungs burning as water filled them. But something always stopped him—a stray current, a fisherman's net, a stubborn spark of will he couldn't name. Maybe it was his mother's strength, her refusal to let him give up. So he fought on, taking any job: washing dishes, sweeping tavern floors, hauling garbage through Brackmor's muddy streets. The beli was barely enough to survive, but it fueled him, kept him moving forward.
At 18, a stroke of luck changed his path. A merchant ship, battered by a storm, washed up on Brackmor—an island so obscure it barely appeared on major maps. Kael guided the merchants, showing them the village's meager markets and helping them chop timber to repair their ship. Their leader, a grizzled man with kind eyes, gifted Kael a book on navigation as thanks. The catch? Kael couldn't read. The book sat untouched, a mocking reminder of his limits, until years later when he met Aria.
She was 18, working in a tavern where Kael ate his sparse meals, her emerald-green hair catching the sunlight, her porcelain skin and amber eyes drawing every man's gaze. Suitors lined up, some proposing marriage, others offering less honorable things, but Aria turned them all away with a warm, unshakable smile. That smile, Kael realized, was her true beauty—it radiated peace, a warmth that made the world feel less cruel. He never dared confess his feelings, certain she was too good for a scrappy laborer like him. Instead, he became her friend, helping clean the tavern after closing in exchange for extra bread, their late-night talks forging a quiet bond.
When he learned Aria loved reading and writing at dawn, he showed her the merchant's book. Instead of reading it to him, she taught him to read and write, her patience endless as he stumbled through letters. Through her, he learned navigation—the sea's signals, the warnings of storms and whirlpools. Armed with this skill, he joined an old fisherman, earning a living hauling nets under the man's wary eye. Over time, the old man softened, sharing stories of the sea, teaching Kael to sail until he could navigate Brackmor's treacherous coasts blindfolded.
But one night changed everything. Arriving late to Aria's tavern, Kael found it in ruins—tables overturned, bottles shattered, the air thick with the stench of spilled rum. Inside, two men were assaulting Aria, her cries muffled. Rage consumed him, a red haze blinding his senses. He attacked, his fists and a broken chair leaving the men dead on the floor, their blood pooling on the splintered wood. Kael, shaking and blood-soaked, cleaned Aria, carrying her to safety and dumping the bodies in the sea to protect her from blame. The tavern owner never knew.
The next day, Aria woke, her eyes hollow with trauma. She tried to end her life, her hands trembling as she reached for a knife, but Kael stopped her, holding her as she screamed and struck him, her fists pounding his chest until she collapsed, sobbing in his arms. He wept silently, his heart breaking for her pain. Using every beli he'd saved, he bought a small cabin by the river, a sanctuary where Aria could heal away from leering eyes. The forest's quiet and the river's gentle flow worked their magic. Months later, to their relief, Aria wasn't pregnant from the attack, and slowly, she began to reclaim her light.
Time moved on, and their bond deepened. One dawn, unable to hold back, they confessed their love, their union a promise to face the world together. A year later, Aria gave birth to Elin, a perfect blend of her mother's beauty and Kael's gray eyes. Life wasn't easy, but it was theirs—until a year ago, when whispers of a high-paying job reached Kael's ears. Desperate to give Elin the life he'd never had, he joined the job to earn more money.
His first mission was a revelation. The leader, a boy no older than 10 named Rabosce Olbap, guided them through the swamp's dangers to collect Crimson Flowers. Kael listened, knowing better than to ignore experience, no matter how young. He met Liro and Toro, two recruits who became like brothers to him, their camaraderie easing the grueling work. Together, they hauled crates to Olbap, who paid generously—enough to repair the cabin, buy toys for Elin, and gifts for Aria. Olbap had given Kael everything he'd dreamed of: stability, purpose, a future for his family.
The clink of a plate on the table snapped Kael from his thoughts. Aria's smile, as radiant as ever, met his gaze, Elin giggling beside her, her cheeks puffed out in a playful pout.
"Kael, you were lost in thought. Everything okay?" Aria asked, her voice soft but searching.
"Dada, I was talking to you, and you ignored me!" Elin huffed, crossing her arms.
Kael laughed, ruffling her hair. "Sorry, haha. Just thinking about nothing important. Let's thank the food and eat." The family dug into their humble breakfast—bread, eggs, boiled roots, coffee and orange juice for Elin — laughing and talking as the morning unfolded. Kael kept his promise, spending the day playing with Elin, chasing her through the meadow until she collapsed, exhausted and happy, in her bed by dusk.
As night fell, Kael sat outside, a glass of water in hand, the river's soft rush calming his mind. The cabin door creaked, and Aria stepped out, her green hair glinting in the moonlight. She settled onto his lap, her warmth grounding him. "What's on your mind? You know you can't hide from me," she said, her tone gentle but firm.
"Can't fool you, can I?" Kael said, meeting her amber eyes.
"No," she replied, her gaze steady.
"I was thinking about everything we've been through to get here—having Elin, giving her the life I never had," Kael said, his voice low. "But I'm scared, Aria. This job with the organization — it's not clean. You know the risks. Since this year, we've been fighting other organizations, dodging attacks. What if something happens to me?"
Aria's hand tightened on his. "Kael, when you're home, this place is our sanctuary. Don't bring that world here."
"I know," he said, exhaling. "That's why I talked to Olbap. Asked for a week off to be with you and Elin."
Her eyes widened. "And he agreed?"
"At first, I thought he'd say no. But he told me to enjoy it—gave me a bonus, too. Said the most important thing is cherishing what we have, living day by day."
Aria smiled, resting her head on his shoulder. They sat in silence, the river's flow a reminder of time's relentless march. Life was cruel, fleeting — Kael knew it better than most. The Red tide wars, the swamp's dangers, the enemies circling Brackmor—they could take everything. But in this moment, with Aria's warmth and Elin's laughter echoing in his heart, he felt whole. Time was the one thing no one could control, carrying everyone toward death. All he could do was hold his family close, savor every smile, and fight to keep them safe before Death come at his door and was his time to go.
End of the chapter.