Lisa's heart pounded in her chest. She wanted to trust Alfred—his eyes were kind, his hands steady—but Sebrina's last words echoed in her mind: "At all costs."
The truth about the boy… about the darkness in his blood… could never be spoken aloud. Not yet. Not even here.
Alfred leaned closer, his weathered face softened by the glow of the fire. His gaze shifted to the baby, now fast asleep in Lisa's arms. "What's his name?" he asked quietly.
Lisa hesitated. For a moment, she almost faltered. But then she remembered Sebrina's smile, the necklace she had placed around the boy's neck, the hope she had entrusted to him.
"His mother gave him a name before…" Lisa swallowed, forcing her voice steady. "He will be called… Sam."
Alfred repeated the name slowly, as though testing its weight. "Sam." A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "A strong name."
Lisa lowered her eyes to the child. His small chest rose and fell gently, his hand still clutching the silver necklace as if it were a lifeline. To Alfred, he was just a helpless baby. But to Lisa, he was something far more dangerous—and perhaps, far more important.
In that quiet moment, as the storm finally faded outside, two truths took root in her heart:She would protect Sam with her life.And the world could never know what he truly was.
Years slipped by, and the storm of Sam's birth became nothing more than a memory to the world. To the village, he was simply Alfred's ward, a boy with bright eyes and restless energy. But Lisa knew better—each passing day, the truth of his bloodline grew harder to hide.
The silver pendant Sebrina had left him was no longer enough. Once, its faint glow kept the boy's strange power sealed, but now the darkness seeped through, like water breaking a cracked dam.
It began with little things. A game with the other children turned frightening when Sam, startled, shoved another boy—only for the child to be flung so far he crashed into a haystack nearly a mile away. The villagers laughed nervously, chalking it up to some odd trick of strength, but Lisa's heart nearly stopped.
And then came the day in the forge. Alfred had begun teaching Sam the ways of the blacksmith, guiding his hands with hammer and steel. The boy was quick to learn, his strikes steady, his eyes sharp. But when Sam quenched the blade he had forged, a strange, unnatural glow rippled across the metal.
The sword pulsed with a dark aura, shadows curling along its edge like living smoke. The air itself grew heavy, and for an instant, Alfred felt the same chill he had known in battle—standing before the Elethels.
"By the gods…" Alfred whispered, stepping back, his face pale. "What… what is this?"
Sam blinked in confusion, holding up the blade. To him, it felt natural, as though the shadows had simply answered his call.
Lisa, standing at the workshop door, clenched her fists. She had prayed this day would never come—yet here it was. The boy's secret was no longer something that could be contained.
And if the villagers noticed… or worse, if word spread beyond the valley… the world would come for him.
Alfred's eyes stayed locked on the blade, his knuckles white as his hand hovered near the hammer at his side. The air around the sword seemed alive, the dark aura coiling like smoke in the dim light of the forge.
Sam tilted his head, confused. "Is… something wrong, Alfred? I just made it like you showed me."
Before Alfred could speak, Lisa stepped forward, her voice sharp and steady."It's nothing."
Both Alfred and Sam turned to her. Lisa forced a calm smile, though her heart was pounding. "You've been pushing the boy too hard. He's tired, that's all. Strange things happen when magic and exhaustion mix."
Alfred frowned, his eyes flicking back to the sword. "That's no ordinary magic, Lisa. I've seen darkness like that before—on the battlefield. The aura of an Elethel—"
"Enough!" Lisa snapped, louder than she intended. The clamor of her voice made Sam flinch, and she quickly softened, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Sam is just a child. A gifted one, yes, but human. You're letting old scars cloud your judgment, Alfred."
The old blacksmith's jaw tightened. For a long moment, only the crackle of the forge filled the silence. Finally, with a heavy sigh, Alfred muttered, "Maybe you're right. Maybe I've been haunted too long."
He turned back to his work, but doubt lingered in his eyes.
Lisa crouched beside Sam, brushing soot from his cheek. "Why don't you go wash up?" she said gently.
The boy nodded, setting the strange blade aside before running off.
Only when he was gone did Lisa allow the weight of her fear to show. She picked up the sword herself, the dark aura licking at her skin. Her voice dropped to a whisper:
"Sebrina… your son's power is growing. And soon… I may not be able to hide it any longer."
That night, when the village slept and only the crickets sang in the dark, Lisa lit a single lantern in the clearing behind Alfred's forge. Sam stood before her, the pendant glinting faintly at his chest, his expression uncertain.
"Why are we out here, Lisa?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.
Lisa looked at him with a mixture of love and fear. She had hidden his truth for years, praying it would never surface. But now the shadows were no longer something she could suppress—they needed to be controlled.
"You're… different, Sam," she said softly, kneeling to his level. "You were born with a gift no one else in this world has. A dangerous one. If you don't learn to control it, it will control you."
Sam frowned, glancing down. "You mean… the things that happen when I get angry? Or scared?"
Lisa nodded. "Yes. The shadows inside you. They respond to your emotions, your will. If you lose control, they will lash out. You must learn to bend them, before they consume you—or before others see what you are."
She placed her hand gently over his, guiding him. "Close your eyes. Breathe. Feel the shadows, but don't fight them. Guide them."
Hesitant, Sam obeyed. The air grew colder as faint wisps of darkness curled from his skin, flickering like black smoke. They writhed at first, wild and untamed—but under Lisa's steady voice, they slowed, circling him like silent guardians.
Sam opened his eyes, startled. "I… did that?"
Lisa smiled faintly, though worry lingered in her gaze. "Yes. And one day, you'll do far greater things. But remember this, Sam: your power is not for hurting. It's for protecting. Always."
The boy nodded, gripping the pendant at his chest. But deep inside, he wondered: if this darkness was meant for protection, why did it feel so… hungry?
And as the lantern's light flickered, Lisa whispered to herself, "May the gods forgive me… for teaching him what the world must never know."