In ancient times, seven comets blazed through the skies, seven spirits of divine light.
When they hit the red planet, the world was awakened: seas were formed, forests sprouted, and life breathed.
First, the dragons arrived, their fire hot enough to melt mountains.
Next came the monsters, sea creatures, humanity, and then the demons.
For ages without count, they lived in the favor of the seven spirits, surrounded by their beneficence.
But peace, delicate as glass, broke at once.
Ambition seized mortal hearts. Humans, dragons, and demons alike coveted the strength of the spirits and extended hands to take it.
But before the gods, they were mere dust.
Betrayed and hurt, the spirits left the world, abandoning seven crowns-
five true, one false, and one forever lost.
The crowns ignited endless wars, birthing kingdoms and empires, but sundering the bond that once united all life.
And thus, the age of men and monsters began-
an age of crowns, conquest, and the echoes of gods. The end.
"Mom, you've already told me this story a million times already."
The flames crackled gently, casting its golden light over the small cottage. Paco rocked back in his chair, a plate of half-consumed pastries sitting on his knees. His mother smiled from the other side of the room, folding the final of the freshly laundered robes.
"And you never recall the ending," she joked, shaking her head. "That's why I keep telling it."
Paco puffed out his cheeks. "It's always the same way! The spirits depart, everyone weeps, and voila-wars, crowns, ruin. Not exactly bedtime fare, Mom."
"Bedtime stories aren't intended to put you to sleep," she replied, putting a hand to his tousled hair. "They're intended to make you dream."
Paco rolled his eyes, but couldn't help grinning. "You and your strange philosophy again."
"Go on, Paco. Sleep," she said, her voice melting a little. "And I'll get you more presents when I can."
"But, mooommm, I don't wanna sleep!"
She pretended to glare. "If you don't, the Demon King will come."
Paco stood still. "Eeeeh?! Threatening a kid? That's ethically dubious!"
She suppressed a giggle. "Then sleep, you little philosopher.
He pouted, grumbling, "I'll sue you someday," as he hobbled off to his tiny room.
His mother followed him out of sight with a smile that lingered just a shade too long. As the door closed, she let out a breath, looking at the slight dark glimmer under her fingers - the residue of the magic she'd applied to conceal the pilfered pastries.
"Sleep tight, my lad," she whispered. "The world's nicer in dreams."
The Next Morning
"Paco! Wake up already!"
Lila's voice echoed from the kitchen, followed by the faint sizzle of eggs and the pop of toasting bread on a small iron stove, one heated by a lazy, fiery slime sitting underneath it like a living coal.
No response.
She sighed, louder this time. "Paco! You're going to be late again!"
Still nothing but the faint groan of a shifting blanket.
Lila huffed out. "Now you've done it," she grumbled, storming to the room directly next to the kitchen. The door burst open.
Blanket = missing.
Pillow = taken.
Peace = shattered.
"Paco, I've called you three times already! Why won't you get up!?" she shook him like a rattle.
A muffled voice poked out from under the pillow.
"Mmmph… I was awake the first time. My soul just didn't respawn yet…"
Lila scrunched her face. "Try respawning in front of the water bucket then."
She called out as she rushed to the kitchen, the aroma of toasted bread already wafting through the air.
"Paco, wash your face in the bathroom and don't forget to bring the milk!"
"Okay, Mom!" he answered, his voice still a bit groggy.
He dragged himself off the bed, hair looking like a bird's nest, and staggered toward the washroom.
Outside, the sun rose early, sneaking through the slats of their wooden shutters to etch thin golden lines across the room. Paco splashed water on his face and let out a sigh - the kind of sigh that only someone who was woken too early could give.
Their house stood on the border of a silent forest, a small cottage with moss growing up the walls and a slanted chimney sending out wisps of smoke. In the distance, a soft chime from the kingdom's bell tower was heard ringing through the valley.
As Paco ventured out, a soft wind caressed his hair. He picked up the rusty metal pail that hung near the door and began walking to the adjacent farm, where he bought milk from an elderly woman who addressed him as "Whiskers."
"Good morning, Whiskers!" a neighbor greeted.
"Its Paco and good morning granny" he waved back, still half asleep.
The road was soggy from the rain last night, but Paco didn't care. It was just another quiet morning, after all.
"One crate of milk," Paco handed out the pail.
The old lady took it by weight and handed it across. "That'll be fifty coppers."
Paco raked his hand through his hair. "Put it on the tab, like usual. Incidentally, where's Lina?"
"Oh, her?" the old lady said with a smile. "She actually went to become an adventurer. And, happily enough, she got ranked in the advanced level immediately! I'm so proud of my daughter."
Paco froze, milk pail halfway to his shoulder. "What!! She's like… only seventeen and she-what!?"
The old lady chuckled, handing him a small notebook to mark the tab. "Kids these days, huh? Always surprising you."
Paco muttered under his breath as he started walking back home, shaking his head in disbelief. "advanced rank… Lina's impossible…"
"I'm like fifteen and I'm not even able to join… and she got ranked up in advanced? Huh, that's discrimination. I'll see her at the guild," Paco muttered to himself as he waved goodbye to the old lady.
He plodded back home, pail in hand, and noticed his mother already dressed in her maid uniform, on her way out to the castle where she worked as a cleaning maid. She wasn't the most professional, but at least bills were getting paid.
"Paco, eat your breakfast! It's still hot. And pour the milk into the pot, okay, dear?" she said, giving him a quick kiss on his forehead.
"Alright, Mom. Bye bye… oh, and by the way, if you happen to bump into Lina, tell her hi for me, okay?"
"Alright. alright. And don't waste the crusts! Bread's become so costly nowadays," she said, nodding with a grin.
Paco went back into the kitchen, his hand rubbing his stomach. The breakfast was a nice, cozy affair – eggs, toasted bread, and a drizzle of honey. He devoured it, the crusts left neatly on the side of the plate, forgetful of his mother's advice.
He looked about the kitchen after a bit. The shelves weren't filled to the brim. Veggies were meager, and the cupboard consisted of some stale grains and herbs besides.
"Looks like I'll have to go shopping," Paco muttered, grabbing a small woven basket from the counter.
Before heading out, he paused and smirked. He pressed his cat ears flat against his head and looped them into a makeshift belt, hiding them from view. With a quick glance in the mirror, he adjusted his dark, slightly messy hair. His cat-eyes sparkled amber in the sunlight, and the subtle whisker scars on his cheeks quivered as he pondered the market. His white-tipped tail lashed behind him, tucked slyly beneath his belt.
"Can't have folks gawking all over again… or worse, calling me 'half-blood' before I even get out the door," he whispered to himself.
Basket in hand, Paco went out, the sun rising off the dew-drenched cobblestones. He strode through the village, greeting a few people he recognized, taking care to keep his ears covered under the belt.
As he walked past the market square, the aroma of fresh vegetables, freshly baked bread, and bubbling stews greated him. He clutched the basket a little tighter, already thinking about taking the shortest path through the stalls to obtain all he required before returning home.