The first three years of Nyx's life were a blur of sensations, a kaleidoscope of sights, sounds, and smells that slowly began to coalesce into a coherent reality in the heart of Aerthos. The language of the Kiel, a guttural tongue filled with sharp consonants and drawn-out vowels, slowly seeped into his consciousness. It wasn't a deliberate process, but rather an osmosis, a gradual absorption of the sounds that filled his days. His mother's gentle murmurs as she nursed him, his father's booming commands as he trained the warriors, the shaman's chanting during rituals – each contributed to his growing understanding.
He learned their names: Borin, his father, the Chieftain, a figure of imposing strength and unwavering resolve. Elara, his mother, her touch soft yet her spirit unyielding, a respected Shaman of the tribe.
The world outside the yurt, once a confusing jumble of shapes and colors, began to take form. He learned the names of the ancient pines that surrounded their settlement deep within the forest, their branches heavy with snow. He learned the names of the animals that roamed the snowy woods – the hardy elk, the elusive lynx, the wolves whose howls echoed through the night. He learned the taste of roasted venison, the staple of their diet, and the earthy flavor of the root vegetables they managed to cultivate in the sheltered clearings. Breakfast was a simple affair: chunks of dried venison softened in hot water, sometimes supplemented with foraged berries carefully dug out from beneath the snow if the season allowed.
The Kiel tribe was a close-knit community, their lives dictated by the rhythm of the seasons and the constant threat of rival tribes in Aerthos. Gatherings were frequent, celebrations of successful hunts, preparations for war, or simply opportunities to reaffirm their bonds. The air would be filled with the sound of laughter, the thrumming of drums made from stretched reindeer hide, and the haunting melodies of the bone singers, their breath misting in the frigid air. Nyx, still too young to fully participate, would watch from the sidelines, absorbing the energy of the tribe, the sense of shared purpose and unwavering loyalty amidst the endless snow.
Borin and Elara loved him fiercely, each in their own way. Borin, despite his gruff exterior, would often cradle Nyx in his massive arms, his calloused hands surprisingly gentle as he stroked his hair. He would tell Nyx stories of legendary battles fought against other tribes in Aerthos, of heroic deeds performed in the defense of their land, of the sacrifices made to protect the Kiel. Elara, with her innate understanding of magic, would sing ancient lullabies, weaving spells of protection and strength into her melodies. She taught him about the spirits of the forest, the power of the runes etched into the ancient stones, and the importance of respecting the balance of nature, especially in this harsh, snowy landscape.
At three years old, Nyx's speech was still rudimentary, a mixture of babbling and fragmented words, but he could communicate his needs and express his emotions. It was around this time that he met his first friend, a boy named Torvin. Torvin was the son of a warrior, a scrawny but energetic lad with a mop of unruly brown hair and a mischievous glint in his eyes. They communicated through gestures, shared smiles, and the occasional intelligible word, forming a bond that transcended language amidst the snow-covered trees.
One crisp afternoon, as they played near the edge of the village, kicking up plumes of powdery snow, Elara approached them, her expression thoughtful.
"Nyx," she said, her voice soft but clear, "your father and I have been watching you. You are growing strong, but you also possess a… a different kind of awareness, even for one touched by the runes."
Borin, who had been observing them from a distance, his breath misting in the cold air, stepped forward, his bear headdress casting a long shadow on the snow-covered ground. "The shaman says the runes she gave you are working beyond her understanding," he admitted. "You are quick to learn, quick to understand the nuances of this snowy world. But what path will you take, my son, here in Aethros?"
Nyx, barely comprehending the weight of their words, looked from his mother to his father, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Path?" he echoed, his voice small.
Elara knelt down, brushing snow off a fallen log and taking his hands in hers. "In the Kiel tribe, every child must choose their path. Some become warriors, strong and skilled in combat, protectors of our people from the dangers that lurk in these snowy woods. Some become shamans, wielding the power of the runes to heal and defend, to commune with the spirits of Aerthos."
"And some," Borin added, his gaze hardening, "become nothing. A burden to the tribe. We will not allow that to happen to you, Nyx. You have potential, a potential unlike anything I have ever seen. You could be a great warrior, a powerful shaman, or something… else, something the tribes of Aethros has never seen."
Torvin, sensing the seriousness of the moment, stood silently beside Nyx, his eyes wide with curiosity, his boots crunching softly in the snow.
"I… I don't know," Nyx stammered, feeling the weight of their expectations pressing down on him. The memories of his past life, though hazy, stirred within him. He knew what it was like to be weak, to be helpless, to be looked down upon. He didn't want that for himself in this new life. He wanted to be strong, to be respected, to be someone in this snowy forest of Aerthos.
"There is no need to decide now," Elara said, squeezing his hands reassuringly. "You have time to learn, to grow, to discover your own strengths amidst the snow and the trees. But know this, Nyx: whatever path you choose, your father and I will support you. We will guide you, we will protect you, and we will help you become the best version of yourself in this world."
Borin nodded in agreement, his expression softening. "The choice is yours, son. But remember, the Kiel tribe needs strong warriors and wise shamans. The future of our people in Aethros depends on it."
As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the snow-covered ground, Nyx stood between his parents, his mind racing with possibilities. He was Nyx, son of Borin and Elara, a child of the Kiel tribe, blessed by the shaman. And in this moment, he realized that his life, though just beginning, was already filled with purpose. He would find his path, he would prove himself worthy, and he would make his mark on the world of Aerthos, in this snowy forest that was now his home.