The morning sun cast a golden glow over the quiet village of Rellwyn. Chickens clucked in the distance, farmers guided their cattle across the dirt paths, and the scent of freshly baked bread drifted through the air. Life here was simple, peaceful—far removed from the chaos of war.


    Inside a modest wooden home, a small child stood on unsteady legs.


    Vael Atrius, now three years old, stared at the wooden floor beneath him, his tiny hands clenched into fists as he tried to balance himself. For the first time, he was going to walk.


    "Come on, Vael."


    A woman’s gentle voice called to him. Elara, the woman he knew as his mother, sat a few steps away, her arms open with a warm smile. Her dark hair framed her kind face, and her emerald-green eyes held an affection he had always known.


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Beside her, a tall man stood with his arms crossed. Soren, the man he called father, watched with quiet intensity. His sharp features softened as he gave a slight nod. "You can do it."


    Vael lifted his foot—hesitated—then took a shaky step forward.


    His little legs wobbled. His body swayed. But he kept going.


    One step.


    Another.


    And then—he stumbled forward, right into Elara’s arms.


    She laughed softly as she caught him, pulling him close. "You did it, my little warrior."


    Soren chuckled, ruffling the boy’s messy black hair. "Took longer than I expected. He’s stubborn, but not very graceful."


    Elara shot him a glare. "He''s three."


    Vael, not fully understanding their words, simply clung to his mother’s warmth.


    To him, this was home.


    A Quiet Life in Rellwyn


    Rellwyn was a place where everyone knew each other. Vael’s parents were respected in the village, known as hard-working and kind people. Elara helped the other women with cooking and weaving. Soren worked as a hunter, bringing back game from the forest.


    The other villagers would often smile at Vael as he toddled past, ruffling his hair. "Strong kid," they''d say. "Takes after his father."


    He didn’t know why, but sometimes, he noticed something strange about his parents. They moved differently, as if they could sense things before they happened. They never seemed surprised by anything. And at night, when they thought he was asleep, he sometimes heard them whispering in hushed voices.


    But Vael was too young to understand.


    To him, they were just Mother and Father.


    And in this small, quiet village, he was just a boy taking his first steps into the world.