"Edran… Edran"
A sharp voice pierced through the quiet.
He stirred, eyes opening slowly as sunlight warmed his face. A gentle breeze brushed his cheeks, carrying the scent of wheat and wildflowers.
Then—
"EDRAN! WAKE UP!"
He flinched, jolting up. His vision cleared just in time to see his little sister standing over him.
"Finally! You were drooling on the harvest," Daina said with a grin and giggles.
"Ouch—Daina! Why yell in my face like that?" Edran groaned, rubbing his ears.
"That really rang through my head."
"I was trying to wake you for aaages! Were you dreaming about dragons again? Or did you lose another duel with a bee?" Daina asked, hands on her hips, tilting her head.
Edran snorted, brushing wheat off his tunic as he grabbed his chipped wooden sword. He gave it a lazy swing.
"Pfft. naah! I was fighting Sky Serpents this time."
"Sky Serpents?" she repeated, raising a brow.
He stood tall and puffed out his chest. "Yep! I followed them all the way to Shiruba's secret lair. I almost found it—almost—but then, outta nowhere, WHOOSH! A giant wind from the north slammed into me! My soldier instincts kicked in, so I took cover. Tactical retreat."
"In the wheat?" she grinned.
"Aha!. In the wheat. It was part of the mission!" he insisted, pointing his sword.
"You fell asleep," she giggled. "Again. Face-first. Like a lump."
Edran sighed, puffing his cheeks. "Even a soldier needs rest."
"You're not a soldier," Daina shot back with a laugh. "You're ten. And your sword's made of firewood."
He stood tall and raised the sword like a knight. "Not for long! I'll train, get stronger, become a real soldier, and march north to find Shiruba! Maybe I'll ride on his back too!"
He took off before she could answer, charging down the dirt path between the tall grain.
"Edran! HEY!! wait for me!" Daina shouted, sprinting after him, clutching a wildflower.
They ran along a dirt path that cut through the wheat fields of Vaelridge, a quiet village tucked in the southern region of Skyland, called Firya, a land still healing, where old memories lay buried deeper than roots.
But for young Edran, this was the edge of the world.
A ten-year-old with dreams far too big for the village that raised him.
His copper-brown hair flew in the wind as he charged ahead, swinging his wooden sword high, eyes wide with adventure.
Daina chased behind, clutching her wildflower, her braids bouncing, bare feet thudding the dirt.
"Hey, Edran! Fighting sky serpents again?" she called between gasps.
He glanced back with a grin and swung through the air. "Nope, practicing my special move. The Sky Breaker!"
"Sky Breaker? Why would you break the sky?" Daina laughed.
"To open it. Maybe Shiruba's hiding up there!"
"You're weird!" she giggled. "But if you do find him, tell him Mama made stew."
"It's not weird if you believe it," he shrugged.
Their laughter echoed between the stalks of gold as they raced forward, joy carrying them like the wind.
Then—
THUM. THUM.
A horn sounded from the road.
"The soldiers!" Edran shouted, grabbing Daina's hand as he dashed toward the road.
They slipped through the wheat and climbed a small ridge, the dry grass crunching under their feet. The moment they reached the top, a low rumble rolled through the ground.
Thum-thum. Thum-thum.
The sound of galloping hooves. A sound that Edran could feel resonating throught his whole body.
Down the road came a long line of mounted knights, their horses powerful and tall, cloaks snapping behind them like banners. Dust swirled up in golden clouds around them, kicked up with every pounding hoof. The sun flashed across polished armor, blinding in places.
"Whoa…" Edran's jaw dropped.
"They look so big…" Daina leaned against him, wide-eyed.
Edran's eyes sparkled. "One day Daina, I'll wear that armor. I'll protect Firya from everything, The dragonkin, Sylvankin, and even Shadows!"
She gave him a crooked smile. "And I'll sing when you come back, so the stars know it's safe again."
They stood there for a while, side by side, watching until the last rider vanished down the road. The dust settled slowly behind them, but the excitement stayed, buzzing in their hearts like fire.
Daina squinted at the horizon. "The sun's almost down…"
Edran blinked, as if waking from a dream.
"Mama's gonna be mad if we're late again," she said, tugging his sleeve.
"You know she doesn't like cold soup."
"Then we better hurry!" Edran smirked, eyes gleaming.
He turned, stepping back once.
"I'll race ya! Last one home is a slimy Glowtoad!"
"Hey — HEY! Not fair, Edran!!" Daina yelled, sprinting after him.
Their laughter echoed across the wheat as they tore down the path as golden light washed over them in the last stretch of day.
—
Edran flung the door open, nearly tripping on the threshold. His chest heaved as he gasped for air, a wide grin stretched across his flushed face. Bits of wheat clung to his hair like tiny battle medals, and his muddy footprints tracked across the floor.
"I'm first! We're not late!"
"Not fair! You got a head start!" Daina stormed in after him, breathless and fuming.
Edran didn't look back, he just raised both arms like a champion. "Still counts!"
"That's cheating!" she snapped, crossing her arms.
Their mother glanced over from the hearth, brow raised. "Mhm. And now you've dragged half the field in with you."
"Sorry, Mama," they both muttered in unison, then exchanged grins.
Their father chuckled from his stool near the fire, whetstone in hand, sharpening an old blade. "Next time, little soldier, wait for the count."
"A real soldier never waits." Edran grinned.
Their mother stirred the pot, shaking her head with a smile. "And a clever one knows when to wash up before the stew gets cold."
"You two, look at yourselves. Go rinse off. I'm not scraping mud off the floor again."
"But Mama—" Daina started, but froze at the look she got.
"Now," their mother said, a touch firmer, though still with that gentle smile.
Edran darted toward the back room, tugging his shirt over his head. "First one to wash gets the bigger potato!"
"You already have the bigger feet!" Daina shouted, chasing after him.
Their laughter echoed through the cottage as they disappeared down the hall. The fire popped gently in the hearth, casting flickers of gold across the worn beams and wool-covered chairs. The scent of herbs, roasted root vegetables, and hay lingered in the warm air. It wasn't a grand home, but it was full of life.
Soon, the children returned, cheeks flushed from scrubbing, hair still damp in places. They scrambled into their usual spots, the smell of stew already pulling them toward the table. Their mother moved between them and the hearth, ladling the stew with the same quiet rhythm as her hum, an old tune that had rocked them to sleep since before they could walk.
As the last bowl was set down, steam curling into the warm air, Daina leaned by the window, arms tucked close, eyes lifted to the darkening sky. A few stars blinked awake, faint but steady.
"Papa," she whispered, not turning from the glass. "Can I sing the Numa tonight?"
Her father looked over from the hearth, tired eyes softened. "Of course, little songbird. The stars are listening."
She stepped forward, hands clasped over her chest, and took a breath. Then her voice filled the room—not loud, not perfect, but honest and full of heart.
O stars above the endless sky,
Whisper where the rivers lie,
Carry dreams through silver air,
And guard the ones I hold most fair.
In fields of gold and forest deep,
Where children laugh and flowers sleep,
I'll sing until the darkness fades,
And light shall bloom in shadow's shade.
The room fell still. Even the fire quieted, as if leaning in to listen.
When Daina opened her eyes, her cheeks were glowing, and she glanced down, fidgeting with her fingers.
"You sing better than the wind chimes." Edran nudged her gently with his elbow.
"That's not even a compliment." Daina snorted.
"It is when you live next to a wheat field," he grinned.
Their father chuckled from his chair "He's got a point. That was lovely, Daina."
Their mother wiped her hands on her apron and turned from the sink with a soft smile. "Enough for tonight. You'll wake the stars if you keep that up."
Daina gave a sleepy giggle, leaning against Edran's side.
"Alright, you two, bed time," their mother said, walking over and tousling Edran's hair. "Go on before I decide to make you scrub dishes instead."
"Ugh, fine," Edran groaned, but he was already standing.
Daina hopped off the stool and yawned. "Goodnight, Mama. Night, Papa."
"Sleep tight, little ones," their father said, the whetstone resting now in his hand.
As the two shuffled off toward their shared room, the last warmth of supper and laughter still lingered in the air, wrapping around them like a blanket.
—
Later that night, Edran lay flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling beams.
Daina was curled beside him, snoring lightly, a soft puff with each breath. It made him smile, even though sleep refused to come. Her lullaby still echoed in his head.
Then—
Thud.
Deep. Dull. Off.
Edran tensed. Was that... outside?
THUD. closer this time. He sat up, heart thumping hard in his ears.
Then—
A sharp scream.
He scrambled upright. "Daina, hey, wake up," he whispered harshly, shaking her shoulder. "Get up. Something's wrong."
She stirred, blinking at him. "What—"
Another scream.
Daina bolted up, clutching his arm. "Edran… what's happening?"
"I don't know," he said. "We have to find Mama. Papa."
He grabbed her hand. They flew down the stairs, his feet thudding against the wood, hers stumbling just behind.
At the bottom, heat slammed into them like a wave.
Smoke curled from the kitchen doorway, fire licking in from the edges.
Crackling wood. The pop of something falling.
The smell of ash and burning herbs filled the air.
Then came the sound—
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Heavy. Unnatural. Like stones rolling with intent.
Shapes glided past the windows.
Edran turned, eyes locking on the dark silhouettes outside, tall, twisted figures, limbs too long, hunched forms slinking between the flames.
And then, those eyes. Red. Glowing. Fixed on nothing, yet alive with hunger.
A chill ran down his back like ice in his spine.
His breath caught at the sight of his precious village burning. Screams rang from beyond the hills.
"Cellar!" he gasped, yanking Daina sharply.
A pan clattered behind them as they stumbled toward the hatch.
He flung it open. They dropped down, missing the last steps, crashing into sacks of potatoes.
The air below was thick and bitter, dirt, rot, something sharp that burned the throat.
They crawled under the crates, shaking.
"I'm scared," Daina whispered.
"I know." Edran gripped her wrist. "Just... sing the Numa. Just the first line."
Her mouth moved but no sound came. Then—
A single note. Weak. Wobbly.
Edran hugged her close, humming along. His voice was shaky, rough, but steady enough to cover cracky voice.
Smoke poured into the cellar, thick and sharp, burning their throats and eyes.
Edran coughed hard, eyes watering, his chest tight like he couldn't get a full breath.
The air was turning hot, harder to breathe with each second.
He pulled Daina closer, shielding her with his body. Her small frame was shaking against him.
His skin stung. The heat was rising fast, from above, from the walls, from everywhere.
He felt trapped. His hands trembled. His legs were cold, even as the air got hotter.
He didn't know what to do. He didn't know if anyone was coming.
He just held on and whispered, voice cracking— "Oh Shiruba… please…"
Then—
BAM!
The cellar door above flew open.
"Edran! Daina!" a voice roared above.
"Papa!" Edran shot upright, smacking his head on the low beam. He stumbled but pushed forward, eyes stinging. "We're here! Down here!"
"Come on, little ones! Quickly, take my hand!" his father called, arm reaching into the smoke.
Edran grabbed Daina's wrist and charged ahead, the heat hitting harder with every step. His lungs burned. The air was too thick, too hot.
Just as he reached for his father's hand.
CRACK!
A flaming beam split from the ceiling and crashed between them.
Daina screamed.
Her grip slipped.
"No! NO! DAINAA!!"
Edran Lunged to reach her, Smoke clawed at his face. He reached out, grasping at the dark, cloth? Her sleeve? Her hand? Something tore loose.
And then—
Nothing.
Just her bracelet in his fingers.
And her little scream.
His chest felt like it collapsed. The noise around him vanished, just that scream, echoing, deafening.
Then hands were on him. His father yanked him up, hoisting him through the hatch and dragging him through the blaze into the cold night air.
"Papa! She's still in there! Let me go back!" Edran thrashed, eyes wide, voice hoarse and breaking.
"Daina?!" His father froze as just realized he was holding only Edran. He tried to rush back, But the fire roared louder as the ceiling gave in and the house buckled.
"DAINA!" Edran screamed as the cottage collapsed inward, flames swallowing everything.
The heat outside was nothing compared to what was rising inside him, panic,disbelief.
His legs went weak. His vision blurred. The bracelet hung limp in his fist.
Around them, the village burned. The sky pulsed red. Flames raced through fields, climbing rooftops. Shadows scattered, their purpose done. Screams and silence shared the air. Some people wept. Others shouted names. Others were gone.
Edran dropped to his knees in front of the burning wreckage, the bracelet clenched so tightly in his fist it dug into his skin. His eyes burned, but no tears came. The heat still licked at his face, the scorched air searing his lungs with every shallow breath. Ash swirled around him, catching in his throat, clinging to his skin. The distant screams slowly muffled with a ring on his ears.
His fingers trembled. The lullaby, her lullaby, was gone. Blown out like a candle in a storm.
Then, finally, the tears broke through. Hot and silent, they streaked down the soot on his cheeks as he stared at the place their home had been. He didn't move. Didn't speak. He just held the bracelet, as the last pieces of the roof caved in and the dawn began to bleed colorless light into the smoke-choked sky.
—
Eventually, the soldiers came, but too late. The village was ash, and their arrival felt more like a formality than salvation. Their polished armor caught the morning light, but offered no warmth. The captain dismounted near the ruins and spoke with the few elders who had clung to life through the night.
"We don't know if it was dragons or shadows," one of the elders muttered.
"It was shadows," Edran said, stepping forward. "I saw them! Black. Tall. With red eyes."
The captain turned toward him, with a serious tired face. "And who are you little boy?"
"Edran," he answered, steady. "And I want to join the soldiers. I'll protect our people... and avenge my sister."
"You're too young."
"I won't be forever," he shot back, fingers closing tighter around the bracelet.
The captain studied him for a moment, then slowly knelt. "What's your name boy?"
"Edran Vaelstrom."
A short chuckle escaped the captain. "You've got the eyes of a warrior, Vaelstrom. I'm Captain Halric. Remember that. Train. Survive. Grow into a man… Then come find me. I'll turn you into a real soldier." He rested a hand on Edran's shoulder.
Then Halric stood, voice rising towards the villagers. "Gather your dead. Those who can walk, follow us to Greimdall. You'll be taken to a refugee camp. Any man fit to fight will be considered for enlistment once we arrive."
Edran didn't respond. He just stood there, gripping the bracelet tight, watching in silence as the soldiers began to move the injured and guide survivors toward the road.
And then, without a word, he joined the march, walking beside his father, who stared ahead hollow-eyed, and his mother, whose silence said more than grief ever could.
They moved like shadows themselves.
But inside Edran, there was no room for sorrow. Only something cold. Heavy.
He didn't cry. He didn't speak.
He just walked, the bracelet warm in his palm, as if it still carried the last of Daina's voice.