I can still remember the day I met Elio.

We were both five, covered in mud from head to toe, standing in the orphanage courtyard. The caretakers had just brought him in—a small, frightened boy with eyes too bright for someone who'd lost everything. I didn't know then that those same eyes would one day lead armies, inspire nations, and ultimately save our world.

"I'm Neri," I said, offering him half of my stolen apple.

He just stared at it for the longest time, like he'd never seen an act of kindness before. When he finally took it, our hands touched, and I swear something shifted in the universe that day.

"I'm Elio," he whispered back.

And just like that, we became inseparable.

Our village of Timbervale sat at the very edge of the Empire's reach—the kind of place forgotten by maps and memories alike. The kind of place where orphans like us grew up fast, where we learned to find family in each other when the world offered none.

We shared everything: the threadbare blanket during winter nights when the orphanage roof leaked; the single textbook we'd take turns reading under candlelight; the dreams we whispered about what lay beyond our village's borders.

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"We'll leave this place together someday," Elio would say, eyes fixed on the horizon. "We'll see everything there is to see."

I'd nod along, though the truth was I didn't care where we went, as long as we went there together.

The years passed in a blur of shared memories. We learned to fish in the river that ran behind the orphanage, defended each other from the village bullies, built secret hideouts in the woods, and stayed up countless nights mapping constellations we made up ourselves.

We were twelve when Master Loroth arrived at our village—a stern-faced man with a walking staff and eyes that seemed to see through you. He was the first mage I'd ever seen, and I couldn't stop staring at the faint blue glow that surrounded his fingertips.

"Magic is nothing to gawk at, boy," he told me once, catching me watching. "It's simply the language of the universe. Some are born speaking it; the rest must learn it word by painful word."

I wanted to learn those words more than anything. But Master Loroth wasn't in our village to teach—he was passing through, one of many Imperial scouts searching for something. Or someone.

We didn't know then that the Empire was already preparing, that they sensed the coming darkness. We didn't know they were looking for heroes.

All we knew was that Elio and I had made a pact: whatever life brought our way, we would face it together.

How naive we were, thinking some childhood promise could stand against destiny.