January 2nd, 983
The moon hung low in the inky sky, casting a pale glow over the desolate cobblestone streets of the coastal city. A biting breeze carried with it the scent of brine and salt, as the sound of distant waves crashing against unseen rocks echoes through the night. Shadows danced on the walls of crooked buildings, and the only signs of life were the flickering lanterns that struggled to dispel the pervasive darkness.
On this dim and wintry night, wrapped in an enigmatic should that seemed to absorb what little light dared to touch it, a solitary figure stood. He made his way through the labyrinth alleys towards the worn wooden door of St Andrew's Orphanage. The cobbles clinked beneath the man's heavy boots, each step carrying an air of purpose that spoke of a clandestine mission. His face obscured y the hood of his cloak, the stranger approached the entrance with a measured gait, a bundle cradled carefully in his arms.
At the orphanage, an aged structure with timeworn shutters, a woman named Matilda stood. She tightened the scarf around her neck, with the cold seeping through the cracks in the weathered wooden door. Matilda, a woman of thirty with brown hair pulled into a tight bun, clutching a flickering lantern, its feeble light barely illuminating the porch.
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As the hooded stranger approached, Matilda senses heightened. A wary tension hung in the air, thick as the mist rolling in from the distant sea. The stranger halted before her, his face concealed in the cloak's shadow. With a deep, gravelly voice that carried the weight of secrets, he spoke "Daichi."
Matilda's brows furrowed in confusion, as she regarded the man and the bundle he held. The night seemed to hold its breath, awaiting an explanation that would never come. The hooded figure gently lowered the fabric-wrapped bundle, revealing a tuft of dark hair and the serene face of a one year old boy. The child, stirred slightly, as if sensing the gravity of the moment.
"Daichi," the shrouded man repeated, his voice tinged with both urgency and solemnity. He locked eyes with Matilda, the depths of this gaze betraying an unspoken sorrow. "Take care of him," he urged, before turning away, disappearing into the night without another word.
Matilda, bewildered by the sudden arrival and cryptic words, knelt to cradle the child in her arms. Daichi, still wrapped in the mysterious aura that clung to him, shivered in the freezing cold of the night.
As the hooded man's footsteps faded into the obsidian embrace of Areslas, Matilda closed the door behind her, the creaking hinges sealing a new chapter in the orphanage's history. The tale of Daichi, a child with an enigmatic past, had begun on this chilling night, under the watchful gaze of the moon and the echoing lullabies of the restless ocean beyond.