Sitting on the wood-thatched roof of their cabin, Ronin was still beneath a twilight breeze. Just past the Edge, the trees of Neverend were swaying ever so gently. Raising his cup to drink, he found that he had just about finished his wine. He savored the taste of the sweet azalia berries as the last of the wine swam through him, awakening long-lost memories that may have been better left forgotten.
“My dear, Tena . . .” His voice had an undertone of sorrow, yet within it was peace, more than he had felt in a thousand rings. “Had we known the cloven fates that we flew towards, I wonder, would you have still made the choice to abandon your blood, and follow your heart into the unknown? You might still be here, had you not . . .” He paused for a long while. “It hurts not knowing the truth, and not being there when you needed me most . . . I wish only to know your true feelings before I leave this realm for good, if ever that is possible.”
Ronin let out a breath, feeling the chill of night’s touch on his cheeks, before realizing that the cup between his fingers was trembling. A tear fell from his eye, but just like that, it dissipated, turning into tiny crystal fragments that floated up and away.
“The sun comes and goes, as Night chases Day . . . will the ages of Aeryx forever be this way?” He placed his cup down on the roof, faintly smiling. “I have become what I never thought to be, a rambling old man who speaks and weeps senselessly while drinking alone.” Ronin gazed up at the stars. “I guess, neither of us won in the end, Avarice. We both lost in our own ways, but for what? We are both fools.”
He felt a pang of loneliness upon remembering that Caim and Storm were gone. He closed his eyes and pushed his focus out across Neverend, over the bladed grass and rocky dirt that blanketed the forest floor, past creatures small and large that went about their business, until he came upon two familiar auras.
He cracked a smile. “Already at the Great Tree, are we?”
Ronin stood and floated over to the Edge, but did not land on the cliffs. Instead, he continued floating down alongside them, until he came upon a thick root with a leaf dripping water from it. Pinching the side of the leaf, he cleaned his porcelain cup before tossing it straight up into the air, so high that he temporarily lost sight of it, until just a few moments later, he outstretched his hand and caught it, renewed and dried. He slipped the now clean cup back into the folds of his jacket.
Finding himself floating further down along the cliffs, he felt a familiar breeze, and Ronin came upon a beautiful tree with silver and gold leaves. It grew out of a shallow enclave in the cliffs, its trunk stretching out and up to the stars. He stepped down behind it, moving past roots and foliage, before finding a hidden cave he had not seen in many cycles.
The cave was not too deep, just large enough for one to walk around and stand-up in. In the middle were the remnants of a fire long since warm. It had been the very first place he had ever met the boys, a long time ago when they were newborns. Sitting down along one of the walls of the cave, Ronin gazed over at the tree; an air of magic permeated around it, as it always had, and the feeling brought him nostalgia. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out an old wooden pipe. He lit it cautiously, for the wind was playful, and his thoughts fell back to Caim and Storm.
They were young, reckless, and immature. They always had been. He knew full well they would attempt to enter the Soldier Games, despite him telling them that they shouldn’t, nor couldn’t. Well, shambles, they would find out the truth on their own. But it didn’t really make a difference. The time had finally come. The boys had set off on their own adventure into the world. He always knew that eventually Caim and Storm would have to leave the Edge, and discover the truth about Soria, and about themselves.
“Even I wonder about that truth,” whispered Ronin.
He leaned back, resting his hands behind his head. Little spiky-haired Caim, full of energy, passion, and love. And bright-eyed Storm, the most sensitive and inquisitive of them all, always full of questions, from even his earliest days.
Ronin could never in a thousand cycles have imagined how his life would change when he had first met them long ago. Taking a thick puff of his pipe, he felt the memories awakened. . . .
***
Many cycles ago, nearly seventeen to be exact, Ronin had found two crying babes tucked away in a leather rucksack. They had been dangling from the branch of that very same tree on the cliff’s edge, though at the time, it had no leaves and looked to be near the end of its days. He had been meditating in the cave, alone, for a time that not even he himself was conscious of. It was the furthest place away from civilization he could find, and civilization was somewhere he never wanted to return to.
He was never quite sure how the rucksack got there in the first place. He had only ever remembered feeling a flash of aura, and a brush of wind. But nothing ever followed, only silence. At least, that was until he heard the faint crying of two babies. Ronin opened his eyes for the first time in longer than he could remember.
Floating towards the tree still cross-legged, he came upon the rucksack, surprisingly finding that the only thing that had saved the infants was a single branch, the tree’s last and only one. A single unbroken branch had been the deciding factor between life and death for the two boys. Other than that, there wasn’t much he could discern about them. He guessed that one or both of their parents had died that night, or at least, that was his intuition.
“It seems your luck has run thin, despite this stubborn tree holding fast,” whispered Ronin. “But it is no longer my place to be a part of this world, and it was never my place to raise newborns. There is nothing I can do for you, young ones. Your lives will only be more despairing if I bring you into mine.”
Ronin flew away from the cave alone that night. He left the boys on the withered branch of the tree. He had nothing left to give, and no courage remaining to do what was right. But the image of the two boys never left his mind, even long after he had left their side. The thought of them, and the memory of their soft crying rekindled something in the old man’s heart, and the next night, he returned to see if they were still alive.
Upon floating down the cliffs to see what had become of them, Ronin found a treacherous cliff-dwelling creature, with teeth like daggers and midnight fur, lurking towards the baby boys. They were crying hysterically, undoubtedly sensing the danger encroaching upon them. Ronin made to move forward, but stopped himself suddenly.
“Why save them now . . . if I will only abandon them afterwards? I—There is nothing I can do for them . . . every person who has ever been touched by me has found nothing but misery. How can I, in earnest, save these boys, knowing that it will just bring them that same misfortune . . .”
The creature snarled as it crept toward the boys, its fangs bared sharp and white.
“Is this what I have become?” Ronin looked at his hands, pale in the moonlight. “Empty?”
Ronin could feel the seconds counting down as he floated there, frozen, unable to make a choice. Gritting his teeth, he knew, above all else, that it was one’s choices in life that defined them, and more often than not, the hard questions arose when one was least prepared to act. Could he live with the guilt of letting them die? Could he accept the responsibility of letting them live? Was abandoning them on the edge of a cliff the same as watching them get killed? It was then that he made his choice, and so did the creature.
The creature leapt, and the old man vanished. A blood-curdling howl broke the silence, and although one life had come to an end, another had just begun. The next thing Ronin knew, he was looking down into the leather pouch at two baby boys. One had brilliant silver hair, and a smile that calmed his wounded soul. The other had pitch-black hair and deep green eyes, giving him the strangest feeling of familiarity. He suddenly felt as if he were looking down at his own child; or rather, what he thought he would have looked like as a baby. Nuzzled next to them, he found two silver chains with names engraved on them.
“Caim and Storm, ka?” he whispered. “The names of swordsmen . . .”
After that fateful night, Ronin lived up to his choice and took them into his care. Shades became days, and soon the first change of season was upon him. He took care of them in the only way he knew how, by hunting in the forest for meat, and scavenging for herbs, berries, and vegetables that grew close to the four outer villages. He made them a little bed out of grass and straw, then watched over them as best he could.
The boys grew to be healthy, strong, and full of life, and he soon found that they were quite impulsive in their ways, especially with concern to sleeping and eating. Some nights, they slept without a peep, while others, they cried insatiably for shades on end, undoubtedly craving a mother that never came. Cycles passed and the two boys grew into toddlers. But the old man had grown as well. Something had changed in him, and he noticed that time seemed to pass in a way he had no longer thought was possible. It wasn’t aching and slow, full of painful memories that haunted him in every waking moment. Time still moved slowly, but it was an easing peaceful slow, like lying on a bed of flowers beneath the warmth of sunlight.
However, the truth remained the same. He had absolutely no idea how to raise children. He had been a swordsman his entire life, training only to strengthen himself and to protect others. This new challenge that had fallen into his lap made intensive training and battles feel like a walk in the forest. And despite the happiness he felt around the boys, Ronin would sometimes wonder if he had made the right choice. His home was a small cabin, only a rock’s throw away from the Edge where he had found them. It was the farthest one could be from the rest of civilization, something Caim and Storm knew nothing about.
Away from Neverend, the boys were safe from the predators lurking within, and he only had to worry about the occasional predators of the sky. Because of the isolation of their home, Caim and Storm never met other sorians, and for many cycles, they truly believed that the three of them were the only ones who lived in the entire world. Even Ronin began to feel the same.
Over the cycles, the two of them destroyed nearly everything they touched, as they crawled, raced, jumped, and battled each other everywhere. To Ronin’s dismay, this led to the gradual destruction of his once tranquil cabin in the sky. Birds chirped happily from the trees as they watched the madness and destruction quake from their little cabin, as though the birds themselves chuckled at the old man’s hardship.
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Yet, most of the time, Ronin could not imagine life any other way, and the boys became an integral piece of his life, a part of his family. Though, there were a few things he dreaded. One being when they first learned the remarkable fact that he was old, and they were young. From then on, they began calling him an ‘owd man,’ which he surprisingly disliked, but even then, the words he least liked hearing were, ‘we’re hungwy.’
The boys ate like nothing he had ever seen, heard, or even read about. They might as well have been little beasts in his eyes, little silver and black-haired monsters. He quickly understood that these boys were even more destructive than the soldiers he used to fight in battles, and it seemed that they only knew how to eat, sleep, and destroy. Sometimes he wondered if they were, perhaps, children of Neverend, given to him by the Spirit of the Forest: to protect, to teach and to raise.
Every day, Ronin would still attempt to train in some way, typically through meditation. And every day, they would attempt to disrupt him in one way or another. There were times Ronin grew impatient with them, times when his voice would slip into a shout, causing them to flee and hide in the trees, which they learned quite quickly to climb with ease. They watched like scared birds from high in the branches until Ronin was forced to come out, apologize, and play a game with them. If he didn’t, they wouldn’t agree to do anything he asked. The game usually ended with them being hungry.
It was late one night that one of Ronin’s fondest memories was born. He had just entered his Inner Depths; he could feel the cold night’s wind, and was on the way to finding solace within the sound of his world’s chaos. All reality dripped away as his inner world became real, and his eyes opened to a broken moon hanging high in the sky.
Yet, as Ronin floated peacefully in his meditative state, unbeknownst to his every sense, were two pairs of gleaming little eyes peeking out from the corner of the cabin. If one listened hard enough, just past the hidden silence, one might have heard just the faintest of whispers. The two watched him like a hawk as he levitated. At this time in their lives, the boys had but one simple purpose in life—to learn how to fly.
Dashing across the hallway and back into the cover of darkness, they moved like shadows in the night. Slowly and quietly, they closed the gap between them, until they were standing just before him. He had yet to notice them at all. . . . Perhaps.
Ronin opened one of his eyes just slightly. There they were, standing before him in the dead of night. Caim was making rapid hand gestures that no one understood but himself. Storm narrowed his eyes, frustrated by Caim’s antics. Ronin tried to keep himself from smiling. They were horrible at working together, yet in the oddest situations, bewilderingly good teammates at the same time.
Storm turned his back to Caim, tired of his nonsense. The instant he turned his back, a silver flash leapt at him, taking him by surprise. Caim clawed his way onto Storm’s back, sprawling him to the ground on his stomach. Once safely on top of Storm’s back, Caim crossed his legs and sat, then curled his hands on his knees, closing his eyes.
Ronin could see Storm take an exceptionally long, deep breath, before erupting out from underneath Caim, catapulting his brother through the air. Ronin could not hold back the smile, just barely tilting his head enough for Caim’s tiny body to fly past him. He heard a heard a huge crash as Caim smashed face-first into the wall, then slowly slid down it.
Silence followed. None of them moved. They were prepared for the worst.
Ronin opened one of his eyes.
“Run!!!” Storm yelped, dashing back to their room. Ronin felt Caim’s foot plant firmly onto his back, before seeing the underside of a tiny child leaping over his head. And then he was gone, running back into his room with his brother. Ronin waited patiently, closing his eyes. A few minutes later, they peeked out cautiously from the hallway, their tiny fists raised as if they were ready to fight the entire world.
What am I to do with all their energy? Ronin contemplated, still at a loss for how to raise them.
Making hand gestures that made absolutely no sense, the two crept back towards Ronin. Storm hesitated, wondering if the old man was still aware of them, then made his way closer. Moving quickly to Storm’s side, Caim attempted to tell Storm through hand gestures that he wanted him to sit back down on his hands and knees, so he could once again try to fly.
Storm ignored him, raising his hand in front of Ronin’s closed eyes, waving once, twice. . . .
“Caim! Storm!” Ronin’s voice thundered across the tiny cabin, and he grabbed Storm.
“What am I going to do with you two!? I can’t leave you alone for two seconds without pandemonium!”
Storm’s eyes gaped wide as he struggled to break free. Caim, who was startled enough into falling down, scrambled back to his feet and retreated to his room. He quickly reemerged with a sword-like tree branch. Dashing back out, he slipped across the floor, then hurtled towards Ronin.
“I’ll save you, Storm!” Swinging the tree branch with all his little might, Caim struck Ronin on the arm.
Both of them froze.
Ronin turned ever so slightly to face Caim, meeting his eyes. It was in that one look, that, torn between frustration and surprise, the old man realized something. Something that had been so painfully obvious from the start that he suddenly burst out laughing, loud and true. He let go of Storm, who ran away with Caim. But soon enough, the two boys had returned to watch him from around the bend, this time with a deep sense of curiosity.
“Did you see that I got him? Lucky for him I barely even used my maximum power,” Caim whispered, and Storm rolled his eyes.
“Get back to bed! Both of you!!!”
They did not attempt to sneak out for the rest of the night, and even some shades into the morning. But, that night, Ronin did not sleep. He was more than enthusiastic about his sudden epiphany, and what the dawn of the new day would bring. He realized that he had absolutely no idea how to raise children, none at all. Though, once he had accepted that fact, it opened his eyes to what he did know. When Caim had struck him with his little branch, he came to understand that there was something that he could give them, something he knew better than anyone else. The next morning, he watched the sunrise with newfound vigor.
“I understand how to become strong, in mind, body and spirit. And so, you boys will learn the same ways. You two will always be able to protect one another, no matter what happens, no matter what comes before you. I will show you what I have learned concerning the ways of the blade, and the path to finding the Soul of the Swordsmen. Prepare your minds, boys, and your hearts, for this training will be the first great challenge of your life. And perhaps, one day, you might even become heroes, and succeed where I have failed. Maybe, as brothers, the impossible can be possible.”
Ever since that night, he began training them in the different ways of mind, body, and heart, teaching them about the wonders of aura, physical prowess, and the strengthening of the nine senses. Ronin was relieved to find that the training was perfect for them, and at the end of each day, they were often so tired that they hardly ever stayed awake past dusk.
Cycles passed and the boys grew stronger, faster, and sharper. Yet their appetites grew in tandem, and it became harder and harder to find ample food to keep them sated. So, he began teaching them the ways of hunting, gathering, and learning the ways of nature.
It was not long before the boys had crafted wooden spears and were darting through Neverend like it was their second home. They learned to use their surroundings to their advantage, understood how to become as still and silent as a shadow, and learned to understand and read the forest. The creatures of Neverend began to take notice of them as they ran and played within it, and after defeating their first wild raelic, a large boar that stood nearly the size of their cabin, the forest seemed to grant some small amount of respect to the two wild, young boys.
Tree spirits often found and followed them, although they always seemed to have an affinity towards Caim. The boy’s strength also grew exponentially, and it wasn’t long before they could move and run at speeds faster than most of the beasts they encountered. They could climb the highest of trees without fear of falling, although Storm could never quite seem to keep his palms from sweating when he was up high.
Ronin watched them grow and learn with gratitude. He knew that the boys were special, and that, because of one another, they learned things far faster than others might. However, he knew that one day, Neverend would become less and less of a challenge for them. They began coming back each night with more and more energy, until Ronin finally decided that it was time to teach them the ways of the sword, a set of skills that would take them nearly their entire adolescence to begin understanding. . . .
***
An overwhelming feeling of nostalgia swept through the old man as he came back to the present. It felt like a lifetime had passed since those days, and so much had changed. They were still the same Caim and Storm, but they had grown strong beyond his greatest hopes, and they never forgot their hard-earned lessons along the way.
Ronin looked at the beautiful tree near the entrance of the cave. Despite the fact that the tree had been almost dead when it saved Caim and Storm as babies, it was now brighter and fuller of life than any tree he had ever known. Its gold and silver leaves danced alongside the faint melody of the wind.
“There is a magic I could never understand about you,” said Ronin, walking over and resting his hand on the tree. “Why is it that you brought me those boys? Can it be that you feel the same way I do about them?” His eyes traced out over the dark sky, and then he smiled.
“They will be great heroes, one day, this I know. Even the soul of the world knows it, even the soul of this tree.” He ran his fingers down the cool bark. Kneeling down, he found a full bottle of wine that he had left unopened long before, resting beside a flat stone with writing etched onto its surface.
‘Of the Moons: the Only Parents We Ever Knew.’
“I told you I would return the day they left and share this with you, good spirits of the boy’s parents,” Ronin sat down, leaning his back against the tree, then pulled his cup from his cloak. “I don’t know who you are, where you came from, or what happened to you. But Caim and Storm are the greatest gift one could ever wish for. You would be proud.”
Ronin poured some of the wine onto the stone, the roots of the tree, and lastly, into his cup.
“Because I am,” he whispered, feeling the tears flowing down his cheeks. “More than anything.”
***
A gust of freezing cold wind swept past Ronin, startling him awake. He did not know how long he had been asleep, but a strange shiver was creeping its way down his spine. He was suddenly reminded of the feeling he would get when being hunted by something in Neverend. Taking a moment to look around and feel for the presence of anything out of the ordinary, he finally relaxed and shook his head.
“Must really be getting old if I’m getting the jitters at night,” he mumbled, pouring himself another cup. “But what’s with the wind all of a sudden though, it’s absolutely frigid.” He looked out at the sky, which was darker than it had been all night. The moons were both nearly hidden behind wisps of clouds. “Eerie.”
Just like that, the bottle of wine cracked in his hand, slicing open his palm. The blood dripped onto the roots of the tree and the flat stone with the inscription. He held his breath. He was not a superstitious man, yet this was an unpromising sign, and the feeling of the night wind had become like ice on his cheeks.
“What is this . . .” Ronin murmured, feeling the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.
Finding his gaze pulled up by the dark sky, he looked out at the many celestial stars. The great star, Lineial, had settled onto her throne in the center of them all. But something was drawing his eyes to it, a feeling inside, an instinct. Just when he was starting to relax, he saw something. Something that made his blood freeze, his throat go dry, and the dark memory of a better-forgotten past creep out of the graveyard of his mind.
Far away in the midnight sky, straight east of the great star Lineial, was another beautiful star he knew all too well. It was the star, Felduir, that he had seen, but it was not the star itself that had every hair on his body standing on edge. The star had flickered once, then twice, then vanished, and was completely gone.
“Impossible. . . .” Ronin gasped out suddenly in pain, dropping the bottle and clutching his head. Flashes of the past, of battles and blood, churned through his mind in a vortex of despair and agony. Memories of a truly coldhearted contempt spread over him like a shadow, and he felt the essence of evil all around.
“How? How can this be!?” He recoiled again, feeling the pain growing.
Ronin collapsed to his knees. True strife passed into him then, followed by a cold sweat. In his mind, a single shadowy entity became clear, standing apart from the battles and blood. The creature had long black wings, its face hidden by an ivory bone mask. Upon the mask was a sharp and twisted smile; a smile that could only be born from true wickedness. Its knowing eyes found his own, and Ronin cried out, accidentally knocking his cup off the edge of the cliff, where it fell away and into the dark.
Ronin’s eyes flashed open, and he desperately sought the star Felduir.
But it was gone.
And only darkness remained.