The morning light poured over Timber Falls like a hesitant blessing, bathing the barren fields in a muted gold. The Johnson farm, a patchwork of crumbling fences and overgrown grass, sat quietly under the expanse of the sky. Near the edge of the property, beneath a cluster of weathered oaks, stood two gravestones.

Julius Johnson knelt before them, his head bowed, the weight of memory pressing on his shoulders. The sword strapped to his back caught the morning light, but the brilliance of its steel seemed out of place in the humble setting.

His fingers brushed across the first stone, etched with the name Julius Johnson Sr., followed by the words: Knight of Leona—Fallen but Unbroken. Julius’s hand lingered there, tracing the letters as though seeking answers in their grooves.

“You set me up for a great start, didn’t you?” he muttered his tone light but with an edge of bitterness. “A legacy to clean up, a name to redeem, and no instruction manual. Thanks for that, Dad.”

His gaze shifted to the second gravestone. Maria Johnson—A Love Beyond Mortal Bounds. The words were softer, kinder, and they cut deeper. “And you,” he murmured, “left me with a lot to live up to. No pressure or anything.”

Julius sat back on his heels, letting the silence settle around him. The graves didn’t answer. They never did. But somehow, standing here, he felt their weight more than anywhere else.

“I’m going,” he said finally, his voice quiet but firm. “To Leona. To the Academy. I don’t know if I’m ready for it, but I'll never find out if I don’t leave now.” His hazel eyes flickered with something stubborn, unyielding. “I’ll make it right. Somehow.”

Julius adjusted the strap of his satchel as he rose, the early morning sunlight brushing over his light brown skin. He stood tall, even among the towering trees of Timber Falls, his six-foot frame a testament to his mixed lineage. The Danambi-descendant Leonaian blood in his veins gave him a rugged sturdiness and a certain quiet grace. His black hair, curling slightly at the ends, fell messily around his face, a reminder of the long hours spent readying for this journey rather than worrying about appearances.

He caught his reflection in a nearby puddle, his hazel eyes standing out vividly—like embers caught in the fading glow of a fire. There was always something restless in those eyes, a flicker of determination that burned even when the weight of his father’s legacy pressed down on his shoulders. His sharp, angular features bore traces of both sides of his heritage: the proud, earthy strength of the Danambi and the poised discipline of the Leonaian knights.

Timber Falls, with its sprawling woods and tightly-knit community of tall, broad-shouldered lumberjacks, had always been home to Danambi-descendant Leonaian families. Yet, even among his people, Julius was something of an outlier. He carried himself differently—not just with the burden of his father’s name but with a quiet awareness that came from years of longing for something beyond this small village.

The sword on his back gleamed in the sunlight, its intricate carvings catching the light. It was a weapon that didn’t belong in Timber Falls, just as Julius sometimes felt he didn’t. His hands, calloused from years of hauling timber and tending to the family farm, rested instinctively on the hilt as he took a deep breath.

The faint rustle of leaves drew his attention. Two children from the village peeked out from behind a tree, their eyes wide with curiosity. Like most of the younger ones in Timber Falls, they saw Julius as larger than life—a boy who grew up swinging axes like toys and now prepared to carry his family’s legacy to the capital.

Julius offered them a lopsided grin and a small wave before turning away. The weight of their gazes stayed with him as he mounted Cricket, the sturdy bay horse that had been his companion for years.

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

“Alright, girl,” he murmured, patting her neck. “Let’s show them that a Johnson can still make a name worth remembering.”

----------------------------------------

Inside the barn, Julius tightened the last strap on his saddlebag, his movements steady despite the tremor in his chest. The barn smelled of hay and aged wood, scents that had become so ingrained in his life he barely noticed them anymore. Now, as he prepared to leave, they felt suddenly significant, a tether to the life he was leaving behind.

Outside, a small group of neighbors had gathered, their expressions a mixture of pity and polite encouragement. Julius had always hated pity—it felt like being dressed in ill-fitting armor. He swung onto his horse, Cricket, and forced a grin.

“Thanks for the sendoff,” he said, raising a hand in a mock salute. “I’ll try not to embarrass the village too much.”

A few chuckles rippled through the crowd, but most of the smiles were tight, strained. The weight of expectation, of judgment, pressed on him like an invisible chain.

As Julius urged Cricket forward, a voice cut through the murmurs. “You’re chasing ghosts, boy.”

He froze, his reins tightening instinctively. The voice was calm, and deliberate, and carried a weight that made the hairs on his neck stand. Turning toward the source, Julius saw a man leaning against the fence at the edge of the gathering. The man’s dark cloak swayed lightly in the breeze, its hood casting his face into shadow. Despite his casual posture, there was something about him—something off.

Julius’s pulse quickened as his gaze swept over the stranger. His instincts sharpened without warning, feeding him details he hadn’t consciously sought. Average height, compact build, cloak disguising armor. Swordfighter. Defensive stance—steady, balanced. His sword is positioned for a quick draw. Feet positioned for a counter. Watch his left side.

The thoughts came unbidden, precise, and clinical, like a voice in his head that wasn’t entirely his own. Julius shook his head slightly, trying to dispel the strange sensation.

“Judging someone’s life choices without introducing yourself?” Julius called, forcing his tone into something light. “That’s bold, even for Timber Falls.”

The man pushed off the fence, his boots crunching softly against the dirt as he approached. His movements were fluid, measured, and carried an air of quiet authority. “You think you’re ready for what’s waiting in Leona?” he asked, his voice low but cutting.

Julius shrugged, though his grip on the reins tightened. “Honestly? Probably not. But if I wait until I’m ready, I’ll be stuck here forever. And Timber Falls doesn’t deserve to endure me that long.”

The man’s lips twitched, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “It’s not charm you’ll need in Leona. It’s steel. And even then, it might not be enough.”

Julius leaned forward slightly, studying the stranger. “You’re dramatic for someone I’ve never met. Do you always give cryptic warnings, or am I just special?”

The man stopped a few paces away, his shadow falling across the path. “Your father was special, too. Look where it got him.”

The words hit like a blow, and Julius’s hand drifted to the hilt of his sword. He didn’t draw it, but the intent was clear. “If you know something about my father, you’d better say it. Otherwise, keep walking.”

The man’s gaze didn’t waver. “Your father’s fall wasn’t just a matter of pride, boy. It was a fall into shadows deeper than you understand. Do you think you’re ready to chase them? Fine. But don’t say you weren’t warned.”

Julius’s jaw tightened, but he forced himself to respond with a grin. “You’re not the first person to tell me I’m not ready. You think that’s going to stop me?”

“No,” the man said simply. “But it might save your life.”

The two locked eyes, the air between them tense and charged. Then, without another word, the man turned and began walking away. His cloak billowed faintly behind him as he disappeared down the path.

“Wait!” Julius called after him. “Who are you?”

The man paused, glancing over his shoulder. “Dre Royce. And if you’re smart, boy, you’ll leave this to the dead.”

Before Julius could respond, Dre vanished into the trees, his dark form melting into the morning shadows.

----------------------------------------

Julius sat frozen for a moment, his thoughts a whirlwind. The man’s words lingered, but something else gnawed at him—something stranger. That voice in his head, calm and precise, had returned during the encounter.

Efficient. He’d bait you with a feint, testing your reaction. Counter low if he overextends. Keep your stance neutral.

Julius shook his head, muttering under his breath. “Fantastic. First day on the road, and I’m already losing it.”

He flicked the reins, urging Cricket forward. The crowd had dispersed, and Timber Falls faded behind him, swallowed by the rolling hills. The weight of his father’s legacy pressed heavier with every step, but he didn’t falter.

“I’ll figure it out,” he said quietly, his voice firm against the wind. “And when I do, they’ll remember the name Johnson.”

The road stretched long and uncertain ahead, shadowed by whispers of the past and promises of a future yet to be claimed.