Sid Montcroix had always dreamed of becoming a knight. As a young boy, he would watch the sun dip behind the vast fields of Valoria, imagining himself riding into battle with shining armor and a gleaming sword.

The sound of his father’s voice echoed in his mind as they trained together in the clearing behind their modest home, sweat dripping from their brows under the golden light.

“Again, Sid. Strength isn’t in how hard you swing. It’s in how long you can keep swinging.”

His father, Sir Alistair Montcroix, had been a knight once—a man of great honor and valor. Sid’s small hands trembled as he gripped the wooden practice sword, but he kept going, lunging forward with a determined shout.

His father’s steady gaze never wavered, though there was always a hint of sadness behind his eyes, as if he knew something Sid didn’t.

Sid admired him. He wanted to be like him. But even more, he wanted to surpass him.

However, as the years passed, the harsh reality of life set in. Sir Alistair grew weaker, the once-powerful knight reduced to coughing fits and frail limbs.

The illness that ravaged his body took him swiftly, leaving Sid with only memories of their training sessions and the heavy weight of unrealized dreams.

The day his father died was the day the fire in Sid’s heart flickered for the first time. The man he had once believed was invincible had succumbed to something as mundane as sickness.

And soon, Sid found himself standing in the same shadow, as the same illness began to creep into his own body.

Sid sat by the window, staring out at the familiar landscape of Valoria. His chest tightened, not from emotion but from the relentless grip of sickness.

He could barely walk some days, his limbs heavy with exhaustion. The fevered dreams that plagued his nights whispered of an end he wasn’t ready to face.

“I’m not like him,” Sid muttered under his breath. His reflection stared back at him, gaunt and pale, a mockery of the knight he had once dreamed of becoming. “I’m weak.”

His hands clenched the edge of the window, and for a moment, he considered just letting go—letting the sickness take him.

What was the point of struggling against the inevitable? He would never ride into battle, never hold a sword with the strength his father had. His dream of knighthood had already slipped through his fingers like sand.

Just as the darkness of his thoughts threatened to engulf him, a knock echoed through the silence. Sid flinched, his tired eyes darting to the source of the sound.

A figure stood outside his window, tapping lightly against the glass. Sunlight filtered through the panes, casting a soft glow over the girl standing there—a girl with fiery red hair and bright green eyes, grinning mischievously as if she’d just pulled off a grand prank.

“Hey! Open up, will you?” she called, her voice carrying the warmth of summer.

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Sid blinked, confused. He didn’t recognize her at first, but something about her energy was infectious. Against his better judgment, he pushed the window open.

“Who... who are you?” Sid asked, his voice hoarse from disuse.

“Elara Valenwood,” the girl declared proudly, placing her hands on her hips as if her name should’ve meant something to him. “And you’re the kid named Sid, right?”

Sid nodded slowly, unsure of how to respond. She didn’t wait for him to say anything more, climbing through the window with ease, like it was something she did every day.

“I saw you around town a few times, ” she explained, plopping down onto the floor beside him. “Figured you looked lonely, so here I am! You and I, we’re gonna be friends.”

Sid blinked at her forwardness, but there was something refreshing about it. No one had ever approached him like this before. He was used to being the quiet, sickly boy who kept to himself.

“I don’t have friends,” he admitted quietly, looking down at his hands.

“Well, now you do,” Elara said, flashing him a wide grin. “Besides, knights have to stick together, right?”

Sid’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of knights. “Knights?”

“Yeah! My dad’s a knight in the Silver Hawk Knights. I’m gonna be one too, someday,” she said confidently, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I saw you practicing with your dad a while back. You’re pretty good, you know.”

Sid swallowed, his throat tight. “My dad’s dead. And... I’m not a knight.”

Elara’s expression softened for a moment, but she didn’t let the sadness linger. “Well, I’m still gonna be your friend. And maybe one day, we’ll both be knights. How about that?”

Elara’s visits became a regular occurrence. At first, it felt strange—this vibrant girl with dreams of knighthood barging into Sid’s world of shadows and sickness.

She filled his empty, silent days with stories of her father, of her future ambitions, and tales of knights who lived by their code of honor. Every day, she dragged him outside whenever he could muster the energy, insisting that they train.

At first, Sid could barely lift the wooden sword. His limbs were weak, and each swing reminded him of his limitations. But Elara didn’t care about that. “You’re not weak,” she would say, her eyes glowing with determination. “You’re still standing, aren’t you?”

There was a strange magic in the way she approached him—not pity, but genuine friendship. She never saw him as someone to feel sorry for. To her, Sid was just Sid, her equal. The more time they spent together, the more Sid found himself beginning to believe in her words.

Their bond deepened over the course of those weeks. They didn’t just train; they talked about everything. Elara shared her dreams of joining the Silver Hawk Knights, of protecting Valoria just like her father did.

In return, Sid opened up about his own dreams—the dreams that had started to die with his illness. It was in those quiet moments, when they’d sit in the grass under the fading sun, that Sid felt something stir inside him—something he hadn’t felt since his father’s death.

Hope.

“I think you’re stronger than you know,” Elara said one day as they sat by the edge of a stream. She skipped a stone across the water, her expression thoughtful. “You don’t give up. Not even when it feels impossible.”

Sid glanced at her, surprised. “You really think that?”

“I don’t just think it. I know it.”

Her words stuck with him, weaving themselves into his thoughts, challenging the darkness that constantly threatened to pull him under. Elara was right. He hadn’t given up, not completely. And as long as she was by his side, maybe he never would.

But the sickness never left. It was always there, lurking beneath the surface, reminding him of the inevitable.

One day, Elara came to him with news that both excited and terrified him.

“I’m going back to my hometown for a while,” she said, her eyes bright with anticipation. “My family wants me to train with some of the knights there. You should come with me, Sid! It’ll be fun.”

Sid froze, his chest tightening for reasons other than illness. He had never told Elara about his condition. She didn’t know how sick he really was. How could he go with her when he barely had the strength to make it through the day?

“I... I don’t think I can,” Sid whispered, looking away.

“Why not?” Elara asked, confused. “We’ve been training together for months now. You’re stronger than you think, Sid.”

Sid shook his head, his heart heavy with the weight of the truth he hadn’t shared. “I’m not... like you. I’m not strong.”

Elara frowned, stepping closer. “Sid, what’s going on? You’re not telling me something.”

Sid opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat. How could he tell her that he was dying? That he would never see her again after she left? He couldn’t bear to see the look of pity in her eyes. He didn’t want her to remember him like that.

Instead, he said nothing. Elara stood there, waiting for an answer that never came.

“I’ll... I’ll be waiting for you tomorrow,” she said finally, her voice soft with uncertainty. “Please, Sid. Come with me.”

Sid watched as she left, the door closing behind her with a quiet thud. He wanted to follow her, to tell her everything, but his body refused to move. He was too weak. Too afraid.

The next morning, Sid woke to an overwhelming sense of dread. His fever had worsened, his limbs felt like lead, and breathing was a struggle. He knew, deep down, that today would be the day.

Elara came, just as she had promised. She waited outside his house for hours, looking back at the door every few minutes, hoping he would come out.

But he didn’t.

And by the time the sun set on Valoria, Sid Montcroix had breathed his last.

Elara left, not knowing that her best friend was gone.