A woman's screams resounded through the pitch black of the moonless night. The screams originated from a tiny village that was hidden in the belly of one of the most dangerous forests on the continent. Dozens of men and women of all ages surrounded a sturdy, two-story, wood cabin in anticipation of the coming silence that would herald in a new life.
A short stocky man paced nervously back and forth in front of the door. The golden light of many candles spilled through the cabin's window, outlining the stocky man’s face. Although not a handsome man, his skin was clear and fresh, bringing a stark contrast to the slight grey tinge to it. His sharp eyebrows twitched due to his well-defined mouth and jawline which was constantly moving as he mumbled, “she’ll be alright” repeatedly.
Some of the old ladies in the crowd snickered at him, while others were dumbfounded. Considering he had been repeating the same words and actions for over 6 hours, it had to be some kind of record. As the woman’s wails continued to ring throughout the village, the inky blackness of the night was briefly split asunder, as a bright multi-colored star fell from the heavens. Momentarily distracted by the spectacular scene above, none noticed that silence had descended until it was shattered by the scream of a newborn.
While the crowd came back to their senses, the short man patted down his thick homespun clothes. Seeming to simulate the way a nervous nobleman preparing to enter a banquet hall would do to his finery. After taking a steadying breath, the man opened the door and entered the brightly lit cabin.
Upon entering the man’s eyes immediately locked onto a woman laying down on a bed in the middle of the room. Reviewing her worn out appearance, sweat-soaked hair, and pale face; tenderness and worry could be seen in his eyes. A barely audible whisper of “Alavarah, are you ok?”, escaped from his lips as he nervously approached the bed.
The woman's eyes crept open as he approached. Although it was apparent she was in a great deal of pain, her eyes still shone brightly with life and happiness. The man reached out, slowly stroking the sticky hair from the ladies face, causing the woman’s lips to curl into a smile. She licked her dry, cracked lips while reproaching the man, “Iradin, I’m fine, go take a look at our son and give him a name before one of those fogies names him after his cow.”
With a low laugh, Iradin finally looked around the room. Spotting a wizened old lady, who looked old enough to have helped give birth to his grandparent's parents. He walked over to her while reaching his arms out for the bundle she had tightly hugged to her bosom. Retrieving his child from the ancient looking woman, he unwrapped the swaddling and began pinching and poking the poor naked babe.
After examining the child’s entire body his vision finally settled on its face. Bright yellow eyes with small flecks of green and gray spread throughout stared intently back at him. The look in the child's eyes seemed to be blaming Iradin for manhandling him previously. Iradin’s face slowly approached the child’s as if in a trance due to the unusual looking eyes his child owned. As just a few inches existed between the two, the trance was abruptly broken as a stream of urine rocketed up, splashing against his chin and soaking the front of his shirt. The scene evoked a cackling laugh from the old woman which heralded in a stream of visitors through the front door.
The spectacle of a father's first greeting from his child brought out copious amounts of laughter from the villagers that were smashing into the small room. Seeing that his wife was well taken care of by the village women, Iradin began to work his way towards the strongest cultivator in the village, the village leader.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Excited at the birth of his new son, Iradin held him up over his head while shouting, “Makeel, look, look at my son!” While the village leader gazed at the child, he barely had time to notice his strange eyes before two hands that seemed to be made of brittle old bark, reached up and snatched the child from the air.
“Iradin! He is a child, not a toy, now go change those soiled clothes, wash your face, and take care of your wife. The child needs to be fed by his mother now anyways.” Looking over his shoulder, Iradin saw the reproachful look the old woman had in her eyes and quickly exited the room to heed her words.
The old woman brought the child over to his mother's waiting arms while mumbling, “Men, they always act without thinking, all we need is a dropped baby.” Pointing at the child, the old lady asked, “So now that we got that fool out of the way, what are you going to name him?”
Alavarah looked down at the child, smiling while she stroked his bald head. Looking back up to the midwife, she said, “oh Deebs, I am just going to name him after my father. Then he can have a name from both Iradin’s family and mine. It’s too bad, if truly named after my father it would be Kael Fae. He will have to live with that terrible Darksteel surname. Hopefully, he will have a better fate than what forced us here."
Sighing, the woman brought the child to her breast to feed. Her eyes slowly closed due to the exhaustion. The old woman took the babe once the mother passed out.
Two years had breezed by, the couple who appeared to be in their late 20s were full of joy. Although they were better educated and more cultured than their fellow villagers, Alavarah’s kindness and Iradin’s hardworking attitude allowed them to quickly become accepted in the village. Alavarahs knowledge of herbs and Iranians skill with a bow made further contributions to that acceptance.
One night as Iradin returned from a hunting trip he was met with his wife’s gorgeous smile. Her dark green hair was tightly braided, showing her ever so slightly pointed ears. As soon as he entered the small cabin she rushed up to him, nearly bouncing with joy as she shouted, “Honey, our little Kael is simply a genius! It has been less than a month and he can already read and write! Ohh, but his writing is terrible, I know he is only 2, but if he inherited that chicken scratch of yours, you are in for a punishment.”
Laughing foolishly, Iradin gently stroked his wife's soft, silk-like cheek, “Varah, he is only a child, at that age I couldn’t even tie my boots let alone write. It will be fine.”
As another year quietly slipped by, Iradin found himself dumbly watching his now 3-year-old child carry posts for a fence they were building. Going back to hammering nails into the post he was working on, Iradin could not help but to think to himself, My son is truly a monster, he will definitely put his old man to shame.
At age 4 Kael was often found greeting the village herb gatherers when they returned to town. He always carried a small leatherbound book his mother made for him and used it to copy down the properties of the herbs that were gathered. On the off chance, none of the gatherers knew what they had found, Alavarah was always around to educate them.
On his 5th birthday just after receiving his father's gift, a small quiver of a few javelins, Kael suddenly stopped everything he was doing. Standing entirely still, frozen like a tiny statue, his eyes closed. A few minutes later he grabbed his heads shouting out a strange noise before fainting.
The last thing Kael remembered was his dream of zipping through the void while complaining about how terrible the games character finalization was. Abruptly he found himself holding a set of javelins and looking up at a man who must have been at least twice his height. The man had slightly grey skin, a buzzed haircut, and a well-defined set of muscles. Kael assumed he was the giant version of a special ops soldier. While staring at the man he was struck with a terrible migraine. He managed to shout “Fuck!” just before passing out.