The tale of the Atlas Dawn, grand as it was, didn't begin with an earth-shaking rumble or a fiery explosion but with the subtle thud of a well-loved book landing in Atticus Ren's lap.

"Grandpa, this one. Please read me this story," Klay, Atticus' grandson, insisted, his brown eyes eager.

Pulled from his daydreams, Atticus' gaze left the tranquil village view outside his window and met the familiar book now in his possession. Its spine was creased from countless readings, pages worn with excitement. The cover, marked by a nine-pointed star and a cross, was a testament to the epic tale it held.

"It's past your bedtime, my boy," Atticus playfully chided, a twinkle in his blue eyes. "And besides, I thought you knew this one by heart."

"I do, but... please," Klay implored. "I'll sleep right after. Please, please, please."

"Alright, alright," Atticus laughed, surrendering to his grandson's plea. "But it's straight to bed after this."

With a triumphant grin, Klay darted to his room, rustling his checkered quilt as he burrowed beneath it. Following behind, Atticus ignited an oil lamp, its soft glow teasing the corners of the room. Settling beside the bed, he opened the book and drew in a breath, ready to bring the tale to life once more.

"In its first days-"

"Wait. I want to see the pictures, too," Klay interrupted, scooting closer for a better view.

With a smile, Atticus tilted the book, the lamp's glow breathing life into the vivid illustrations. King Deis Humer stood tall amidst many menacing opponents and monstrous creatures. He was an ant in a circle of giants, yet his calm smile held a silent promise of victory.

"In the earliest days of Acadia," Atticus began once again.

"Our beloved kingdom was defended by one man: Deis Humer, the First King. Possessing incredible powers and abilities known as the Arts, he safeguarded the kingdom and its people from countless threats. For years, he stood as the sole barrier against the Sun King and the Saints of Meridia, who frequently encroached on our lands. It was he who always repelled the hordes of the Dundari, led by their fearsome Beast Lords, when they invaded our eastern shores."

Atticus flipped the page, revealing an illustration of King Humer enveloped by a majestic aura of varying colors-red, gray, green, blue, black. Tempestuous winds and roaring flames encircled him, while the very earth seemed to quake and splinter under his feet. The defeated bodies of his foes lay scattered across the war-torn field while others fled in terror from his awe-inspiring might.

"Despite all his wondrous abilities, the greatest power King Humer possessed was his wisdom. He understood that as a mortal, he couldn't protect his kingdom and its people forever. So, before his time in this world reached its end, he chose nine individuals and taught them to harness the Aether and wield the Arts as he had done. The Spear, the Shield, the Shadow, the Tempest, the Blizzard, the Inferno, the Scholar, the Void, and the most distinguished of all, the Dauntless. These nine became the first magical Order, the nine Guardians of Acadia. Bearing King Humer's mark, the Dais, they took up the mantle of protecting Acadia and its people."

"Over time, the Guardians and others who learned to master the Arts became known as Sages. They grew in number and strength, but only the most-worthy were entrusted with the titles, duties, and Daises of the original Guardians. These chosen few inspired legends, either spoken of in hushed whispers or recounted in magnificent epics."

Atticus watched as Klay's eyes mirrored the illustrations of the Guardians from the tale. Each of them bore the Dais' mark, a black cross encircled by nine differently colored stars. Among them, the Dauntless held the central position, his purple Dais prominently displayed.

As the book closed, the boy's dreamy gaze was replaced with a spark of determination. Klay, with a burst of wild energy, tossed off the checkered covers and started jumping on his bed.

"Grandpa, Grandpa, I've decided. I'm going to be a Guardian, too. I'm going to be strong. I'm going to protect people and save the day," he declared, his small fists swishing through the air in swift, pretend strikes. Atticus couldn't help but chuckle as Klay enthusiastically 'defeated' his imaginary enemies with a kick that almost made him lose his balance. The boy regained his footing and announced, "I'm going to be the Dauntless, Grandpa."

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In the room's dimly lit corner, Klay's older brother, Finn, stirred. He was taller and leaner than Klay, his deep blue eyes a stark contrast to Klay's brown. Those eyes pressed into a glare aimed at his younger brother.

"Klay, you're too loud," Finn grumbled, his voice heavy with sleep. "Why can't you just listen to the story quietly?"

"But the Guardians are cool, Finn. And the Dauntless is the coolest; no one could push him back. Right, Grandpa?" Klay gushed, continuing his imaginary battle.

"Yes, my boy. No one pushed him back," Atticus confirmed with a chuckle.

"Same here. No one can push me back. Watch this!" Klay drew a line on the worn rug with his toe. Then, after throwing a series of determined punches, he puffed out his chest in triumph. "I'll be the best Guardian ever. I'll be the Dauntless," he announced to Finn.

Annoyed, Finn climbed out of bed and confronted Klay. "Dream on. You could never be the Dauntless."

Their eyes locked in a silent challenge. Klay seemed prepared to throw one of his well-practiced punches, and Finn readied himself to dodge and counter. But as Klay raised his fist, Atticus doubled over with laughter. His chair tipped over, and a silver bracelet slipped off his wrist, clattering across the floor.

"Klay, my boy," Atticus gasped between laughs, "Do you really want to be the Dauntless?"

Klay nodded earnestly, dropping his fist.

"That's a big dream," Atticus said, wiping the tears from his eyes. "And how many foes did you defeat? I think I counted nine. What about you, Finn?"

"Zero. He was merely flailing around," Finn retorted.

"Shut up, Finn," Klay shot back. "I beat up twelve people. Two on my bed, five on the floor, and six more people with my super Klay punch."

"You fool. That doesn't even make any sense," Finn snapped.

"It does. You're just too dumb to understand."

"Oh, I'm the dumb one?" Finn sneered, pointing to Klay's heel. "Look where your feet are, genius. See, Mr. Dauntless? You were pushed back past your line."

As Klay looked down, Atticus erupted in another wave of laughter. "Oops, you crossed the line, my boy."

Klay's indignant frown deepened, his cheeks puffed out as he pushed Finn aside and ran toward Atticus. "I'm serious, Grandpa," Klay insisted, hammering his tiny fists against his grandfather's chest. "I'll become the greatest, most awesome Guardian. Just wait and see. I'll show you."

"There's a rumor that the greatest, most awesome Guardian was a Dauntless named Ren," Atticus managed between bouts of laughter.

Klay halted; his curiosity was piqued. "Yeah, you always say that but you never tell us who it is."

"Maybe that's you, kiddo," Atticus laughed again, prompting Klay to renew his assault.

"You see," Finn chimed in with a wicked grin. "Even Pops knows you're being ridiculous. It's obvious that I'll be the strongest and greatest Guardian."

Klay shot him a defiant look. "No way."

Finn met his glare. "Yes, way. I'm already stronger, so it makes sense that I'll be the greatest Guardian."

"You're only stronger 'cause you're older, dummy. Just wait. I'll be stronger soon," Klay retorted.

Finn smirked condescendingly. "Dream on, but you'll never be stronger than me, little brother."

Undeterred, Klay jumped onto Finn's bed. "I'll have to be, 'cause I'll be the Dauntless, and he's the strongest!" He locked eyes with Finn.

Finn frowned, baffled. "That doesn't make sense." Klay simply stuck his tongue out in response.

"Boys, boys. Talk is cheap. So, I guess you'll just have to show me. But now, it's bedtime." Atticus stood, joints creaking with the effort.

As he began to tidy up, Klay leaped onto Atticus' back. Laughter filled the room as Atticus swung him around before placing him back in his bed.

"But I'm not sleepy!" Klay protested.

Atticus raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you promise to sleep after another Guardian story?"

"He did," Finn confirmed. "Go to sleep, Klay."

"No, you go to sleep, dummy," Klay shot back.

"I am!" Finn replied, already settling under his blanket.

"Fine. Hope you wet the bed," Klay smirked, yawning and pulling up his covers. "Goodnight, Grandpa."

"Hope you get kidnapped," Finn muttered in return, smirking at Klay's shocked expression. "Goodnight, Pops."

"Goodnight, boys. Sleep tight," Atticus said, stooping to retrieve his silver bracelet from the floor. He slipped it back onto his wrist, and with one last look at his grandsons, he left the room. Klay's soft snores were already punctuating the quiet, while Finn was restless, tossing and turning. Atticus knew Finn would be up a while longer, secretly lost in a book of his own, but eventually, the call of sleep would be too strong to resist.

When Atticus entered his own room, he placed his lamp on the nightstand and began to undress. His shirt slid from his toned torso, revealing a tapestry of scars and the image of a purple nine-pointed star with a central cross etched into his skin.

"The Dauntless, huh?" he mused to himself, pulling on his sleeping shirt. "A fine choice, my boy."

He climbed into his bed, the soft sheets cool against his skin. As he reached to extinguish the lamp, a faint glow emanated from the Dais on his back. With a flick of his finger, he sent a tiny gust of wind to snuff out the flame.

"A fine choice indeed," he whispered into the darkness, a contented smile playing on his lips.

That night, as the quiet village of Wailen slumbered, Klay's dreams were filled with visions of himself as the Dauntless, the greatest of the Guardians. Sadly he and the rest of the village were oblivious to the impending disaster that was looming just beyond their peaceful horizon.