At the Edge of the Fire, Between Two Fates
I never imagined that a small lie—spoken without intention—would carry me this far: into the quiet of night, sitting beside an old blacksmith, by a campfire that danced slowly amid the chill of the evening wind.
"What have you done to survive this far?" the old man asked, his voice hoarse, yet his gaze burned like the embers that never died in the forge.
I stared into the flames, silent for a moment, then spoke softly, "I... was pulled by something. A mystery still unresolved—about my family."
He narrowed his eyes, his gaze piercing through time. "Does it have to do with... the throne?"
I straightened up, slightly startled. "Yes... it does. But—do you know something? Something like what I'm going through?"
He let out a long sigh. "If you're speaking of the throne, then what awaits you isn't just answers, but burdens. That path is filled with grand hopes—fragile ones. And the most terrifying part is... there are no clear signs."
His words sounded like they came from wounds that had yet to heal.
"Sir... have you experienced something like this too?" I asked again, my voice quiet but full of hope.
"Of course," he replied, his tone low but deep. "And to this day, the pain hasn't fully faded. I know how hard it is to find meaning when your past is covered in mist. That's why I hope you can finish your search. For the sake of the hope you've held since you were a child."
I fell silent. For a moment, only the sound of the fire remained—like whispers of the past rising from the ashes.
"I think... you know more than you let on," I said at last. "Since I was little, I lived without parents. The world felt like a cold, empty place. But one day, I found a picture—in the room my mother once used. An old painting... my mother standing beside a man wearing a crown. I'm sure—it was my father. Even though I've never seen his face in person."
He turned slowly, meeting my eyes with a gaze that was softer now, yet still held the fire of a truth unspoken.
"I understand now," he said quietly. "You did not come into this world without a trace. And every trace, though buried under the dust of time, can be found again—if you're strong enough to seek it."
He stood slowly, letting his shadow dance upon the firelit wall.
"Train with me," he said firmly. "You need strength—not to wage war, but to uncover the mystery of your life. And to face the truth... when it finally stands before you."