April 2028
"En garde!" The sharp command sliced through the afternoon air, a stark contrast to the gentle chirping of crickets hidden in the long grass. The sun beat down, turning the dust motes in the air to shimmering gold.
Eleven-year-old Liora sparred with her father, Nathan, in their yard. The scent of sun-baked earth and freshly cut grass hung heavy and sweet. Each clang of their blades meeting sent a faint tremor through the earth beneath their feet. Nathan, quicker and stronger, patiently guided her, his corrections gentle but firm; a subtle clenching of his jaw betrayed the underlying tension.
Liora wasn't very good yet. Her dad was much faster and stronger. He showed her how to do it again and again. "It's not about brute strength, sweetheart," he said, his voice calm, but a muscle twitched in his jaw. "It's about precision and timing."
Liora focused, mirroring his movements. Slowly, she improved. A faint smile played on Nathan's lips, but his eyes held a shadow of concern. The setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange and purple as they practiced, their shared activity a quiet rhythm against the growing stillness of the evening. A single hawk circled overhead, its cry a lonely counterpoint to the rhythmic clash of steel.
"Are we going to do this again tomorrow after my class at school papa?" Liora asked, her breath coming in slightly ragged puffs. The golden light of the setting sun caught the dust motes dancing in the air, making it seem magical.
"Absolutely," her father replied, smiling warmly. "You're showing real progress, Liora. That last parry was almost perfect!"
"But why, Papa?" she whined, a little playfully, her voice laced with the familiar teenage grumble. "It's tiring, and I don't even want to fight anyone."
Nathan knelt, his eyes twinkling. "It's not just about fighting, sweetheart. It's about building inner strength. Look," he said, picking up a smooth, grey stone. "This stone seems small and insignificant, right? But with enough practice, you can throw it farther than you think possible. Swordsmanship is the same. It's about honing your focus, your discipline, your ability to overcome challenges."
He squeezed her hand gently. "Think of each practice session as a tiny victory. Each successful move, each perfect block, is a step towards becoming the best version of yourself. It's about learning to be resilient, to keep trying even when it's hard. These are skills that will serve you well, not just on the training yard, but in everything you do."
Liora looked at the stone, then back at her father, a thoughtful expression replacing her earlier grumpiness. "So, it's like...training for life?"
Nathan's smile widened. "Exactly! And tomorrow, we can explore the Dragon's Leap. But first, let's master the Crane's Flight. Imagine the feeling of accomplishment, the sense of power you'll have when you can execute it flawlessly. It will be incredible!"
Just then, a voice called out from the house, warm and melodious. "Liora, Nathan! Dinner's ready! I made your favorite adobo!"
Nathan chuckled. "Sounds like someone's summoning us for a feast! Come on, my determined little warrior. Let's go home, have a celebratory dinner, and then you can tell me all about your day. And maybe, just maybe, we can even design our own new sword moves!" His voice was full of encouragement and love, a testament to their special bond. He stood, offering her his hand, and together they walked towards the house, the setting sun casting long shadows behind them.
Liora's mind was suddenly filled with flashy images of a horror that she doesn't understand. She stopped from her tracks and let go of her father's grip.
"I'm scared, Papa," Liora whispered, her voice trembling like a leaf in the wind. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring the already fading light.
Nathan knelt instantly, his jaw tightening, his breath catching in his throat. The familiar tightness returned to his chest, a cold dread he hadn't felt in years. He gathered her into his arms, his embrace a haven against the visible chill that emanated from her. "Tell me, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a soft counterpoint to her fear. "What's wrong? What scared you?"
Liora clung to him, her small body shaking. "I saw…I saw pictures in my head papa," she stammered, her words catching in her throat. "They were all mixed up, like a bad dream. There was fire…lots and lots of fire, orange and scary. And people were running…and shouting…but I couldn't hear what they were saying."
Nathan stroked her hair, offering silent support, his own heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He waited, his gaze unwavering, until she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "And there were…stairs. Long, long stairs going up, and down, like those that we have inside the house…and something was dripping down them. It was red…like…like paint, but…sticky. And it smelled…funny." She shivered, her small hand clutching his shirt. "It was all dark and smoky, and I felt…cold. Really, really cold."
Nathan listened, his own breath catching slightly. He didn't interrupt, understanding the fragility of her mind. He felt a familiar tightness in his chest, a cold dread he hadn't felt in years.
"It was just a picture in your head, sweetheart," he said softly, his voice calm and reassuring. "A bad dream, maybe. But you're safe now. You're with me, and nothing can hurt you here." He tightened his embrace, holding her close. "Tell me more about the pictures, if you can. We'll figure it out together. It's okay to be scared, but we'll face it together, okay?" We will, he thought, his heart heavy with a chilling certainty that this was far more than a bad dream.
Liora snuggled closer, the warmth of his body a comforting shield against the lingering chill of her vision. She sniffled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "The red…it looked like…blood," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "But it wasn't…it didn't look like real blood. It was…thicker. And shiny."
Nathan continued to listen, offering gentle reassurances, letting her know that whatever she saw, whatever she felt, he was there for her, a steadfast presence in the face of her fear. He knew he had to help her understand, to help her process this unsettling experience, to protect her from whatever darkness lay ahead. He would be her shield, her comfort, her guide through this frightening unknown.
Nathan held her close, his heart heavy with a mixture of fear and protectiveness. He knew, with a chilling certainty, that her vision was more than just a nightmare. He stroked her hair, whispering soothing words of comfort and reassurance. "It's alright, sweetheart. You're safe now. Tell me more. We'll face this together." He knew he had to prepare her, to help her understand the terrifying glimpse she'd had of the future. He would be her strength, her shield, her unwavering support in the face of whatever darkness lay ahead. "Let's go inside," he said softly, "and talk to Mama. Then we'll have that adobo." He knew, however, that the warmth of the adobo and the comfort of his home wouldn't completely erase the chilling premonition that had gripped his daughter. The wind, indeed, felt very cold.
After dinner, Nathan and Amelia put their daughter to sleep to prepare her for tomorrow's schooling. While Amelia properly put the blanket on their sleeping, Nathan is scanning the surroundings.
Amelia kissed Liora's forehead and saw her sleeping child smile and her face became much more calmer. "Goodnight mama and papa...", Liora utter as she dreams. "Goodnight and sweet dreams my brave sweetheart.", Amelia replied with a smile. She then turned her gaze to her husband that's standing near the window. "It's really windy outside isn't it?", she said while walking towards Nathan.
Amelia's hand rested on Nathan's arm, her touch a silent question. He turned from the window, his gaze locking with hers. The wind howled, a mournful symphony echoing the chilling premonition their daughter had shared. The casual observation about the wind felt utterly inadequate. Amelia knew, with a chilling certainty, that their lives were about to change forever.
"Amelia," he began, his voice low and heavy with unspoken dread, "Liora… her vision… it was… vivid. Too vivid."
Amelia nodded, her eyes reflecting the same fear that mirrored his own. "It was more than a child's nightmare, Nathan. The detail… the specifics… the stairs… the red… it was all so… real." She shivered, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders, the gesture a physical manifestation of the icy fear that had settled over them.
"She's only eleven," Nathan whispered, the words a lament. "How can she… see things… like that? So clearly?"
"It's… it's like she saw something that's going to happen," Amelia said, her voice trembling. "But how can a child… foresee a tragedy?" The thought hung between them, heavy and suffocating. A silence fell, broken only by the mournful howl of the wind outside.
Nathan ran a hand through his hair, the gesture betraying his inner turmoil. He looked at Amelia, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and a grim determination. "It's not just a child's nightmare, Amelia. I know this. I've seen things like this before. Glimpses... fragments... of the future. It's a burden I carry, a terrible burden, and now... it's Liora's too." His voice cracked slightly, the weight of his past experiences and the raw fear for his daughter overwhelming him. The memories of his time with the Holy Order, the visions he'd suppressed for years, flooded back with renewed intensity. He felt a cold dread settle in his gut, a familiar feeling he thought he'd left behind long ago.
Amelia moved closer, her hand finding his. Her voice, though trembling, held a steely resolve. "We have to protect her, Nathan. We have to do everything we can to prevent… whatever she saw. But how? How do we even begin to prepare for something we don't fully understand?" Tears welled in her eyes, but her gaze was unwavering.
Nathan pulled her into a tight embrace, the comfort a fragile shield against the fear that threatened to consume them. He held her close, letting the silent strength of their bond sustain them in the face of the unknown. When he spoke, his voice was thick with emotion, but his words held a fierce determination. "We start by being there for her," he said, his voice hardening with resolve. "We give her the strength she needs, the love she deserves. We teach her to be brave, to be resilient… just like we've been teaching her with the sword. That training... it might be more important than we ever realized."
He pulled back slightly, his gaze hardening with a steely resolve. "This isn't just about comforting her, Amelia. This is about fighting. We're going to fight for her future. We're going to understand this vision, find out what it means, and we're going to do everything in our power to change it. We'll use every resource we have my old contacts, the Order's hidden knowledge, everything. We'll uncover the truth, and we will stop this from happening." His eyes burned with a fierce determination, a promise etched in his gaze. He paused, his expression softening slightly as he looked at their sleeping daughter.
"But even if we fail," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, "even if we fail to prevent what she saw... we will teach her to continue being brave and to continue without us. To face whatever comes, with strength and resilience. We will teach her to fight, not just with a sword, but with her spirit. That's the legacy we'll leave her, Amelia. That's the only thing we can truly control." The wind still howled outside, but within that small room, a quiet, unwavering resolve had taken root, a beacon of hope against the encroaching darkness. The fear remained, but it was now tempered by a fierce, determined love that would not yield.
To be continued...