Narrator:


    “This is Seacrest, a peaceful village on the shores of the nation Velora. A land once filled with darkness, now flourishing, thanks to eight legendary heroes. They appeared from places unknown, united to liberate these lands from tyranny. Their names have been etched into history, their deeds shaping the world Acki now calls home.”


    The scene shifts to a quiet, sunlit field just outside the village. Among the tall grass and distant mountains, a young boy lay on his back, his face buried in a worn, leather-bound book.


    Acki’s thoughts swirled as he read, his eyes wide with wonder. So this is the secret to magic? Visualization… concentration… His heart quickened. A smile tugged at his lips, curiosity dancing in his gaze.


    “Hey, Acki!” his mother’s voice rang from the house, cutting through his thoughts. “Lunch is ready!”


    He sat up quickly, marking the page with a blade of grass. “Coming, Mom!” he called back, springing to his feet and dashing toward the cottage. His mind was still racing with thoughts of magic, but the scent of honeyed toast grounded him in the moment.


    As he washed his hands and joined his mother at the table, he couldn’t help but ask, “Any letters from Dad?”


    His mother hesitated, her smile faltering ever so slightly. “Not yet, dear. But he’ll send one soon, I’m sure.”Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    Acki nodded, biting into his toast. “I miss him. He promised he’d bring me a new book on magic.”


    “He’ll be home soon,” she reassured him, though her voice carried a hint of uncertainty. “Now eat up before it gets cold.”


    The next morning, Acki stood alone in the field, determination in his eyes. He held out his hand, reciting the words from his book.


    “I call upon the flames of the sun—Fireball!”


    A small flicker of flame appeared in his palm before sputtering out. His shoulders slumped in disappointment. “That was… lame.” He frowned, staring at his hand. “Maybe if I yell louder…”


    He tried again, but the result was the same. A tiny flame, then nothing.


    “Ugh, maybe magic isn’t for me,” Acki muttered, tossing the book aside. He picked up a stick, swinging it half-heartedly through the air. “Dad’s a swordsman, after all. Maybe I’m more like him.”


    Just as he was about to give up, his mother’s voice called from the house again. “Acki! A letter from your father!”


    Acki’s heart leapt. “Really? I’m coming!” He sprinted home, kicking up dust as he raced through the fields. He burst through the door to find his mother standing at the table, the letter already in her hands.


    She was trembling.


    Acki’s excitement faded as he watched her slowly unfold the letter. Her eyes scanned the words, and the color drained from her face.


    “Mom…?” Acki stepped closer, his voice barely a whisper. “What does it say?”


    Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks as she dropped the letter to the floor.


    Acki’s world froze. His mother’s sobs filled the room, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably. He could only stand there, helpless, as the realization hit him like a blow to the chest.


    Days passed, but the warmth in their home was gone. His mother had changed, her grief turning into something darker. She stopped smiling. She stopped cooking. She barely spoke to Acki. Instead, strange men began visiting the house, and his mother sank deeper into despair.


    Acki sat alone in his room, staring at the magic book he once treasured. I don’t understand… he thought, his chest tight with confusion. Mom was never like this before… He clenched his fists, his mind drifting back to the letter—the one that had shattered their lives.


    Dad’s not coming back…


    His mother’s muffled sobs echoed from the other room, and Acki buried his face in his hands, wishing he could make sense of it all.