Twelve years had passed since Euryale was reborn, and the village nestled between the green valleys and glittering sea had become his whole world. Peace defined their lives, colored with the gentle rhythm of seasons, meals shared at sunset, and laughter echoing from the fields. He was now twelve—a boy on the cusp of transformation, though he didn't yet know how deep the change would go.
Their home was filled with warmth. Salah continued his work by the sea, and Xena, though once frail, had become strong again, raising their three children with gentle wisdom. Silas was eight, full of energy and always asking questions, while little Lyra, five, was already trying to match her brothers step for step. Euryale loved them with a heart that had long forgotten other lives, other names. To him, Salah and Xena were his parents. That truth lived in his bones.
Today was special. The village buzzed with excitement. Every four years, people from faraway realms arrived for the qualification event—a ceremony where children who had reached the age of twelve could awaken their Mana Core. With it, they would gain access to magic and the path to becoming a student of the greater disciplines taught beyond their world. For many, it was the first step toward a destiny far larger than the village.
Euryale stood on a hill above the village, gazing down at the rows of colorful tents and banners fluttering in the wind. Representatives from distant realms had come—some cloaked in shimmering robes, others in garments stitched with strange symbols. Magic vibrated in the air like a silent song.
A young girl stood at the edge of the hill beside Euryale. She had copper skin and thick braids tied with beads made of bone and crystal. Her name was Amara, and she was from the Zephyr Isles—a land known for their sky-dancers and wind-mages. She had only arrived two days earlier but had already become a curious friend.
"You ever seen this many people in one place?" she asked, squinting toward the festival grounds.
"Never," Euryale replied. "It feels like the world's come to us."
"It has," she said. "This village is the gate. The choosing ground. Realms are always watching. Especially for someone like you."
He looked at her, puzzled. "Like me?"
Amara shrugged with a grin. "Don't play humble. There's something different about you. I can feel it. You're... quiet, but there's power in the way you carry yourself. Like someone who remembers storms but lives in calm."
Euryale frowned slightly, unsure how to respond. "Maybe I just like the quiet."
"Maybe," Amara replied, glancing at him sideways. "Or maybe your quiet is louder than most people's shouting."
Before he could respond, Silas ran up the hill, panting. "Euryale! Ma says breakfast's ready! She made honey flatcakes! Hurry!"
Amara smiled as Euryale turned. "Don't keep your kingdom waiting, hero."
They returned home, where Xena was already setting the table. Her hands moved with practiced ease, her smile never fading. She looked at Euryale and touched his cheek. "You're growing so fast. I swear you were just a toddler yesterday."
Salah entered, his boots damp with sea spray. "Big day today," he said with pride. "Your mother and I will be there, watching."