The Reapers : Sons of the Void

Leonhardt – Night, the Silence of the Palace

A day full of training, sweat, conversations, and the reverberations of crystals… All of it was now behind them. The palace halls lay cloaked in darkness, with only a few pale torches casting trembling light across the walls. Miller and Brien withdrew to their chambers wordlessly, heavy with exhaustion. The doors closed. Night finally surrendered the two strangers to silence.

Miller's Room

The stone walls were cold. Moonlight filtered through the window over the palace's courtyard. Miller sat on the edge of his bed, carefully placing his sword on the floor and resting his forehead on his knees.

"I don't recognize myself anymore. This power… does it truly belong to me? Or was it forced upon me?"

He covered his eyes with his hand and remembered the moment from that morning. His eyes had changed—an orange flame writhed in the darkness.

"Even Felix seemed startled. Brien said nothing—maybe he felt something. But… what if I am a threat? What if I harm them? Brien?"

Miller slowly lifted his head. In his empty gaze something stirred—a distant echo from his past that felt unnervingly close.

"But Brien… he was by my side. He smiled. It was like he watched over me, trying to assure me. Perhaps he stayed silent because silence can speak volumes."

Brien's Room

Brien lay diagonally across his bed, hands resting beneath his head, staring at the carved stone ceiling. His eyes were open, but his soul drifted elsewhere.

"Miller… that one is different. Even his silence is different. His eyes sometimes flare, yet there's something much darker within. But I'm not fearful—I respect him."

He shifted slightly, gripping the edge of his pillow.

"I laugh to endure this. But he… he absorbs everything—even fear. Maybe that's why… he's so powerful."

"One day… something will explode inside him. And I'll be there. Because Miller shouldn't face this alone. This isn't a path one walks by oneself."

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes—but sleep would not come.

That night, while Leonhardt Palace slept, only thoughts echoed through the rooms of the two warriors. Behind their eyes, where words couldn't reach, a bond quietly formed.

—

Under the Shadows, A New Identity

Leonhardt – Morning, General Felix's Room

Sunlight gently kissed the stone walls of the palace, streaming through high towers and illuminating the gold-threaded carpets of Leonhardt. General Felix gazed out a large window in his office, one hand folded behind him and the other lightly touching his chin. His thoughts were complex and close—thoughts of Miller and Brien.

"They're not just talented—they're dangerous too. And Leonhardt cares more about appearances than power."

A soft knock at the door broke his focus.

"Come in," Felix said, turning.

A guard entered, bowed respectfully: "My lord, King Pendragon is ready for the morning audience. He awaits you in the throne hall."

Felix nodded, wearing a simple yet noble tunic instead of armor. He took a steady breath and stepped toward the hall.

Pendragon's Throne Hall – Early Morning

The hall was empty except for King Pendragon, standing before his throne with a document in hand. Felix approached, and the king looked up.

"I've approved their enrollment in the Academy," Pendragon said, "but…" He paused, pointing to the paper. "These two still lack any official identity. And the Leonhardt Academy does not admit those with unknown origins."

Felix bowed his head.

"I know, Your Majesty. After your permission, I will assign them a family. A temporary surname must be honorable—not counterfeit."

Pendragon fixed him with a serious gaze.

"Felix. These are more than just children. They are symbols. And symbols cannot live unseen among the people. Place them with a family—but choose wisely. Trust-worthy, few."

Felix inclined his head.

"As you command, Majesty."

Felix's Room – Moments Later

The room held a wooden table, maps on the wall, and two spare swords in the corner. Felix sat at the table, looked toward the closed door, and finally spoke:

"Bring them in."

The door opened. Miller and Brien entered side by side, wearing everyday clothes but with eyes that betrayed sleepless nights.

Brien whispered wryly, "Hope they won't make us sword-fight again this morning—my arm still feels numb…"

Miller replied softly, "We'd better stay serious. Felix doesn't usually smile unless he means trouble."

Felix surveyed them before speaking:

"I didn't have you sit because this will be brief."

Brien quipped, "That sounds like the prelude to bad news."

Felix remained composed:

"I have the king's permission to register you in the Academy. But on one condition."

The pair looked startled—Brien raised an eyebrow; Miller focused silently.

"Every student here must have a backstory in the eyes of Leonhardt's people. Those without surnames are either fugitives or cursed. As of now, you two are officially 'surname-less.'"

Miller ventured, "So… someone will 'adopt' us?"

"No," Felix clarified. "Not adoption in name—an aristocratic family I trust will take you under their protection. That way, you can attend the Academy without drawing unwanted attention."

"Will we know them?" Brien asked.

"Not yet. But you will. And most importantly… they will come to know you."

Miller, with concern: "What if they question our origins, ask why we're… different?"

Felix paused, met Miller's gaze, and said:

"Then you will learn silence. Speaking truth before its time only gives the enemy power."

They both nodded, understanding that this new identity was both a shield and a mask.

"With that settled," Felix continued, "we depart tomorrow morning. I will introduce you to the family, then you will step into the Academy."

Brien cracked a joke: "Hopefully they aren't too strict. As long as they don't cut their omelets with swords at breakfast."

Miller smiled: "Maybe this time… we'll learn how to act 'normal.'"

Felix nodded, a subtle smile crossing his face: "In this palace, no one is normal—only those who play the part survive."

—

On the Road: Two Warriors in the City

Leonhardt – Outside the Palace Gate, Later in the Morning

The heavy stone gates opened. Miller and Brien, having left General Felix's presence, began walking toward the city center. A light breeze drifted through the tall towers' shadows. Onlookers included soldiers saluting and curious citizens seeking to recognize them.

Brien leaned toward Miller quietly:

"See that guy—he stared at us three times. Either I look familiar… or maybe I'm just too handsome."

Miller chuckled:

"Or maybe with all that palace dust and sweat, people think we're nobility—no, vagabonds."

Brien rolled his eyes:

"If I'm a vagabond, you're the Dark Lord's laundryman."

They laughed and stepped into a busy street filled with market stalls, the scents of fruit, fabrics, and spices.

Shrugging, Brien said:

"I still can't digest Felix's wording—'placed under a family's protection.' Sounds… odd. Like putting a blanket over a child."

Miller answered:

"They shield us. Without a surname, walking into the Academy would be like stepping barefoot on shards."

Brien reflected:

"I've always stood out—it's nothing new. But… it's the first time someone else will give me a surname. Strangely, I never thought about that."

Miller paused thoughtfully:

"Me neither."

They stopped at an elderly woman's apple stall. Brien took a slice, smiling:

"Are we as sweet as these?"

Squinting, the woman replied:

"Sweet children often spell trouble."

Miller added:

"Maybe that's why we recoil from the idea of belonging—we never felt like we belonged to anyone."

They found a low wall overlooking the city's outer walls and sat. Birds flew below; the city spread at their feet.

Brien sighed softly:

"Still… I like this feeling. The unknown. Starting from nothing. In this city, we have no past—but maybe we have a future."

Miller nodded:

"And we're no longer alone."

Brien grinned and winked:

"Then let's move forward together, Mr. Nameless."

Miller laughed:

"Soon we'll have surnames. And who knows… maybe we'll become more than warriors here."

Brien asked:

"Like what?"

Miller shrugged:

"Friends. Brothers. Heroes, maybe. Or… troublemakers."

They laughed and rose. Sunlight warmed their faces as they continued down Leonhardt's streets—toward new identities, new roles, and perhaps the first lines of a destiny waiting to be written.

Leonhardt – Midday on the Kingdom's Streets

Sunlight streamed over the two strangers like gold. Secrets and shadows trailed each step. Nameless. Without heritage. But the pen of fate was already beginning its gradual script.

Voice of Narration (calm, literary):

"And so… Miller, carrying in silence the mystery of three souls within him, moved forward; Brien, wearing his classic nonchalant grin. Which of them was stronger, only time would tell. But the eyes never lied—Miller's eyes glowed with the dark fire of destiny."

Brien halted, looking upward:

"Here you go again!"

Narrator (surprised):

"What? Me?"

Brien snapped:

"Yeah, you—and your dramatic way of praising Miller's fiery destiny. Just shut up!"

Narrator (smilingly teasing):

"Brien… you're talented too. Remember this morning's training—when you held your sword upside-down?"

Brien pointed a finger:

"That was 'tactic'! A tactic! Who are you to question my tactical insight?!"

Narrator:

"I am the narrator. You're just the sidekick… but don't worry, every hero has a jester."

Brien furious:

"A JESTER?! I'm a legend wielding wit!"

Narrator:

"Of course… wit. No doubt, you once philosophized 'The earth reclaimed it' when an apple fell."

Brien roared:

"Enough! How do I keep my dignity in this story?!"

Miller, laughing so hard he gasped for air:

"Sorry… but 'the earth reclaimed it' is still hilarious."

Brien threw his hands to his head:

"How will I stay serious in this story?! Will I be the glasses-wearing corner character?!"

Miller hooked his arm in Brien's:

"Come, corner man—let's go eat an omelet."

Brien declared dramatically:

"One day I'll bring you down, Narrator! This tale isn't over!!"

Chapter 8: The Letter Behind the Shadows

Leonhardt – General Felix's Study, Sunset

As the day's last light filtered through deep brown curtains, General Felix dipped his pen in ink and poised it above a blank parchment. Words already formed in his mind. He inhaled, then began to write:

"Dearest sister, Baroness Velora,

Matters in Leonhardt have grown more complex than anticipated. The two young guests personally summoned by King Pendragon possess the potential to shape the fate of the kingdom. I believe it is time to seek your wisdom and experience.

If you agree, I plan to visit your duchy within seven days—with the king's knowledge. My stay will be brief. I have questions… and perhaps face to share some silence.

Also… how is Arwen? Seeing her would do me good.

With respect and longing,

General Felix"

Felix set down his pen and stared at the parchment a moment before folding it. He took a slow breath and leaned back in his chair. The room was silent, as always.

His inner voice whispered:

"Arwen… my little sister. Though 'half-sister' feels too cold. She's one of the rare comforts this world has offered me. She was raised with our sister Velora at the duchy, but she carried her own quiet joy… perhaps the only other person like me."

He rose and carried the letter to the palace mail desk. Standing before the door, he traced the corner of the parchment lightly and squinted thoughtfully.

"Be ready, Arwen. Brother is coming."

Leonhardt – Sixth Morning

Sunlight touched the palace walls as a new day began. Brien awoke upside-down in bed, stretching his arms, while Miller packed his few belongings.

Brien, half-asleep:

"Do we really have to go? I'm perfectly comfortable living in my imagination…"

Miller, tightening his belt:

"Too comfortable. Felix said 'light armor'—and you brought towels and a joke book?"

Brien pulled out a wooden toy and said proudly:

"This is a keepsake, Miller. And—this isn't a joke book, it's Comical Events in Great Kingdom Histories. Academic."

Miller shook his head, smiling. He knew Brien took nothing too seriously—but even so, traveling with him felt oddly comforting.

Miller said: "Let's go. We're meeting Felix in the courtyard—and we're already late."

Leonhardt – Palace Courtyard, That Morning

General Felix stood alone in the wide stone courtyard, dressed in simple travel armor with an unusual stillness in his expression. His gaze wandered beyond the palace gates, to a thought deeper than the horizon: Could Arwen accept these two boys? Could they accept her?

Footsteps approached.

Brien, yawning and hands in pockets, called out:

"So… we're off to the duchy. No clue what's there, but it sounds cool."

Miller, more serious:

"My armor's ready, my water's packed. How long will it take?"

Felix, now smiling subtly:

"Three days by horseback, through forest. To your duchy—east beyond the mountains."

Brien cheered:

"Mountains, forests, long trips! Hope we don't meet giants. Last time they thought Miller was a spider."

Miller raised an eyebrow:

"One more comment and I'll cartwheel you like a wheel."

Felix watched their banter and thought silently: "Loneliness changes shape when you're not alone."

Felix declared:

"Let's go."

And so, the trio left the palace in the morning sun, stepping into the pages of a new story.

Leonhardt – Royal Balcony, Late Morning

High above, flags fluttered against a breeze. King Pendragon stood leaning against the marble railing, watching the figures of Brien, Miller, and Felix depart in the courtyard below. Quiet and pensive, he was joined by his steward, Elder Elden—his silent confidant since childhood.

Pendragon asked, "Elden… are these the children destiny spoke of?"

Elden, after a deep breath: "Majesty… when I first saw them, I felt in their eyes both alienation and belonging. One covers darkness with a grin, the other measures light with solemnity… but both bear unrecognized burdens."

Pendragon quietly mused: "We need them... more than anything."

Elden spoke slowly: "Majesty, some opposed their arrival—'What are two street children doing in the heart of the kingdom?' But I saw... You need not swords, but a glance that echoes ancient times: Reaper blood, Vartikan flame, Nebulis' silence... It's no curse—it's a fractured shard of fate."

Pendragon wondered: "Are they ready?"

Elden responded: "No. But their unreadiness makes them right. True warriors embark before they're ready. They find themselves along the path. And these children… they will fall. Many times. But when they rise, Leonhardt will accept them not just as guests—but as legacy."

Pendragon looked afar, then lowered his head: "I hope you're right, Elden. May they remain unbreakable."

Elden: "They may be young, but sometimes souls grow old before anyone notices. Their spirits are worn—but now you've touched them. The rest… the pen of destiny will write."

A breeze drifted through the balcony's columns. Pendragon stepped away from the railing and whispered:

"May your path be blessed, Miller… Brien…"

On the Road – Southeast Leonhardt, Second Day

Narrator:

Three shadows marched beneath the morning sun: one steady, bearing the weight of his past; one grinning as he walked the world; and the third, wrapped in silence yet hiding volumes behind his eyes.

Forest appeared first, with mossy stones and dappled light. Birds left songs on the path. Inched into view on the distant horizon stood silent peaks.

Felix led; Brien tugged on a hanging vine; Miller followed, silent and vigilant.

They spoke sparingly. Miller's eyes scanned for signs—tracks, quietness, the wind's swirl. With every step, another fragment of his other self awakened.

Brien whistled softly, named trees aloud: "This one suits you—tall, quiet." Felix struggled not to smile.

They didn't notice it, but each hour brought them closer—friendship forming as silence was shared.

The road narrowed, then became a rocky dirt trail. The breeze tousled their hair.

Afternoon of the second day: Brien suddenly stopped.

"There—on that ridge—something's shining. An eye?"

Miller looked up, whispered, "Don't be afraid, Brien."

Felix slowly reached for his sword and said quietly: "Be ready. You never know—this is how lessons come."

Same Day – Sunset in the Forest Clearing, Camp

Narrator:

Night settled as they reached a clearing. The forest's hush weighed on their steps. They found a sheltered spot and made camp.

Miller checked the perimeter. Felix lit a small fire. Brien stretched, hugging a tree, claiming the trees loved him more.

Miller observed: "They might, Brien—because you don't speak to them."

Brien grinned: "It's fine. A silent kind of love."

They settled: dried meat and bread from Felix, Miller checked water, Brien lay back, whistling at the sky. Stars appeared. Sparks drifted upward from the fire.

Felix spoke solemnly: "This journey will reveal more than where you're going."

Miller replied: "We know. We'll learn not only where we're headed—but who we are."

Brien, eyes closed: "I've already found myself. Sleeping helps."

Narrator:

The wind whispered, the fire crackled—three hearts tacitly drawing closer. Tomorrow might be harder, but tonight was for rest. And perhaps, for the first time, loneliness echoed the same in each of them.

Night – Around the Campfire

Narrator:

Darkness swallowed the clearing. Firelight danced across three faces and their shadows.

Felix added a log, then spoke, voice carrying a quiet nostalgia:

"On my first mission, I was sixteen like you. I went alone to a border village. No banner, just leather armor and a basic steel sword. My father didn't even know I departed. Back then I wasn't a general—only a watchman."

Brien teased: "How many monsters did you single-handedly kill? Tell us a heroic tale before Miller falls asleep."

Miller shook his head: "I'm listening."

Felix continued: "There was no monster—just a dangerous situation. The villagers had gone silent. When I arrived, doors were open, stoves cold. I thought it was magic or mass flight. Then I found them hiding in an old well—men, women, children. The kidnappers were men once Leonhardt soldiers—disciplined and emotionless. One snarled, 'You still smell like a boy.'"

Narrator:

The fire crackled loud. Brien went quiet; Miller lowered his eyes.

Felix said: "I fought. Terrified, sweating—but with each blow I grew. Finally, I helped them escape. I waited until reinforcements came."

Brien spoke softly: "So you didn't fight alone. You chose to be alone."

Felix looked at them steadily: "Maybe. But sometimes loneliness is needed to find your place. And sometimes two strangers come together… build a campfire… and that void starts to shrink."

Miller asked: "Is that why you chose to stay with us?"

Felix answered: "No. It was an order. But… continuing this journey is my choice."

The fire crackled again. Only the stars responded. And in that moment, three travelers found themselves quietly drawing nearer. A friendship may not have been born yet—but its seed had been planted in silence.