The Day It All Began.

It all began eight years ago, in a moment that would forever change Vaelorian's life. He was only twelve then—just a boy with big dreams and a curious mind, eager to step into the world of leadership and adventure.

His parents, understanding the importance of experience, had brought him along to a grand event, a gathering of nobles and important figures. They believed that, as a future leader of the empire, Vaelorian needed to learn how to interact with people, to see the world beyond the safety of the castle.

"This will be good for you," his father said, ruffling his hair with a proud smile. "You'll see how people interact with each other, what they value—all the things you'll need someday."

And so, Vaelorian was there, surrounded by glittering banners, Dukes, Duchesses, Lords and everyone, the hum of conversations, and the promise of a fun night. But fate, as it often does, had another plan. Unknown to them—security details were leaked, the venue was compromised, and then chaos erupted.

Vaelorian was stranded and alone, trembling in the face of danger. One of the bad guys was pointing a gun at Vaelorian, eyes cold and unyielding. But just as the trigger was about to be pulled, a small but firm voice broke through the silence.

"Drop it!"

Vaelorian's eyes snapped open. His eyelids had been heavy, waiting for the inevitable, and now he saw… a girl. Well, she was way shorter than him, with long black hair cascading like a waterfall down her back. She stood in front of him, unafraid, her back to him, facing the attacker. Her voice was steady, commanding even—the kind of voice that makes you want to listen, no matter your age.

"Pick it up," she ordered, and the bad guy, almost as if hypnotized, bent down and retrieved the gun. Vaelorian's breath caught in his throat—frozen, unable to move. Then, she said something that chilled him to his core.

"Kill yourself." she said, cold and commanding.

Before Vaelorian could even comprehend what was happening, the bad guy, with a grim resolve, pointed the gun at his own head and pulled the trigger. A deafening bang echoed through the backyard, and for a moment, everything was still. The crowd's panic, the security's shouts—everything faded into a distant hum as Vaelorian watched in shock. The girl slipped away amidst the commotion, vanishing like a shadow into the night.

When the dust settled, the scene was grim. The attacker had shot himself, the gun lying cold and silent on the ground. Vaelorian's parents, frantic and shaken, held him close, trying to comfort their son. But the boy's mind was elsewhere. He couldn't shake the image of that little girl—black hair flowing, eyes full of resolve—who had stood in front of him and changed everything.

"Have you seen her?" Vaelorian asked, voice trembling. His parents looked at him, puzzled. "The girl with long black hair. She saved me. I know she did."

But no one had seen her. No one remembered a girl matching that description. His parents thought he was just traumatized, that maybe his mind was playing tricks on him after such a terrifying ordeal. But Vaelorian knew better. How else could he explain the gunshot? That the attacker had shot himself? It made no sense that he hadn't killed Vaelorian before killing himself.

From that day, Vaelorian's obsession began. Who was she? Why had she saved him? And how could someone so young possess such courage? The questions haunted him. With Sir Eryndor's help—he started a relentless search for his savior. When he was of age he started traveling across the vast empire, searching for her. He visited the Great Houses with daughters too—hoping, praying he'd find someone who matched her description.

Daughters of noble families, street children, or orphans—he checked them all. But nothing. No sign of her. The years stretched on, and doubt crept in. Maybe it had been a vivid hallucination. Maybe he'd imagined her entirely. Yet, deep down, he knew better. The girl with long black hair was real. She was out there.

Vaelorian devoured tales of ancient gifts, of people who could bend minds and manipulate the thoughts of other people. Maybe, just maybe, his savior was one of them. Someone who wanted to keep their gift secret, hidden from the world because such power was dangerous. He even volunteered at a camp, hoping that if the girl had a gift, she might reveal herself among children from all walks of life. Three years passed, and still, he found no trace.

Until one quiet evening, his world shifted again. A new request landed on his desk—an invitation from Commander Jacob Voss asking him if he would be able to assist them with training the kids again this year. Vaelorian had been volunteering there for over three years, watching and waiting, hoping his girl would appear. This year, more kids than ever had arrived, and among them, he saw him—Lord Riven Elric Ashbourne of House Ashbourne.

The boy was beautiful—black hair, pale skin, pouty lips—and eighteen years old. But what caught Vaelorian's attention wasn't just his appearance. It was the faint flicker of something extraordinary in him. The boy possessed not the gift of mind control, but strength—Yet, when Vaelorian looked at him, he saw something else—something familiar, something that tugged at his memories.

Could it be? Could Riven be the boy he'd mistaken for a girl all those years ago? His mysterious savior? Vaelorian's heart pounded with hope, and without hesitation, he packed his bags and traveled across the empire. He needed to see Riven for himself, to confirm the truth.

He requested, almost desperately, to share a room with Riven, to train him, to get close. He needed answers. Who was the real Riven? The more time they spent together, the more he realized he knew nothing about the boy.

Vaelorian knew it was wrong but he wanted to know more so he had Eryndor gather information about the younger boy. He learned about Riven's life—the lonely childhood, the loss of his mother at five, the strict homeschooling by Duke Ashbourne, and the silent battles Riven fought every day. And then, he uncovered another truth—Riven had tried to take his own life.

Vaelorian's heart had ached badly. He was devastated. The person he'd sought with every fiber of his being was hurting, so deeply that he had tried to escape the pain permanently. How could someone so young, so talented, wants to end their lives? He'd been so scared—scared he might've lost Riven forever if he'd succeeded, or that the boy would try again. That's why he stayed by his side, doing everything he could to keep him busy.

Was that the wrong way to go about it? Should he have told Riven everything from the start? Will he even be able to fix what's already broken?

Vaelorian rose from his bed and walked out of the room determined. The corridors buzzed with the quiet hum of other campers, unaware of the storm inside him. Vaelorian's mind was fixed—he was going to find Riven and lay bare his heart. Perhaps, in doing so, Riven would understand why Vaelorian did what he did. Even if it doesn't, at least, it might be a way to help the boy who had saved him all those years ago.

Meanwhile, Riven had just finished reading the information Vaelorian had gathered on the real Riven. His face twisted in frustration. Life for Riven was dull—study after study, routine after routine. His mother's death had left a scar, and he never cut his hair after she passed, because she liked it long.

No wonder the poor kid was pissed when Riven about cutting his hair.

"I'm sorry, dude," he whispered, feeling the weight of it all. The loneliness, the pain—it must have been too much for him to handle alone.

Duke Ashbourne, had homeschooled the real Riven, thinking he was shielding him from the world's dangers—perhaps, but he over did it. Protecting, yes, but also suffocating. That love, as tender as it was, had become the boy's prison.

Riven sighed heavily, rubbing his face as he turned the corner after getting down from the rooftop, that's when he heard Anya's voice—urgent, frantic.

"Oh, Riven! There you are!"

He squinted into the moonlight, recognizing her. "Anya? How did you know it was me?"

"I'm kinda one with nature," she said proudly, and Riven nodded, remembering her gift.

"Hold on… what are you doing here? I thought you didn't want to hang out with me anymore?"

She looked sheepish, then blurted out, "Did you see Prince Vaelorian?"

Riven's brow furrowed. "Vaelorian? Why are you looking for him?"

"I'm not—he's looking for you," she admitted, and Riven's heartbeat accelerated.

Before Riven could say more, he saw her eyes flicker behind him, and suddenly, he rushed forward, yanking her gently but firmly. "Shh—pretend we're making out," he whispered urgently, pressing her to the wall.

Anya squeaked in surprise. "Riven, what—?"

"Shh!" he hushed. "Please!"

Just then, Vaelorian appeared in the moonlight. His eyes widened in shock as he took in the scene—two figures pressed close, caught in a private moment. The moonlight illuminated everything clearly. It was obvious what they were doing. Vaelorian's face fell, and without a word, he turned and disappeared into the shadows.

"He's gone," Anya whispered, and Riven exhaled, relief flooding through him.

"Thanks, I owe you one" he said softly.

"What was that about?" she asked, giving him a pointed look.

Riven hesitated, then shrugged. "Nothing. Just… forget about it." He swiftly excused himself, running down the corridor to escape the questions.

Back in their room, he hesitated outside the door before slipping inside. The room was dark, silent. He sighed in relief—no Vaelorian. Quickly, he showered, climbed into bed, and closed his eyes, hoping to sleep before Vaelorian got back.