Once Upon A Time (Is This The Real Beginning?)

Ghorra, minutes earlier

You are not ready for this, Aine!”

The voice boomed, thick with challenge. Aine’s body stiffened at the familiar sound, and she turned, her red hair flicking in the air like a blaze. There, standing with his broad shoulders squared and fists clenched tight enough to crack stone, was Robert. His square jaw was set, his face flushed, and his lips spread into a grin—eager for conflict. His knuckles cracked in rapid succession, a sound like the snapping of sticks under heavy boots.

Aine’s eyes narrowed, the flicker of irritation in her gaze. She didn’t bother with words at first. Instead, she let out a sharp, resigned sigh as she dropped the wooden crate she was carrying. It hit the gravel with a dull thud, scattering dust into the air. Her hands landed on her hips, the motion casual but firm, her posture unyielding. She frowned deeply.

“Robert,” she began, her voice calm but full of a controlled edge that cut through the tension, “You are by no means anywhere near ready to tackle someone like me. Your absurd obsession with trying to beat me has not gone unnoticed, and it’s starting to bug me.”

Her words cut through the air, but Robert didn’t back down. Instead, he planted his feet firmly in the gravel and dropped into an intro fighting stance. The arrogance on his face only grew stronger. He was determined to prove something that Aine was clearly not interested in.

“You think you’re better than me at Kulxi?” He decided to poke the bear with this approach. “This martial art—my family’s tradition—has been passed down for generations. I won’t let some orphan my grandfather felt sorry for come in and ruin the legacy of my bloodline!”

Aine’s eyes darkened, the flicker of anger that had been simmering beneath the surface flaring to life. Her gaze, normally cool and calculating, now held the unmistakable spark of fury.

Robert saw Aine’s feature shift from frustration to anger, and he internally suddenly was regretting calling her out like that.

This…she actually seems mad…but I do not know how else to get her attention! If only she paid attention to me I would need not to insult her.

“You are pathetic Robert, if you so clearly wanted to get my attention, this lame attempt at challenging me to fight to try to impress or bond with me is not working at all, especially if you insult me.”

Robert’s face fell, the weight of Aine’s words crashing down on him like a heavy stone. His stomach twisted in discomfort as he realized that, without a doubt, she had seen straight through him. His pride stung as he looked at her.

She knew. She always was perceptive like that.

Aine stood motionless, her gaze unwavering as she proceeded to calmly continue.

“This is childish,” she said softly, her voice cutting through the tension. “You know I will defeat you in any bout, Robert. But if you genuinely want to spend time with me, or try and woo me, do it without this pathetic mating ritual.”

The words hit Robert like a cold wave, sweeping away the heat of his earlier declaration. His throat tightened, the weight of his own actions pressing down on him. He opened his mouth to respond, but the words tumbled out in a blur, raw and unfiltered.

“But… it would be degrading for me… for someone of my family’s status to... to state my feelings to a commoner like you!”

The words escaped before he could stop them, and immediately, his hand slapped over his mouth. His heart pounded in his chest as he regretted the slip.

Aine didn’t react immediately. Instead, she simply sighed—a long, heavy exhale that seemed to carry the weight of everything unsaid. Her face softened, but it wasn’t sympathy that flickered in her eyes.

Without saying another word, Aine bent down and picked up the box she had dropped earlier. As she lifted the box and began walking, there was no more lingering anger in her steps, just a state of disappointment from the conversation.

“Please,” she spoke once more, her voice steady and firm and not looking back as she walked away. “Do not talk to me like that again, Robert. You already know we are far too different. And if you’re not willing to sacrifice for the sake of your feelings, then is it even real?”

Her words hung in the air, and Robert stood still, rooted to the spot, his mind a whirl of confusion and shame. His immature attempts of “bonding” seemed to tragically tarnish this young man’s confidence. Now he either could heal and move on from this incident or go down the less healthier coping mechanism of hatred.

Just as his thoughts began to spiral, a loud crash suddenly tore through the quiet. The sound was jarring, coming from every direction at once, as if the very earth itself had cracked open.

Aine’s eyes snapped to the source of the sound, her expression shifting to focused urgency. Her gaze was hard as she scanned the horizon, searching the source for the noise.

Her eyes zoomed in on the rising plume of dark smoke, thick and heavy, swirling into the sky from the direction of the marketplace. The sight of it made her pulse quicken, and without a moment’s hesitation, she started running.

Her legs moved like instinct, powerful and swift, the box still gripped tightly in her hands. She was already on the move before she could even fully process what was happening.

Behind her, Robert hesitated. The confusion still clouded his mind, the sting of Aine’s words still fresh on his mind, but he had always looked up to Aine. She was his hero, even if he never knew how to express it; and if she was not afraid, so shall he not be. And so, despite everything, he followed her.

*****

Ghorra, 7 years ago

“Where are you, sweet Aine?” The elderly man muttered under his breath, his voice raspy with age, as he shuffled slowly through the dimly lit corners of his small, weathered house. His once nimble fingers, now stiff and trembling, brushed against the rough walls as he searched every crevice.

Once, he had been a legend—a master of Kulxi, an ancient martial art passed down through generations in his family. But time had stolen much from him; the strength of his arms and the sharpness in his eyes. These days, he found himself far from the battlefield, his hands now more accustomed to the work of running the family business—farming.

The farm, vast by village standards, was the heart of Ghorra, a small, peaceful settlement on the fringes of the kingdom of Rhandim. While their farm was small compared to the grand estates of wealthier traders further inland, here, it was everything. It provided for their neighbours, kept the village bustling, and supported the community. But the family's success was mostly hidden behind the simplicity of their quiet existence, and the man, now in his final years, handled things with the steady patience of someone who had seen so much.

He creaked into the modest kitchen and stopped, blinking his weary eyes at the figure crouched by the fireplace.

Aine was there, just as he had expected. The girl, no older than eleven, was tending to her bruised arms and legs, wincing slightly as she carefully applied a solution to the angry, purple-blue marks left from her morning training. Her hair, a fiery mop, framed a face that radiated a fierce determination. Despite the pain she was nursing, Aine looked proud—eyes sparkling with the fire of someone who wasn’t easily deterred.

“Aine,” he said again, his voice now tinged with a mix of affection and concern. She looked up, her eyes meeting his, bright and full of life, yet shadowed with a resolve that made him smile despite himself.

“I'm here, Grandpa,” she said, her voice steady, to hide the small winces she let out from the pain.

He limped over to her, his gaze falling to the bruises as he reached out, lightly brushing her shoulder.

“Still pushing yourself too hard, hm?” he murmured, his fingers gently tracing the marks, his touch careful, as if trying to prevent further damage.

She shrugged, a flicker of a smile playing on her lips despite the tenderness of her injuries. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

He paused, the question on his mind

Aine, as perceptive as usual, answered the question that quelled in his head.

“Yes, Robert and the others do tend to be a bit rough on me, I bet though they are just jealous of my skills.”

The old man sighed as what he had feared was true.

He sat beside her, and Aine stalled her treatment, focusing on him to see what wisdom he may drop.

“I apologise for them. The family tends to think I am not fit to be head anymore and try to undermine me all the time. Greed is a horrible sin, and it plagues a lot of the members in my house. I can only see the future being bleak if I let them have total control of the business and the family’s secret arts…”

His gaze turned to her as he told her this. It was too heavy a burden to place on such a small child, but if he did not inform of her of his intentions, he could not bare seeing the innocent and driven child he fostered be poisoned by those around.

Aine seems to understand the undercurrent of the conversation, what needed to be done.

“Do not worry grandpa, I am going to support you, regardless of what happens.”

The old man sent her a gentle smile, his mind though in turmoil in what he was doing.

Such a young soul, to be faced with prejudice due to my attention to her, I am too cold a man to not give her any respite, but for my selfish desire to see the family business prosper, this must be done.

“There will come a time when this will be your past sweetheart, where you will see…your worth will be realised.”

Aine smiled and nodded, her mood lifting hearing the man seem to sense great potential in her.

“No worries grandpa, there is so much I want to do when I grow up!”

The old man sighed happily, listening to her now talk about her dreams as he rested his head on the wall, at peace.

*****

Ghorra, present time

There, from where the smoke was emerging in the centre of the market, nestled was a crater. Within it lay something that could alter the course of history as the people there knew it.

At the centre of the crater, was an unconscious boy, his body sprawled on the ground. He wore strange, foreign clothing that didn’t seem familiar to any of the onlookers.

Miraculously, he had landed amidst the stalls but had not crushed a single one. The vendors, now frozen in shock, gaped at the scene as the boy’s still form lay at the centre.

“Is he the chosen one? Could this be him?” the hushed voices of the crowd murmured as the word spread.

Clearly a boy falling from the perceived heaven was a sure sign for such.

Aine, pushing through the crowd, finally reached the edge of the crater, her heart racing in time with the rapid beat of her curiosity. The gathering swelled with anticipation as she leaned over to peer at the boy. His breathing was shallow, but he was alive. Not dead, but unconscious.

what the hell did this mean?