A Journey to Uncle Darius

It’s been four years since I’m reborn into this world. Now, I can finally speak without fumbling over words, and, most importantly, I can control my bladder and other bodily functions. That might sound trivial, but trust me—it feels like a major victory. No more embarrassing moments.

I can walk almost perfectly now, and I even run around sometimes, although that tends to end with me flat on my face when I get too excited.

“Orion, start eating,” comes a firm but gentle voice from across the room.

That’s my name now—Orion. They say kids learn slowly, but I’m not really one for taking things slow. I’ve always been a fast learner, or at least that’s what it feels like.

The one urging me to eat my carrots is Anara Add, my mother. She has this calm, steady aura, like nothing rattles her… unless it’s me and Elara causing chaos, which, let’s be honest, happens pretty often. She can be surprisingly strict, though, especially when it comes to food.

I stare down at my plate—a colorful array of vegetables, with bright orange carrots sitting right in the middle. The sun is shining through the large window beside me, casting soft golden light across the dining room.

The smell of freshly baked bread still lingers in the air, mixing with the scent of warm tea that sits untouched on the table near Mom’s seat.

“Elara… Elara… where are you?” Anara calls out, her tone shifting from gentle to slightly exasperated. She’s scanning the room, her green eyes narrowing as she searches for my twin sister.

I glance toward the dining table, trying not to smile. There’s a tiny giggle—soft, mischievous, and unmistakable—coming from beneath the tablecloth.

Yep, that’s Elara for you. She’s hidden herself under there again, probably thinking she’s outsmarted Mom. Spoiler alert: she hasn’t.

Elara is my twin. My storm to balance my calm. She’s a whirlwind of energy, always darting around the house, touching things she’s not supposed to, climbing furniture like it’s a personal obstacle course.

Her hair is an unusual shade—a soft, berry-blue that catches the light like silk, making her look like she’s stepped out of some old myth or story. But right now, all that bright hair is tucked out of sight as she crouches beneath the table, grinning like she’s just pulled off the world’s greatest prank.

“Elara…” Mom calls again, dragging out the last syllable of her name with a warning note.

I can tell she’s getting closer to losing her patience, but there’s also amusement in her voice. That’s how it usually goes—Elara misbehaves, Mom sighs and pretends to be stern, and then Elara flashes that mischievous grin of hers, and everyone forgets what they were even mad about.

I lift a piece of carrot with my tiny fingers, inspecting it like it’s some strange foreign object. It smells earthy, a bit sweet, but I’m not exactly thrilled about eating it. Still, I take a bite anyway. Partly because I know I’ll get “the look” if I don’t, and partly because… well, I guess I don’t mind making an effort every once in a while.

Just as I’m chewing, I spot a familiar flash of blue from the corner of my eye. Elara is peeking out from under the tablecloth, her wide, sparkling ruby-blue eyes locked onto mine. She puts a finger to her lips in a silent “shhh,” then ducks back under, giggling softly.

“Elara, remember your hiding,” I whisper under my breath, trying not to laugh.

Another giggle drifts up from beneath the table—this one even louder. She’s not even trying to stay hidden anymore.

“Elara…” Mom’s voice rises slightly, her hands now on her hips as she surveys the room. I can tell she’s in full Mom Mode now, the one where she knows something’s up but hasn’t quite figured out what it is yet. And then—uh-oh—her eyes land on me.

I freeze, trying to look as innocent as possible. Maybe she won’t notice the barely suppressed smile tugging at my lips. Maybe she won’t realize that I’m totally in on Elara’s little scheme. Maybe—

“You’re hiding her, my little rascal,” Mom says, arching one eyebrow as she crosses the room toward me.

I open my mouth to protest, but before I can say anything, she bends down and lifts the tablecloth—and there’s Elara, curled up beneath the table, grinning from ear to ear.

“Gotcha,” Mom says, pulling her out from her hiding spot as Elara lets out a delighted squeal.

Typical Elara.

Elara, caught red-handed, lets out a high-pitched squeal, squirming with delight as Mom pulls her from under the table.

Her berry-blue hair spills messily around her face, framing her ruby-like eyes, which sparkle with mischievous glee. She kicks her tiny legs in the air, her giggles bouncing off the walls of the dining room like musical notes.

“Gotcha!” Mom says, lifting her effortlessly and cradling her close, her lips pressed into a line as if she’s trying to look stern.

“What am I going to do with you, huh?” she asks, her voice carrying just a hint of exasperation.

Elara wriggles in her arms, still giggling, completely unbothered by having been caught. She knows the drill. This isn’t the first time she’s pulled one of her disappearing acts, and it won’t be the last.

Mom tries to keep up the serious act, but it doesn’t last long. Within seconds, a smile breaks through her feigned sternness, and she’s hugging Elara tightly, rubbing her nose against Elara’s cheek in a playful nuzzle.

“You, my little devil,” she murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to Elara’s forehead. “Always playing tricks on your mama, huh?”

“Hee-hee!” Elara giggles, shaking her head wildly, her hair flying everywhere. Her grin stretches wide, and her eyes shimmer with pure, unfiltered joy. She knows she’s been caught, but she doesn’t care. For her, this is just another round of the endless game she seems to be playing with the whole world.

Mom sets her down gently on one of the small wooden chairs at the dining table, positioning her so she can’t make another quick escape. “Alright, enough games. Eat your food,” she says, raising one eyebrow in a mock-serious expression.

Elara’s grin falters just a little, and her bottom lip juts out in a pout, but she doesn’t protest. She picks up her spoon with exaggerated slowness, poking at the peas on her plate like they’ve personally offended her.

She gives them a long, suspicious stare before shoving a tiny spoonful into her mouth, chewing reluctantly.

I catch her sneaking a glance at me, and when she sees I’m watching, she sticks her tongue out, making a silly face. I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing out loud. Typical Elara. Always finding a way to make even the most boring moments fun.

Mom watches us both for a moment, her stern façade melting into a soft smile. She lets out a quiet sigh, shaking her head like she can’t quite believe the two of us. “You two,” she murmurs affectionately, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

She straightens up and walks toward the bedroom, probably to catch a quick moment of rest before the next inevitable round of chaos. The soft rustle of her dress fades as she disappears down the hall.

I watch her go, a warm feeling blooming in my chest. Even when she’s tired, there’s this quiet, gentle strength about her, like she’s holding the whole world together with nothing but love and patience.

Elara and I might drive her to the edge of her sanity sometimes, but she never lets it show. Somehow, no matter how many games or tantrums or messes we throw at her, she always comes back with that same calm smile.

For a moment, the room is peaceful. Elara actually seems to be eating, which is a minor miracle, and I’m almost starting to relax when Mom’s voice calls out from the bedroom, bright and cheerful.

“Yep! All done… Who wants to go to Uncle Darius’s house?”

She emerges a second later, looking completely refreshed, like she’s just stepped out of a magical portal that zaps away exhaustion. She’s changed into a light blue dress that swishes gently around her ankles, and her hair is tied back neatly, not a single strand out of place.

Elara perks up instantly. Her eyes light up, and she practically launches herself out of her chair, bouncing up and down like a tiny, hyperactive kangaroo.

“Me! Me!” she squeals, throwing her hands up like she’s just won a prize. Her excitement is so contagious that even I can’t help smiling—until I remember where we’re actually going.

Uncle Darius’s house.

I groan inwardly. Oh boy. Why do we have to go to Uncle Darius’s house again? We were just there last week. Besides, I’m still recovering from the exhausting task of surviving Elara’s antics all day. And wasn’t she the one who cried her eyes out just yesterday because she fell off the swing? How is she this energetic already?

While Elara continues bouncing around like she’s just been promised unlimited candy, I stay rooted in my chair, staring down at my plate and hoping—praying—that maybe I can somehow get out of this.

“Orion, what’s wrong?” Mom’s voice softens as she notices me sulking. She walks over, kneeling down so she’s at my level, her brow furrowed with concern. Her dark eyes search my face, and I can see the gentle worry etched into her expression.

This is my chance.

If I play this right—if I act just sick enough—maybe we can skip the visit altogether. Maybe we can stay home and have a quiet day instead of running off to Uncle Darius’s house for another round of noisy family chaos.

I lower my head slightly, letting my shoulders droop as I let out the tiniest, saddest sigh I can manage. “Hmm…” I mumble, keeping my voice quiet and pitiful. I make a point of avoiding eye contact, like it’s just too much effort.

Come on, Mom. Buy it. Please.

Anara’s face softens as she gently presses her cool hand against my forehead, her touch light and careful. The warmth of her palm lingers as she checks my cheeks next, her dark eyes scanning mine as if searching for some hidden sign of illness.

“You don’t have a fever…” she murmurs, brushing a stray lock of my hair aside. Her brows knit together, but not in worry—more like she’s piecing together a puzzle.

“Are you feeling tired, sweetheart?”

I nod again, my shoulders slumping just a little more for effect. I blink up at her slowly, making sure to look as pitiful and exhausted as possible. Maybe this will work… Maybe she’ll take pity on me and let me stay home.

But then, she tilts her head, studying me with that gentle but knowing look only mothers seem to have. There’s a moment of silence before she lets out a soft sigh, a small, amused smile curling at the edges of her lips.

“Orion,” she says, her voice warm but firm, “I think you’re just a little restless from being cooped up in the house all week.”

She ruffles my hair, making it even messier than before, and stands up, her decision clearly made.

“Some fresh air will do you good. Besides, Uncle Darius will be so happy to see you both.”

Ugh. There goes my plan. Once Anara decides something, there’s no getting out of it. I sigh in defeat, my brief hope of escaping the trip vanishing like morning mist.

Elara, on the other hand, is practically bouncing with excitement, her eyes wide and shining like twin gemstones. She catches my eye and grins, sticking her tongue out playfully. I roll my eyes but can’t help the tiny smile tugging at my lips. She’s impossible to stay annoyed at, even when she’s the reason I’m being dragged along.

“Come on, let’s get you two ready,” Anara says, scooping Elara into her arms with effortless ease and giving her a playful spin. Elara squeals with laughter, her berry-blue hair flying around her.

“You’re going to wear your new dress, Elara,” Anara tells her, smoothing down the fabric of her tunic.

“And Orion, let’s find something comfy for you, okay?”

I sigh dramatically, sliding off my chair. It’s clear I’m going to Uncle Darius’s house whether I like it or not. But as Anara helps me into a simple but soft tunic, humming a quiet tune as she ties the sash, I start to think… maybe it won’t be so bad.

If nothing else, Uncle Darius always has interesting stories. Maybe I can survive one more visit.

---------------------------------------------

The sun hangs bright in the sky as Anara carefully secures us to her body—Elara in the front, me on her back. I settle against her, feeling the steady rhythm of her breath and the warmth of her presence.

The gentle sway of her steps is oddly comforting as we leave the house and step into the lively streets of town.

Our small town, nestled between the thick forests to the north and the bustling port to the south, is a place of constant movement.

It wasn’t always like this. Long ago, it was just a resting point for weary travelers escaping the dangers of the deep forest. But as the years passed, it grew into something more—a haven for adventurers, merchants, and wanderers seeking a safe place to trade and rest before continuing their journeys.

Now, the town thrives with energy. The streets are lined with wooden stalls, their colorful banners fluttering in the breeze.

The air is thick with the scents of roasted meat, baked bread, and exotic spices carried from faraway lands.

The sounds of clinking coins, lively chatter, and the occasional burst of laughter weave together into a familiar melody of life.

“Look, Ori! Look at that!” Elara squeals, her tiny fingers pointing excitedly toward a merchant’s stall. My eyes follow her gaze, widening at the sight before me.

A tall man in a worn leather vest stands behind a sturdy wooden table, displaying an array of gleaming swords. The polished blades catch the sunlight, casting brilliant flickers of light that dance across the cobblestone street. Some of the swords are short and broad, others long and slender, each one crafted with exquisite detail.

“Wow…” I breathe, craning my neck to get a better view. The sight of the swords sends a spark of excitement through me.

Nearby, a group of adventurers strides past, their armor gleaming, swords clinking with each step. Their voices rise and fall in animated conversation, their faces lit with excitement as they swap tales of their latest quests. One of them—a tall woman with a curved blade at her hip—laughs loudly, clapping her companion on the shoulder.

“Get your fresh fruits! Sweet apples and juicy pears!” a vendor shouts from the other side of the street, waving a basket overflowing with vibrant produce. His voice carries over the noise of the crowd, cutting through the steady hum of merchants bargaining and customers haggling.

“Five copper each! Best in the city!” another merchant calls, holding up a bright red apple that looks almost too perfect to be real.

The scent of freshly baked bread drifts from a nearby stall, mingling with the savory aroma of something sizzling on an open flame.

My stomach growls faintly, but I ignore it, too distracted by the whirlwind of sights and sounds around me.

The town is alive, buzzing with a restless energy that never truly fades. It’s a place where stories unfold at every corner, where travelers from distant lands bring news of kingdoms I’ve never seen, and where adventure always seems just a breath away.

And yet, as I rest against Anara’s back, feeling the steady rhythm of her steps and listening to Elara’s excited babbling, I can’t help but feel like my own story is only just beginning.

“Can we get some apples, Mama?” Elara pleads, her ruby-like eyes wide and shimmering with hope as she leans forward against Anara’s chest. Her little fingers curl toward the fruit stand as though she can almost grasp one of the shiny red apples from afar.

Anara glances at the stall, her gaze softening briefly before she shakes her head.

“Not today, sweetheart. We have to get to Uncle Darius’s first,” she replies gently, though there’s a firmness beneath her warmth that makes it clear the answer won’t change.

Elara lets out a tiny sigh of disappointment, her lower lip jutting out in an almost-pout, but it doesn’t last long. Her sunny nature won’t be dampened so easily.

“Maybe we can get some later!” she chirps, her voice bubbling with optimism, as though she’s already moved on from the minor setback.

I can’t help but smile at her resilience. Elara has always had a way of bouncing back, no matter what. It’s one of the things I admire about her.

As we continue weaving our way through the bustling market, the cobblestone path gradually leads us deeper into the town, past the lively heart of the marketplace and toward the lower-class noble area

. The change is subtle at first—a slight thinning of the crowds, a shift in the atmosphere—but it becomes more noticeable with every step.

The noise level drops, though the vibrant energy remains in its own quieter way. Here, the people seem to move with more purpose, their gazes lowered, their arms clutching bags tightly to their chests as if guarding precious belongings. A few passersby glance around warily, as though expecting trouble to spring from the shadows at any moment.

Even in this world, money dictates everything. It’s a universal truth that feels just as relevant here as it did in my past life.

I let my gaze drift over the faces of the people we pass—merchants haggling in low voices, mothers tugging their children along, and adventurers clad in armor that’s seen better days. Life moves differently here, less carefree than in the bustling market square.

As we walk, snippets of conversations float toward us, carried on the breeze.

“Did you hear about the new bounty?” a rough-looking man says to his companion, his voice low and conspiratorial. He leans in closer, as if sharing a great secret.

“They say it’s a dragon terrorizing the outskirts!”

“A dragon?” his friend replies, his eyes widening with a mix of fear and excitement. “You’re pulling my leg!”

“I’m telling you, it’s real! Ten gold pieces for its head!” the first man insists, his voice tinged with greed. “Think of what we could do with that kind of money!”

I glance at Elara just in time to see her eyes light up with excitement. She wriggles in her sling, her little fingers stretching toward the group of adventurers like she wants to join them right then and there.

“I want to be a dragon slayer when I grow up, Ori!” she announces suddenly, her voice ringing out loud and clear.

I blink, caught off guard by the sudden declaration, and then I chuckle.

“Is that what you want to be? I thought you wanted to be a princess!” I tease, looking back at her with a raised eyebrow and a grin.

Elara’s face lights up even more, and she puffs out her chest proudly. “Both! I can be a princess who slays dragons!” she declares with such confidence that it’s impossible not to believe her.

I laugh, shaking my head in amusement. “Well, if you ever need a knight to protect you, I’ll be there,” I say, my tone light but sincere.

Her eyes sparkle, and she squeals with delight. “You can be my knight! Yes!”

There’s such pure joy in her voice that it makes my chest swell with pride. In moments like this, it’s easy to forget all the worries and just be a kid—just be her brother.

As we move further along, the familiar sight of Uncle Darius’s house comes into view. It’s a cozy, inviting cottage nestled at the edge of the neighborhood, its stone walls partially covered by climbing ivy and colorful blooming flowers.

The roof, made of dark wooden shingles, slopes gently, and the windows glint in the sunlight. Smoke curls lazily from the chimney, carrying with it the faint scent of freshly baked bread.

A wave of warmth washes over me at the sight. Uncle Darius’s house has always felt like a safe haven—a place where laughter, good food, and silly stories are always in abundance.

“Here we are!” Anara announces brightly, her voice full of warmth and cheer. She adjusts the sling, making sure Elara and I are secure, and then steps up to the front door.

She raises her hand and knocks lightly, the sound echoing softly against the stone walls. “Ready to see Uncle Darius?” she asks, turning to us with a smile.

“Ready!” Elara shouts, her enthusiasm bubbling over once again. Her eyes are wide with anticipation, and she practically vibrates with excitement as we wait for the door to open.