"Some bonds are older than memory.
Older than names.
Older than time itself.
And when fate wants two souls to meet again—
it rearranges the universe."
⸻
Barony of Lythmoor — 8 Years Later
Kayden Fross Lythmoor — age 8.
The morning sun spilled across rolling green hills as though someone had taken a giant paintbrush and drenched the whole valley in gold.
Kayden sat on the wooden fence overlooking the family's farmland, swinging his legs like a kid who absolutely had better things to do than chores.
His silver eyes—still weird to literally everyone in Lythmoor—reflected the clear sky, bright and curious. Birds perched around him like he was their unofficial mayor. Butterflies hovered near his hands like he emitted some sort of "friendly little dude" aura.
He sighed dramatically.
"I swear this place is too quiet," he muttered. "Like… aggressively quiet. Like the world is buffering."
A tiny bluebird chirped in agreement.
Kayden pointed at it. "See? Even you get it."
He didn't know why he felt restless.
He didn't know why he kept staring at the horizon like something was missing.
He didn't know why every night he dreamed of—
A golden-haired girl.
A battlefield.
Fire and light.
A hand reaching for him.
And a pain he couldn't name.
Kayden rubbed his chest. "It's like someone's missing from my life but I don't even know who."
Before the melancholy could settle into a full existential crisis, he heard a familiar shout:
"KAYDEN! Get your legendary star-gazing butt over here!"
Kayden flinched. "Oh no. Mom voice."
His mother, Lyria, stormed out of the house with the intensity of a general and the disappointment of someone who just realized her son was daydreaming instead of helping.
She marched right up to him.
Hands on hips.
Eyebrow raised.
The posture that strikes fear into the bravest warriors and all 8-year-olds.
"Explain yourself," she said.
Kayden blinked. "Uh… gravity?"
"Gravity my foot."
She picked him up like he weighed nothing and carried him inside.
Kayden dangled in her arms like a confused cat.
"Moooom! I'm eight! I have dignity!"
"You can have dignity after you help stack firewood."
Kayden sighed, defeated by maternal efficiency. "This is emotional damage."
⸻
Later That Afternoon — The Lythmoor Training Yard
Kayden wasn't a prodigy.
He wasn't born with inherited technique, magical ability, or some dramatic blessing.
He was…
normal.
At least externally.
Which is why the wooden training sword felt weirdly right in his hands today.
Baron Eldric watched with crossed arms. "Alright, son. Just try a simple slash. Nothing complicated."
Kayden nodded. "Got it. Simple slash. Like this—"
He swung.
FWOOOM.
Wind gathered around the blade and blasted leaves across the yard.
Eldric's jaw dropped.
The training sword snapped clean in half.
Kayden stared at the broken weapon. "Uh… beginner's luck?"
His dad blinked at him like he was staring at a mythical creature.
Which, to be fair, he technically was.
"Kayden," Eldric said slowly, "have you… trained before?"
Kayden shrugged. "No? I mean—sometimes my muscles do things before I think about it. My dreams are kinda weird too."
Eldric put a hand on Kayden's shoulder, trying to stay calm.
"Son… we're sending you to the Annual Selection Trials."
Kayden froze.
"Wait—WHAT?! The royal trials? The ones for future knights, mages, guardians, and basically every person who wants trauma as a personality trait?!"
"Yes."
Kayden blinked. "…Slay."
Eldric smiled. "That's the spirit."
But Kayden felt something deep in his chest stir.
A warmth.
A pull.
Like something—someone—was waiting for him there.
He didn't know who.
He didn't know why.
He just knew that the Selection Trials felt like destiny tapping him on the shoulder.
⸻
Far Across the Kingdom — Capital City Elyndra
Kirti Elyndra — age 7.
Thunder rumbled in the distance.
Lightning painted the sky violet.
The Elyndra estate glowed with golden mana seals as teams of mages struggled to contain the energy swirling around its courtyard.
And at the center of the chaos—
a girl floated three feet above the ground, wrapped in golden light.
Her hair shimmered.
Her eyes glowed.
Her aura crackled like a small sun barely holding itself together.
"Lady Kirti!" cried one of the mages. "You must calm down—your mana is destabilizing the barrier!"
Kirti crossed her arms mid-air, annoyed. "I am calm."
A bolt of lightning immediately destroyed a decorative statue behind her.
The mage coughed. "Perhaps… calmer?"
Kirti sighed dramatically—because even at age seven she was the queen of aesthetic existential frustration.
Her feet touched the ground again and the storm eased.
The golden aura faded into a soft glow.
The sigils on her skin dimmed.
Her father, Highlord Varian Elyndra, approached with quiet reverence.
"My daughter… your training advances too quickly for any tutor to keep up. You are extraordinary."
Kirti looked away.
Not in modesty—
but in loneliness.
"I don't feel extraordinary," she murmured.
Varian frowned. "You are the most gifted child in the kingdom."
"I know," she said softly.
"That's the problem."
She touched her chest—
the constant ache she never talked about.
The emptiness she couldn't explain.
"Father," she whispered, "why does it feel like a part of me is missing?"
Varian's expression softened.
But he had no answer.
Because how do you explain that her soul was waiting for someone she didn't remember?
⸻
Night — Kirti's Bedroom
Kirti sat by her window, legs pulled to her chest, staring at the moon.
She whispered to it like it was an old friend:
"…Why do I feel like I'm supposed to be somewhere else?"
Lightning flickered through her eyes.
Not dangerous.
Just… longing.
A soft knock came on her door.
It was her personal maid, Rina—gentle, kind, practically Kirti's older sister.
"Lady Kirti," Rina said softly, "your mana levels spiked again today. Are you pushing yourself too hard?"
Kirti shook her head.
"I'm not pushing. I'm… searching."
"For what?"
Kirti hesitated.
Then whispered:
"…Someone."
Rina blinked. "Someone? Like a friend?"
Kirti hugged her knees tighter.
"No. Something… deeper. Like I made a promise to someone and forgot."
Her voice grew small.
"Is that weird?"
Rina smiled and brushed Kirti's hair.
"Sweetheart… everything about you is weird. It's part of your brand."
Kirti giggled.
Just a little.
Rina continued, "Your father approved your participation in the Annual Selection Trials."
Kirti lifted her head. "Really?"
"Yes. They start next week."
Kirti felt it.
A sudden pulse in her chest.
Warm.
Electric.
Hopeful.
"Someone's waiting for me there," she whispered.
Rina tilted her head. "Who?"
Kirti stared at the moon again.
"I don't know."
⸻
Kayden — Night Before Departing for the Trials
Kayden sat atop the farmhouse roof, staring at the same moon Kirti was looking at miles away.
He tossed a pebble into the air, caught it, tossed it again.
"I swear," he muttered, "if the universe is trying to give me main-character vibes, it better pay my therapy bills later."
He closed his eyes.
And for a heartbeat—
he saw her.
A girl made of light.
Eyes like gold.
Hand reaching toward him.
His breath caught.
"…Who are you?"
The wind whispered against his cheek.
It felt like fingertips.
⸻
The Kingdom Moves
The next morning, countless carriages rolled toward the capital.
Kayden's family carriage creaked and rattled like it might fall apart mid-route.
Kirti's moved like a golden comet, escorted by elite knights.
Two souls—reborn, reshaped, re-forged—
moving on paths destined to collide again.
Not because of memory.
Not because of fate.
Because the universe itself remembered them.
And the moon, high and silent, watched as—
the Sun began to move toward it again.
⸻
To be continued in Chapter 3 — "Where Two Stars Almost Meet"
Kayden enters the capital for the first time.
Kirti arrives with explosive attention.
The Selection Trials begin.
And for the first time since the end of the universe—
they will feel each other's presence.
Even if they don't know why.