The sky above Loras crackled with ley-light as twin stars burned brightly—an omen. Beneath them, the city swelled with life. Towers of arcanostone gleamed, dragonbeasts swooped between floating railways, and great spires whispered with magical resonance. Loras was not just a city. It was the heart of Aeloria, pulsing with old magic and newer machines. It breathed prophecy.
In the House of Daelion, the birth of twins was met with terror and awe. Midwives spoke prayers backwards. A priest of the old flame knelt beside the cradle, his face pale, and declared the line now danced on a thread.
Arnold and Doster, born holding hands, were immediately legends. Arnold, with fiery red hair that shone like a blaze at sunset, had piercing blue eyes and a complexion as fair as marble. His smile could light the darkest room, and his presence exuded warmth and light. Doster, by contrast, was a golden-haired child, with eyes of hazel that shifted between brown and green like a forest kissed by sunlight. His fair skin seemed to glow softly, but his gaze, intense and quiet, was often turned inward, as if he was seeing something the rest of the world could not.
Despite the legends, they were children first.
Their early days were spent in the green hearth—a sun-dappled courtyard within the Daelion estate where wild vines curled with strange sentience. There, they were just boys. They chased illusion moths, learned to craft toy wards, and played a game called "Ash and Ember" where one hid while the other used spell-sense to find them. It was in this magical garden that they first met their companions, each bound to them by something deeper than mere happenstance.
---
Tyra Halwen
It was on a morning when the drake first made its presence known. Arnold and Doster had been sitting beneath the ancient willow, with Doster tracing strange symbols in the dirt while Arnold tried to teach a bird to mimic his song. It was just a typical day—until the air shifted. The wind became heavy, thick with a strange, almost primal energy.
From the edge of the courtyard, a shadow passed. It was a flicker at first, a blur of movement too quick to be anything but a trick of the eye. But the leaves rustled violently, and out of the bushes emerged a creature like no other.
A drake—half-snake, half-dragon—its scales shimmered a silvery blue, and its eyes were wild, intelligent. The creature hissed, its tongue flickering as it eyed the two boys with unblinking intensity. Arnold froze, mouth open in awe, but Doster's hand immediately reached for the nearest branch, his eyes narrowed.
The drake, as if sensing Doster's calm, lowered its head. Arnold took a step forward, his voice a soft whisper, "It's... beautiful."
But before he could approach, the creature's low growl filled the air, and suddenly, it was not alone. From the shadows, a girl emerged—tall for her age, with wild auburn hair and a fierce expression. She was holding the drake's reins with ease, her stance that of someone who had spent a lifetime in its presence.
"Stay back," she warned, though her eyes were not unfriendly. "I didn't mean to startle you."
"Who are you?" Arnold asked, wide-eyed, still mesmerized by the drake. Doster remained quiet, his gaze sharper than before.
"I'm Tyra," the girl said, a hint of pride in her voice. "This is Neza, my drake. I've bonded with her since birth. We're one."
Doster's gaze flickered, the faintest trace of suspicion in his eyes, but Arnold stepped forward, his curiosity overtaking him. "You can... understand her?"
Tyra's lips curled into a smile, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "In a way. She listens to me. She trusts me."
There was something in her voice—a deep connection that spoke of unspoken history, of trust forged through years. Arnold's eyes brightened. "We should teach her to play Ash and Ember!"
Tyra looked at Arnold, amused by his enthusiasm. "Maybe later. For now... do you two want to see what she can do?"
And just like that, they were drawn into her world. Tyra taught them how to communicate with Neza, how to read the subtle shifts in the drake's body language. The drake's wild energy seemed to match Tyra's own—unpredictable and fiercely loyal.
In the weeks that followed, the trio found themselves inseparable. Tyra's boldness balanced Arnold's innocence, while Doster's quiet observance kept them grounded. They ran through the estate together, with Neza leading the charge. Tyra became their protector and guide, teaching them the wild side of magic—things that were never mentioned in the courtly halls of Daelion.
---
Lyo
It was during a rare, storm-choked evening when they found Lyo.
The rain had come down in sheets, and the estate was nearly deserted. Arnold and Doster, feeling the weight of the storm, had ventured to the old spice market on the edge of the city, where traders set up shop in the shadows of the storm.
The stalls were empty, save for the flickering of lamplights and the faint scent of wet earth. It was there they first heard the cry.
It was a sound unlike any other—a mix of a scream and a sob. Arnold moved towards the sound, his instincts pulling him forward. Doster followed quietly, his eyes scanning the area. They rounded a corner and found a small, disheveled boy, no older than them, curled in the rain-soaked alley. His clothes were torn, his skin scratched from some unseen battle.
"Hey!" Arnold called out, crouching next to him. "Are you alright?"
The boy looked up, his eyes wide and filled with something more than fear—confusion, pain, and something deeper, something old. He didn't speak at first. Then, with a hoarse voice, he said, "I'm fine... just... just don't let them find me."
Doster, ever perceptive, noticed the faint scars on the boy's arms. "Who are you hiding from?" he asked quietly.
The boy's eyes flickered with something dangerous, but before he could answer, a group of rough-looking men appeared at the end of the alley, calling his name.
Arnold didn't hesitate. He reached out and pulled the boy into the shadows, hiding him behind a stack of crates. The men walked past, unaware of the trio's presence.
After the danger had passed, Lyo introduced himself, his voice still shaky. "Lyo. I... I can hear things others can't."
"What do you mean?" Arnold asked, his curiosity piqued.
"I... can understand every language. Even the things the world doesn't say aloud."
That was when Arnold and Doster realized there was more to Lyo than met the eye. The boy had a rare gift—one that made him indispensable, especially when they ventured into places where others would not dare.
In time, Lyo became an inseparable part of their bond. His loyalty was unwavering, and though his past was shrouded in mystery, it only served to strengthen his connection with the two boys, who accepted him without question.
---
Miriya
But of all the bonds forged in the Green Hearth, none was as steady or as enduring as the one they shared with Miriya. She had always been there, from the very beginning. She had been there when they first opened their eyes to the world, and she was there, every night, when they needed the warmth of a story before sleep.
Miriya was not just their nursemaid; she was their guide, their protector. Her stories, though wrapped in lullabies, held secrets that Arnold and Doster came to understand with age. She had raised them not just in the ways of the Daelion House, but in the ways of the old magic that hummed beneath the earth.
Her gentle voice told tales of the Vjec, the ancient beings of magic who granted power in exchange for sacrifice. She spoke of them as though she knew them personally, and her eyes would often linger on Doster as she told the stories, as though she could see something in him that the others could not.
She was their constant in a world of change, and as the years passed, the twins came to trust her with their deepest fears. When the darkness began to grow within Doster, it was Miriya who would sit by his side, whispering soothing words in a language only she knew.
---
Their friendship, forged in the fires of uncertainty and bound by a shared understanding of magic, became their strength. Through Tyra, Lyo, and Miriya, Arnold and Doster found not only companions but anchors in a world that was growing ever darker.
And in the shadow of that growing darkness, the bond between the twins was all that kept them from breaking. Yet, as the years passed, even that bond began to show cracks.