K.J hoisted the heavy canister of matoes and tatoes, adjusting it awkwardly as he clipped it to his belt. The weight pulled at his lean frame, but he was used to carrying such loads. With a small grunt of effort, he set off down the cobblestone road, turning onto the well-worn Trade Center street, where the usual bustle of daily life filled the air. Trade stalls were lined with goods—colorful fabrics, freshly baked bread, and tools and trinkets that common folk bought for their homes and livelihoods.

As K.J walked, the intense heat of a nearby forge hit him like a wave. He passed a tall, sturdy wooden building where Tora the Bull, the town's most renowned blacksmith, worked hard. The air around the shop shimmered from the heat, and the rhythmic sound of hammer striking metal echoed down the street. Tora, a massive, dark-skinned man with rippling muscles and skin glistening with sweat, was as intimidating as he was skilled. His nickname came from both his sheer size and his stubborn nature.

Tora paused mid-swing, lifting his head to catch sight of K.J passing by. His bright blue eyes gleamed under his thick, furrowed brow. "Hey, K.J!" he called out in a deep, booming voice, raising his hammer for a brief wave before shaping a red-hot sword on his anvil.

K.J heard his name clearly from his good ear, offering a small smile and a nod in return. He admired Tora's craftsmanship but didn't stop to chat, the canister pulling at his hip as he continued toward his destination.

The street was alive with activity. Children darted between carts, their laughter mingling with the hum of haggling merchants. K.J passed vendors calling out their prices, the air thick with the scent of roasted meats, freshly picked herbs, and the earthy smell of the market. However, he spotted someone who made him slow his pace—Ridgel.

Ridgel was walking alone this time, without his usual companions, but his face still wore that same cruel sneer. His eyes found K.J, and a flicker of irritation crossed his expression. Ridgel had never taken kindly to K.J, and after being scolded by the High Commander earlier, it was clear his mood hadn't improved.

K.J tried to avoid him, but as they crossed paths, Ridgel deliberately shoulder-checked him, causing K.J to stumble. The force sent several matoes and tatoes tumbling from his canister, rolling onto the dusty cobblestones.

K.J sighed, not in frustration but with the weariness of someone long accustomed to these petty taunts. He crouched down to pick up the fallen vegetables, his movements calm and methodical. Ridgel glanced back with a hateful smirk before disappearing into the crowd. K.J said nothing, knowing it was pointless to engage. Once he gathered the last vegetable, he stood and continued.

After a short walk, K.J arrived at Miss Mattie's hut, a cozy little building nestled among the trade stalls. Mattie had her shop decorated with colorful fruits and vegetables arranged in neat baskets that spilled out onto the wooden counter. The bright display was a welcome sight after his encounter with Ridgel.

Inside, K.J. found Miss Mattie herself—a short, husky woman with a round face framed by curls of white and gray hair. Her eyes sparkled with warmth, and her energy was contagious. She moved around her shop with surprising sprightliness for her age, always brimming with enthusiasm.

"Ah, there you are, lad!" Miss Mattie greeted him with a broad, welcoming smile. Her voice was rich with warmth and cheer, the tone that instantly made you feel at ease. "You've brought me just what I needed! I was running low on those vegetables," she said, wiping her hands on her apron before reaching out to help him with the canister.

She beamed at him as she took the vegetables. "You've saved the day, K.J," she added, her hearty laugh filling the small space. "The folks around here won't stop asking for my stew, and I can't make it without a good batch of tatoes."

K.J smiled faintly in response, his quiet nature holding him back from saying much. But Miss Mattie didn't mind—she had known him long enough to understand his silence.

Miss Mattie handed K.J. thirty bronze crowns, weighing them out by the pound. "A crown a pound, and that canister looks about thirty pounds," she said with a satisfied nod. "Thank you for bringing it in, K.J.! And tell your uncle I said hi. He must come by and try my stew—it'll warm his bones."

K.J. gave her a brief smile and a nod before heading back toward his home. He tucked the pouch of bronze crowns securely into his tunic, the clinking of the coins accompanying his footsteps as he left the cozy warmth of Miss Mattie's shop behind.

The sun hung low in the sky as he walked back through the Trade Center, the crowds thinning as the day wound down. He was halfway home when something suddenly yanked him off course, catching him completely off guard. Strong hands pulled him sharply into a dark alley, slamming him hard against the rough, gray stone of a building.

The impact knocked the breath from his lungs, and as K.J. gasped for air, he found himself face-to-face with Ridgel. Ridgel's eyes blazed with fury, his face twisted in rage, and a thin line of spittle foamed at the corners of his mouth. "You didn't expect this, did you, mute?" he hissed, his voice dripping with venom.

K.J. kept his breathing steady, trying to remain calm despite the tension crackling in the air. He knew this confrontation wasn't about him—Ridgel was angry because of the High Commander's earlier reprimand. But K.J. had done nothing to provoke it. Ridgel had brought this trouble on himself.

Ridgel's fists clenched tightly at his sides as he snarled. "I'm going to make you pay for that. No one makes a fool of me, especially not in front of the High Commander!"

K.J.'s sharp eyes followed Ridgel's pacing, watching every movement and twitch of his body. He knew this situation could escalate quickly, and he would need to be smart. Ridgel wasn't thinking clearly—his anger had blinded him, and K.J. could use that to his advantage.

Ridgel lunged, his arm swinging wildly toward K.J., but K.J. was faster. In a fluid motion, he ducked under Ridgel's outstretched arm just as the fist flew past him, the momentum carrying Ridgel forward. K.J. watched as Ridgel's hand collided with the hard, jagged stone of the building behind him.

A sickening crack filled the alley, followed by Ridgel's pained scream as he cradled his hand, three of his knuckles broken from the force of the impact. He collapsed to the ground, writhing in agony, his earlier bravado gone in an instant.

K.J. didn't waste a second. With Ridgel distracted by his own pain, K.J. briskly walked out of the alley, slipping away from the confrontation. His heart raced, but he forced himself to stay calm as he made his way back home, leaving the chaos of the Trade Center behind him.

The night got darker, and before K.J. entered the house, he decided to sit on the bench in front of the window with flowers in a box hanging in front of it. He observed the night carefully; he always fell in love watching the stars twinkling in the dark space, and the moon was so big and radiating bright white light blanketing across the whole of Astria, making few people visible walking around.

K.J. believed deeply in the power of magic, seeing it as the force behind everything in Gaia. To him, the moon was the clearest embodiment of magic, tied to the Light Affinity because of its radiant beams illuminating the night sky. He understood magic through the lens of Elemental Affinities, a belief system that categorized the world's forces. The Ocean belonged to the Water Affinity, the fireplace to the Fire Affinity, and the tree to the Earth Affinity. Even the sensation of flying or the movement of the wind fit into the Air Affinity.

There were, however, a few legends that confused the moon's place in this order. Some ancient tales mistakenly placed the moon under the Dark Affinity simply because it appeared at night. But K.J. never believed that. To him, there was balance in everything. Daylight may brighten the world, but it also casts shadows, just as the night is pierced by the glowing light of the moon. That balance was essential, a delicate harmony that connected all the affinities.

In K.J.'s mind, the elements themselves also represented balance. Water can extinguish fire when a house is caught ablaze, but fire can thaw frozen water, melt ice, and restore warmth. To him, it was a reminder that everything had its place, opposite, and purpose.

Purpose. The word lingered in K.J.'s mind as he inhaled the cold breeze sweeping across the land. The sharp chill made him more aware of the world around him. Mixed in with the crisp air was the sweet fragrance of nearby flowers. Sugooms, delicate white flowers tinged with soft purple at their centers, swayed gently in the wind. They were beautiful, with their unique shapes, and their scent—light and sweet—was one of the most common and comforting in the land.

But as K.J. breathed in the pleasant aroma, his thoughts drifted back to the question that had been haunting him for cycles: What is my purpose in Gaia? He had always felt the weight of being different, of not hearing the world as clearly as others. It wasn't just about being judged for his deafness—it was the fear that it might limit him in finding his true calling. Could someone like him really understand love? How would he even know what it feels like when he struggled to communicate with the world around him?

His gaze shifted, first to the west, then to the east, where the towering mountains framed the horizon. They stood like silent sentinels, timeless and unmoving. He admired their majesty but wondered if, like the mountains, his life would remain rooted in place—unchanging and without clear direction.

A sudden breeze carried a salty scent to his nostrils, pulling his thoughts toward the deep river that cut through the valley several miles away. He could never quite explain its scent—somewhere between freshness and a sharp saltiness, a reminder of the wild, untamed world beyond the safety of the town walls.

"K.J.?" A deep voice rumbled as the door creaked open. William stepped outside, his heavy frame casting a shadow over the porch. He looked at his nephew, concern etched into his weathered face. "Everything okay?"

K.J. nodded quietly. It wasn't that he didn't trust William—he did, deeply—but speaking wasn't something that came easily to him. Silence had always felt like a safe refuge, a way to stay away from the problems and drama that seemed to follow others. He believed that by not saying anything, he could slip beneath notice, avoiding the attention that often brought trouble.

It seemed to him that words were what stirred up conflict. People who spoke too much, too loudly, were the ones who created problems. If he stayed quiet, maybe the world would leave him alone.

William watched him closely, his sharp eyes understanding more than K.J. would ever say aloud. He had never pressured K.J. to speak, but he always made it clear that he was there, ready to listen when the boy was.

"You know you can tell me if something's bothering you," William said softly, stepping closer, his tone gentle despite his imposing figure.

K.J. gave him a faint smile but said nothing, his mind still drifting in a sea of unspoken thoughts.

"Well, don't forget to put out the fire in the fireplace before bed," William reminded, his voice softening. "And prepare your clothes for tomorrow when the guard comes to fetch you."

K.J. nodded once more, offering a small, appreciative smile. William chuckled, and as he turned back inside, he gave K.J.'s head a gentle, affectionate pat. The touch was brief, but it carried the warmth of a man who cared deeply for his nephew.

Alone again, K.J.'s gaze drifted upward toward the night sky. Something caught his attention—a soft, radiant glow cutting through the darkness. His eyes followed the source: a bird gliding smoothly through the cool air, its wings spread wide, shimmering in the moonlight. K.J. knew the bird well—it was an Aurora bird, known for how its feathers captured and reflected the moon's light.

The bird's body seemed to glow, a delicate mix of soft white and pale green, its colors shifting as it soared freely across the sky. The moonlight bathed its feathers, transforming the bird into a living beacon of light. It moved gracefully and easily, cruising through the air as if unburdened by the world below.

K.J. watched in quiet admiration, feeling a familiar pull. The bird's flight reminded him of freedom—a life unbound by limitations. The Aurora bird absorbed the moonlight and shone with it as though it took something ordinary and turned it into something extraordinary. K.J. wondered if he, too, could find his light someday and if the path he was about to take would lead him to the freedom and purpose he had longed for.

K.J. stood for a moment longer, letting the cool breeze wash over him, stirring something deep within—a quiet sense of nostalgia. He inhaled one last breath of the crisp night air before stepping back inside the house.

The interior was familiar and comforting, with his room upstairs and William's tucked away on the far right of the ground floor. K.J. bent by the fireplace, carefully shutting the chamber door to let the flames die out. The warmth of the fire slowly faded as he walked over to the front door, sliding the latch into place to lock it securely for the night.

Climbing the wooden stairs, K.J. entered his open space bedroom, modest and practical, with just a bed, a small chest, and a standing mirror near the window. The night sky peeked through the glass, casting a soft, silvery glow into the room. He began to undress, peeling off his layers of clothing one by one until he was left in his simple black braies.

As he adjusted the waistband, loosening it slightly for comfort, he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. The soft light from the moon illuminated his skin, drawing his eyes to the tattoo just below his belly button. K.J. stepped closer to the mirror, the reflection of the intricate mark now clearer.

The tattoo had been there for as long as he could remember, its familiar and mysterious design. He studied the circular sigil—a perfect symmetry split down the middle. One half of the circle was shaded darker, the other lighter, representing two opposing forces in constant balance. His fingers lightly grazed the design, tracing the crescent moons on either side of the central divide. The moons, curved like the ones in the night sky, seemed to glow faintly in the moonlight, hinting at some more profound connection to time or the celestial world.

Around the moon, precise geometric lines crisscrossed the circle, leading to four distinct arrows pointing outward—north, south, east, and west. Standing in front of the mirror, K.J. often wondered if the arrows were meant to be a compass or perhaps something more symbolic.

He stared at the mark for a few more moments. People never knew he had it or had yet shown it to anyone, but K.J. had no answers. The tattoo felt like a puzzle, a reminder of something larger than himself waiting to be uncovered. It was part of him, a piece of a story he had yet to understand.

K.J. took a deep breath and turned away from the mirror. He pulled his braies back into place, letting the reflection fade from his mind. The tattoo's meaning would remain a mystery for now—one he hoped would reveal itself in time.

After stepping away from the mirror, K.J. focused on the task at hand—preparing for tomorrow, his big day. He crossed the room to where his simple wardrobe stood, pulling out his best clothes. From the small chest, he gathered a brown tunic, soft and worn from years of use but still presentable. He laid it out carefully on the edge of his bed, smoothing the fabric with his hands.

Next, he grabbed his sturdy and comfortable breeches, perfect for a long day of work or travel. Finally, he reached for his high boots, scuffed from many days spent walking the fields but reliable nonetheless. He placed them neatly by the foot of the bed.

As he stood back and looked over his outfit, a mix of excitement and nerves settled in his chest. He would step into something new tomorrow—a life beyond the farm, a path that might reveal his true purpose. With everything laid out and ready, K.J. felt the weight of the day ahead.

He glanced at the moon through the window, its soft light casting long shadows across the room. Then, with a deep breath, he prepared himself for whatever was to come as he climbed into his comfortable bed and fell sleep under the light of the moon.