The days passed with an almost comforting routine. Talks with mom and dad had become part of my daily life, like sunrise after nightfall. There was always something to tell, a story to hear. However, on that particular afternoon, a question that had been lingering in my head for some time decided to come to the surface.
-Mom, you and Dad... you're still young, but... at what age did you really get married?
She smiled with that warmth of hers that could melt any doubt. Her eyes sparkled with a mixture of nostalgia and tenderness.
-We got engaged when we were only eight years old," she answered as if she were talking about something as natural as learning to walk. And we were officially married at ten.
-What? -I choked with my own surprise, "That can't be true! You're lying to me...
-I swear. If you don't believe me, you can ask your dad when he comes back. He'll tell you the same thing.
I frowned, caught between confusion and amazement. Disbelief danced like a butterfly in my head.
-Why would they do something like that when they were just kids?
Mom sighed softly. Her expression changed, becoming a little more serious, as if what she was about to tell was no longer part of a charming story, but of a complex reality.
-As we explained to you some time ago, we come from noble families. And in that world, customs outweigh feelings. It was very common to engage children from an early age to ensure alliances between families.
-A marriage could be a contract, a guarantee, a strategy to gain power... or to avoid losing it. Sometimes the wedding took place immediately; others, years later. It all depended on convenience.
-That sounds... cruel," I muttered, unable to contain my dissatisfaction. So it was all for convenience? For profit?
-In many cases, yes, but in ours it was a little different. It wasn't an imposition, although our freedom wasn't total either. It was allowed to fall in love... as long as that love brought advantages to the family.
She was silent for a moment, as if searching her memory for the exact piece of a lost puzzle. Then he continued in a softer voice.
-I knew your father when I was about your age. And although it may seem impossible to you now, he was a very absent-minded child. He lived dreaming, looking for mischief to do. You remind him a lot, you know? Only you're more... imaginative.
I smiled helplessly. That image of Dad as a child, so much like me, was amusing.
-Over time, being with him became different than being with anyone else. There was something about the way he looked at me, the way he listened to me. I guess it was love at first sight... mutual. We didn't want to be apart. Day after day, being together was just the natural thing to do.
-And when did you know you were really in love? -I asked, curious.
-When I saw him talking to other girls... I felt something strange. Jealousy, anger, sadness, all at the same time. I didn't understand what it was that made my chest heave. I told my mother and she helped me name it. That's when I knew that what I felt was love. Eventually, we got engaged and... to this day, we're still together.
He paused, as if hiding a memory he preferred not to unearth. Then he smiled again
-Every day I give thanks for having had such a peaceful and beautiful life by his side.
A silence stretched between us, warm and heavy as a winter blanket. But in the midst of that stillness, a new doubt began to form in my mind, one I couldn't ignore.
-Mom... you're not thinking of doing the same with me, are you?
She narrowed her eyes with a smile that I didn't know if it was a joke or a warning.
-I've been giving it some thought. How would you feel about marrying Gregory's daughter Anne?
-What? -I jumped to my feet. How could I marry her! We've been together too many years!
-Drake," he said, pronouncing my name with that mixture of gentleness and authority that left no room for reply. Believe me, this would benefit them more than us. And knowing Gregory... I don't think his daughter would have much trouble accepting.
I remained silent, somewhere between confused and shocked in equal parts. Sometimes, the adult world was just absurd.
She couldn't hold back a soft, infectious laugh. That laugh that always seemed to disarm any tension.
-It's just a joke, honey. I don't think they still practice those old arrangements at this point," she said with an amused sparkle in her eyes.
But I didn't laugh. Deep down, something in his tone didn't sound entirely harmless.
-Still... mother," I said cautiously, "the possibility... however small, exists, doesn't it?
She looked at me, and for a moment her expression softened, becoming more serious.
-Maybe so," she admitted, shrugging her shoulders slightly. But that's not our case. We are not nobles, and I would not be willing to give up my son so easily.
Her answer reassured me... just a little.
-Maybe they don't marry children now," I said, lowering my gaze. But what I don't think has changed... is that at sixteen you're considered an adult.
I swallowed my breath before I dared to ask the question that was on my mind.
-And what happens then... when I turn sixteen?
A brief, almost imperceptible silence preceded his change of expression. Her smile transformed into something more mischievous... more disturbing. A smile that said more than she was willing to confess in words.
-Hmm... I don't know," she murmured, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. If you're still here by then, unmarried and not gone on your own... we may have to make it happen.
He paused, and his eyes twinkled mischievously.
-Or... you could just get out of the house before I take matters into my own hands.
I stared at her in silence, unsure if she had just played a joke on me... or if she had just signed a diplomatic threat.
***
My concern did not diminish in the days that followed. In fact, it grew with every unexpected visit Mom brought home. It began to become something of a habit: I was to introduce myself with an impeccable smile, a straight back and manners sharp as a freshly forged sword.
-How do you do? My name is Drake and I'm five years old," I said, as I raised my right hand in a polite gesture, slid my left hand behind my back and gave a slight bow, as Mom had taught me.
At first it seemed like fun, almost like playing at being someone else for a while. But soon I noticed a disturbing pattern: most of the visitors were older ladies with overly attentive looks. They responded to my performance with a mixture of exaggerated compliments and proposals that, though disguised as jokes, never failed to make my hair stand on end.
-What a beautiful boy! Angie, you should introduce him to my niece, she'd love to meet him...
-He's still very young, of course, but who knows... maybe in a few years he might marry one of my granddaughters.
I pretended to laugh, or at least smile, while inside I was squirming. Marry someone who was probably many, many, many years older than me? All very nice and respectful, yes, but there was something deeply uncomfortable about those insinuations.
Gradually, I began to avoid being at home in the evenings. I preferred to get lost in the streets of the town, explore forgotten corners, listen to conversations in the square or just walk around aimlessly. Anything was better than continuing to be the center of that strange parade of possible "subsequent wives".
Maybe it was an exaggeration on my part. Maybe Mom was just trying to teach me to be polite, to present myself well in front of others. But I couldn't help but feel there was something else behind it all. Something that I didn't quite understand, but that made me want to run away every time they knocked on the door.
***
At Dad's suggestion, we decided to spend a few days at the old house by the lake. In the past, that place had only served as an occasional retreat, a place to leave responsibilities behind, disconnect from routine and just... breathe. But now things had changed. For some time now, Leo had taken up residence there between adventures. Before leaving again, he asked us to come and visit him. He said he had prepared a surprise for the whole family. So, without further ado, everything was a perfect match for our little family getaway.
And, to be honest, it suited me just fine.
Mom hadn't stopped her "social visits" since that famous prank of mine. I still suspect it was her peculiar form of punishment. I admit, I earned it... I went a little too far with that prank, but don't you think that was enough? I've more than done my penance! Or at least that's what I want to believe.
The ride home seemed much longer than usual. Before, when I was younger and rode in my arms or dozed on the back of a horse, the journey seemed fleeting, like a sigh. Now, with each step on the dirt road, I realize how much my legs have changed... and perhaps I have changed too.
Our first family activity was fishing on the shore of the lake. Mom said it would be a "quiet and meaningful" experience. For me, too boring. Sitting around for a long time waiting for something to bite? No thanks!
So, instead of just staring at a taut thread in the water, I decided to scan the surroundings with my eyes. At first glance, there wasn't much: tall, old, moss-covered trees with branches stretching like sleeping arms toward the sky. Yet there was something about the landscape... that kind of quiet beauty that grabs you without you even realizing it. Then I came up with a simple idea: find the biggest tree in the place.
It didn't take long to find it.
It stood out even among its older siblings, with a twisted trunk and branches that jutted out in an unusual way, as if trying to touch something only it could see. But there was something else... something that didn't quite fit. The canopy formed by the trees intertwined above cast deep shadows, hiding more than they revealed. I stepped closer, curious. I wanted a better look at what stood out—whatever it was that had caught my attention.
And that's when I saw it.
Something moved between the branches, flowing in a way that had nothing to do with the wind. It wasn't a tremble, nor the creak of wood; it was intentional. A presence. Fear struck my chest like a drumbeat. Something was there. Something big. If it looked massive even from this distance... I didn't want to imagine it up close.
And then... the thing moved.
In a flash, it burst from the branches and soared into the sky with a thunderous flap of wings. It wasn't just a flight—it was a rapid escape, as if it knew it had been seen. I only caught a glimpse of it before it vanished into the horizon. But what little I saw was enough.
A bird? Maybe. But not like any I had ever seen. It was enormous, and its silhouette seemed wrapped in a dark crimson tone, like fire trapped beneath feathers. I couldn't make out its eyes or its face... but its mere presence made me feel small.Luckily, it fled. I don't want to imagine what could've happened if it had decided to come toward me instead.
I let out a deep breath, trying to calm the pounding in my chest.—What the hell was that...
And for the first time in a long while, I had no desire to find out the answer.
I decided to run from that place too. The strange creature was gone, but its presence still hung in the air like a lingering shadow, and my feet quickly carried me back to the cabin. When I arrived, I found a heartwarming scene that eased my nerves a little: Mom was still sitting with her fishing rod in hand, as patient as only she could be, while Dad played with Thomas by the lakeshore, lifting him into the air and making him laugh with pure, unfiltered joy.For a moment, I just stood there, watching them silently, feeling that this moment was carving itself into my memory as one of those childhood treasures you carry forever.
So deep in thought was I that I didn't see the loose floorboard. I stumbled clumsily over it—barely sticking out from the ground, almost invisible... but just enough to interrupt my reverie. Not surprising, really; the cabin was old and had long been in need of repairs.
I thought I could fix it myself, so I raised my foot and stomped on it to push it back into place. But as I did, a dull, hollow thud echoed from somewhere else in the cabin. I froze. Did I cause that? Was the whole structure so worn down that it could collapse if I kept messing with it?
Curiosity won over caution, and I followed the sound. A few steps later, I found another loose board. I stomped again, and this time, the creak came from right behind me. I spun around, and there it was: a small gap between the planks, barely visible, but wide enough for a beam of light to shine through the floor.
I crouched down, pressing my knees into the wood. Amid blades of grass, roots, dirt, and dried leaves, something barely stuck out. A metal line, dark with age... was it a handle?
My heart began to race. I leaned in closer, feeling with my fingers, and confirmed my suspicion: it was a kind of hidden latch, embedded between the boards. I tried to move the wood that covered it, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't do it alone. I needed more hands, more strength.
I jumped up and ran to where my parents were. I arrived nearly out of breath, but my excitement outweighed the fatigue.—Mom! Dad! I found something weird under the cabin! There's a trapdoor, or a tunnel, or... I don't know, but there's something!
They exchanged curious glances and immediately stood up. We walked together to the spot I had pointed out. When Dad saw the hidden handle, a smile crossed his face.
—Yeah... —he muttered, both amused and surprised—. This must be the surprise Leo mentioned.
—What is this supposed to be, Ethan? —Mom asked with a hint of doubt in her voice, staring at the partially hidden metal handle.
Dad straightened slowly and walked off to fetch something.—It's a small cellar. Leo mentioned it once... He built it to store valuables. Though it could also serve as a hiding place, just in case we ever needed one.
Moments later, he returned with a long metal bar. It looked like it had been made specifically for this purpose. Without another word, he slid it between the wood planks and pushed down hard. One of the boards popped loose. He repeated the process with two more until, little by little, a carefully concealed trapdoor was revealed.
Dad and Mom worked together to lift the heavy hatch. At first glance, the entrance looked narrow, but when a beam of light shone inside, it became clear the space extended more than it first appeared. Not as big as a regular room, but spacious enough to be used without much trouble.
The first thing that caught the eye was a single bed, placed against one of the walls. Beside it, a few medium-sized chests sat covered in a thin layer of dust, as if they'd been waiting for someone for a long time.
There were several wooden steps leading down into the dim space. I stepped onto the first one with caution, careful not to lose my balance. At that moment, I was holding Thomas in my arms, and though he slept peacefully, the combination of dry air, my movement, and the rising cloud of dust made him let out a small sneeze.
—Ethan, we should close this for now —Mom said gently but firmly—. We don't need anything down there at the moment, and I don't want to risk any of the kids getting sick.
Dad nodded, wiping his hands on his pants.—You're right, Angie.
He then looked at me.—Drake, step aside a bit. We're going to close this for now.
—Sure —I replied as I stepped back, casting one last curious glance inside.
The opening was covered again, hidden once more beneath the old floorboards of the cabin, as if it had never been there. Part of me longed to explore it further, but I knew that place would have to wait.
After that discovery, the mysterious bird didn't return. The following days passed in almost surreal peace. Our routine was simple: fishing in the morning, games at noon, long naps in the afternoon, and at night, the sweet silence of the forest lulling us to sleep.
It was the perfect rest for our family.
When we finally returned home, something had changed. The constant visits from those ladies Mom used to invite vanished like magic. No more awkward questions, no more overly interested glances. I felt more at ease... though I still found myself sneaking out now and then, just in case.
Because you never know when the past… or an old acquaintance, might come knocking again.
***
I wandered as usual, in search of adventure. Young, handsome, and with the world at my feet—when suddenly, an old hooded man, leaning on a wooden staff, appeared before me. There was something strange about him. Why did I feel like I had seen him before?
-Boy, do you happen to know how to read?" he asked in a rough voice, though not entirely hostile. ¨
-Yeah, only because my parents taught me," I replied, not particularly interested. ¨
-Perfect. Then I'll give you a very valuable piece of advice. Practice fencing: you'll gain strength and muscle. Read books on magic: you'll gain wisdom and maturity. Do these two things, and you'll have a promising future.
-I like fencing, but reading... I only have stories about heroes and their feats, adapted for kids. They don't really convince me anymore, so I've left them aside," I replied firmly.
The old man let out a long sigh, as if my answer was the greatest disappointment.
-Listen to me, boy. Read again. I know what I'm telling you.
-No," I insisted. ¨
The old man rummaged through his pockets, muttering to himself, until he finally said:
-I think I have something to help you… wait… mmm… here!
And before I could react, he smacked me on the forehead with his staff.
-Ouch! Hey, you crazy old man! That hurts!
-Shut up, brat! he snapped with authority. Didn't your parents teach you manners? Don't speak to your elders like that. Anyway, I'll say it again: read more books and practice fencing. Got it? Or do you want another one?
-No, no, no! I got it, just don't hit me again, grumpy old man!
The old man burst out laughing, his voice echoing through the air.
-Hahaha, alright, kid. See you around. May luck be with you.
And he disappeared as quickly as he had come.
I held my forehead, still sore.
-Ugh… my forehead. That silly old man. Why would he hit a kid? That's child abuse! I'm telling my dad so he can teach him a lesson."
I stood there thinking for a moment, and a troubling thought crossed my mind.
-Wait… did he even have a face? I don't remember! Damn it, I can't accuse him without that. Lucky you, old man. But I'll get you someday...