The morning sun blazed over the endless sea, casting golden ripples across the waves that kissed the rocky shores of Solna. A gentle breeze carried the scent of salt and wildflowers through the humble village, where life moved with the steady rhythm of the tides.
At the heart of the village, a boy of four years darted between the market stalls, his laughter clear and vibrant. His crimson hair flared like a banner under the sunlight, wild and untamed, a striking contrast against his pale, sun-kissed skin. His eyes, a soft golden hue, seemed to catch and hold the very light of the morning.
"Eryon! Slow down!" a woman's voice called from the entrance of a small stone house.
Mariel Solaris, his mother, stood with hands on her hips, a gentle smile tugging at her lips. Her hair was a warm chestnut brown, braided down her back, and her arms bore the marks of a life spent working with nets and ropes. Beside her, mending a weathered fishing net, sat his father, Daren Solaris—a sturdy man with a weathered face and strong hands, known in Solna for his kindness and strength.
"Let him run," Daren chuckled. "The sun favors the lively."
Solna was a village of no more than two hundred souls, nestled between lush coastal cliffs and the vast, open sea. The people here lived simple lives, fishing the rich waters, cultivating hardy crops, and practicing rudimentary cultivation techniques passed down through generations. Most adults were basic cultivators, still in the early stages of absorbing the cosmic energies that had reshaped the Earth after the Great Evolution.
The village square bustled with activity: fishermen unloading their morning catch, artisans selling sun-hardened pottery and woven goods, children chasing each other through narrow alleys lined with volcanic stone. An old storyteller sat beneath a weathered awning, spinning tales of the Great Evolution and the rise of the Five Empires to a circle of wide-eyed youths.
Suddenly, a commotion stirred near the main road. A group of armored figures approached—the village protectors, warriors granted modest cultivation abilities by the Solar Eternus Empire. Their armor shimmered faintly under the sun, adorned with motifs of flames and stars, symbols of their allegiance to the Empire born of the old continents of the Americas.
The villagers paused their work, offering respectful bows as the warriors passed. Children stared with wide eyes, and among them, none watched more intently than Eryon.
His small hands clenched into fists, his heart pounding with awe. The way they moved—strong, confident, noble—lit a fire in his young soul.
"Papa," Eryon whispered, tugging at his father's sleeve. "I want to be like them. I want to protect everyone."
Daren looked down at his son, studying the fierce determination burning in those golden eyes. A slow, proud smile formed on his lips.
"Then you'll have to grow strong, little flame," he said, placing a calloused hand atop Eryon's head. "Stronger than the tides. Stronger than the storms. Stronger than even the sun itself."
Eryon nodded, his young heart swelling with a dream he could barely understand—a dream that would one day take him beyond the shores of Solna, beyond the skies, and into the boundless vastness of the cosmos.
The days in Solna were peaceful, filled with the scent of the sea, the songs of gulls, and the laughter of children. Yet beneath the golden calm, the world was changing, as surely as the tides. And at its center, a boy with hair of fire and eyes of dawn was beginning to stir a fate far greater than the village—or even the Earth—could imagine.