Kael's eyes widened. Even in his small, developing body, he could feel it—there was something within the gem. Energy. Warmth. A sense of presence. It was more than just a necklace.
Lyra knelt beside him, holding it up.
"This," she said softly, "was the only thing my father left me before he passed."
Her voice trembled, and her usually radiant features softened with a hint of sadness. "He always said it would protect the one it loved most. I want you to have it now."
Kael's heart clenched. Even at two years old—or perhaps because of the mature soul within him—he understood the weight of the gift. This wasn't just a necklace. It was a memory, a legacy, a piece of Lyra's heart.
"Mwammyyy…" he murmured, his words slightly jumbled by his small tongue, "Twhankk you…"
Lyra's eyes watered, and she leaned down to plant a kiss on his chubby cheek.
"Awww, my baby," she whispered, hugging him tightly. "You're my everything."
Alaric smiled quietly beside them, watching the two people he loved most in this world.
"Okay, okay, dear, it's my turn now," Alaric said with a playful grin tugging at his lips.
He reached down to his waist and unhooked a small, cloth-wrapped object. With care, he unrolled the cloth to reveal a small wooden sword. Though just a toy, it was crafted with love and care.
Kael's eyes lit up the moment he saw it.
His little body leaned forward instinctively, eyes wide and sparkling. Of all the things in this world that could stir something deep inside him, nothing called to him like a sword. Even this tiny toy awakened a strange longing, a sense of familiarity in this strange, new world.
Alaric chuckled, thoroughly enjoying the reaction. "Yes, this is for you, my Kael," he said proudly, holding it out.
Kael took it with both hands, staring at it in awe.
"Did you like Daddy's gift?" Alaric asked.
Kael nodded eagerly, gripping the wooden sword tightly like it was a priceless treasure.
Lyra watched the scene with a faint smile and shook her head gently. "Like father, like son," she said, amused.
Alaric turned toward her and smirked, "Of course. He has got my spirit."
Kael, still clutching the sword, gave it a little swing in the air, his chubby arms barely managing the motion.
Alaric smiled warmly, watching Kael wave the wooden sword with uncontainable excitement. "Look at our boy… He's already swinging it like a little warrior."
Lyra chuckled from the side, wiping her hands on her apron. "He's got your spark."
But then Alaric's expression shifted. His smile softened into something more serious—gentle, but carrying weight.
He knelt down to Kael's level and said, "But do you know, Kael… we can do more than just swing a sword."
Kael blinked up at him, his small head tilting to the side in innocent curiosity.
"A sword," Alaric continued, his voice calm and steady, "can do more than perform tricks. It's not just a weapon. It's a vessel of will… of spirit."
He reached behind his back and unsheathed his own sword—its polished silver blade shimmering faintly in the kitchen light.
Kael's eyes locked onto it, utterly mesmerized.
"Let me show you," Alaric whispered.
He stepped back, holding the blade in front of him. Then, he closed his eyes.
For a moment, everything fell still.
Then, Kael felt it—like the air had turned dense, heavy, almost hard to breathe. The cozy kitchen shifted into something tense, something profound.
Then as if possessed, the sword in Alaric's hands began to glow. A soft blue light surrounded it, growing brighter and brighter with each passing second.
Faint mist of energy drifted from the blade and the entire atmosphere suddenly turned chilling.
Kael's eyes widened, his small fingers tightening around his wooden sword. His heart pounded—not in fear, but in wonder. There was power here. Real power.
Alaric opened his eyes slowly.
"This is what it means to wield a sword," he said softly. "It's not about swinging… It's about connecting. With yourself. With your spirit. With the world."
Lyra watched from the background, her gaze fond but proud, knowing this moment would mark something in their son's heart.
And indeed, it did.
Kael sat quietly, holding his little sword close to his chest, a tiny fire quietly igniting within him.