"Asher…"
A shoemaker, a woman clad in a brown garment of coarse linen, opened a wooden door and looked at her son lying on his bed with a book in hand.
At the sound of his name, the boy, whose brown hair matched the color of his mother's garment, looked up.
Smiling, the mother stepped into the room and sat beside the bed, gently caressing her ten-year-old son, a child she had given birth to during the Great Abyssal War. A time of plagues that devoured cities, famine that starved nations, and corrupted waters that poisoned entire regions.
It was the bleakest era imaginable.
And yet, it was then that she had given birth to him, her most cherished treasure.
"How much did you pay for that book?" Ayra asked, her tone weary yet curious.
"This is the story of King Asher. The old man beside the tavern sold it for one bronze coin," Asher replied, his eyes shining.
Ayra chuckled. "Do you even know how to read?"
"I know a few words."
"Then let me read it for you."
