It all began long ago, in a time when the world still seemed whole.
The air was filled with the sweet songs of birds,
Children laughed as they ran barefoot through fields,
And flowers bloomed in colors so vivid they seemed to paint the earth itself.
There was a child, living a life untouched by the horrors to come.
His name, now forgotten in the haze of time,
Was once as bright and full of promise as the world around him.
Back then, he was just a boy—simple, carefree,
In a world that seemed endless in its joy.
But one name would be known by the world,
A name that would carry the weight of a thousand battles,
A name that would be whispered with reverence and fear.
That name known as Emrys.
One afternoon, when the world still seemed bright and full of possibility, Emrys sat in the garden, his hands covered in dirt as he tried to build a small fort with rocks and twigs. His younger sister, Lily, sat beside him, her face scrunched in concentration as she carefully wove a crown of wildflowers.
Their parents stood a little ways off, watching them with smiles on their faces, content in the simplicity of the moment. They wished that time could stand still, that these perfect, peaceful days could last forever. But like all wishes, it remained just that—a wish, a fleeting hope, nothing more.
Suddenly, their mother, Clara, called from the porch. "It's time to go home now, you two. It's getting late."
The children groaned in unison, shouting back, "Please, Mom, just a little bit longer!"
Clara smirked and crossed her arms, a playful glint in her eyes. "Oh, really? But the cake I baked will get eaten by Max the beloved dog of the family if we don't hurry."
At the mention of cake, Emrys and Lily jumped to their feet, racing toward their mother. "Mom, let's go home now!" Emrys called, already halfway to the door.
"Yeah, it's getting dark," Lily added, her voice full of excitement.
Clara chuckled, watching her children sprint toward her. "Alright, alright," she laughed. "Let's get going, then."
-At home, Emrys rushed inside, heading straight for the kitchen—well, more like heading straight for the cake. But before he could reach it, he was tackled to the floor by Max, the family dog, who began licking his face enthusiastically.
"Max, stop! That tickles!" Emrys giggled, wriggling beneath the dog's affectionate assault. He lay on the floor, looking up at his mother for help. "Mom, help me! He's eating me!"
Clara chuckled from the doorway and walked over, grabbing Max by the collar. "Alright, Max, that's enough," she said gently, pulling him outside. "All done."
Emrys sat up and smiled brightly at his mother, a twinkle in his eye. "Thank you, Mom!" he said, hugging her tightly.
Clara smiled and wrapped her arms around him. "No need to thank me, sweetie. Family needs to protect each other." She flexed her arms dramatically, making a show of strength.
But before Clara could say anything else, Emrys was already up and running toward the kitchen, Lily following behind, both singing together, "Cake, yummy cake!"
Clara raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms, her expression turning mock-serious. "No cake until you wash your hands, you little pigs!"
Emrys and Lily squealed in protest. "Let me go! Ahh!" they cried, trying to wriggle free from her grasp as Clara marched them both toward the bathroom.
"Come on," Clara said, her voice softening as she gently shoved them into the bathroom. "Wash up, and then you can have your cake."
The kids reluctantly did as they were told, but their grumbling soon turned into laughter as they scrubbed their hands, the thought of cake making the chore a little more bearable.
Finally, after what felt like forever, they raced back to the kitchen, hands scrubbed clean, and sat down at the table. The family gathered around the TV, enjoying their cake and chatting as the evening wore on.
Suddenly, the mood shifted. The news ticker flashed at the bottom of the screen, and an urgent announcement appeared, cutting through the usual programming.
"Breaking News: The governments of Korea and Japan have officially declared war."
The room fell silent. Emrys paused mid-bite, his eyes wide as he looked up at his parents. Clara's smile faded, her expression growing more serious, while Thomas sat forward, his face tense.
"War…" Emrys whispered, his voice a mix of confusion and concern.
Clara looked at him with worry in her eyes and a faint smile.
"Don't worry, Emrys. Everything will be alright. I bet they'll come to a conclusion soon enough."
As Emrys sighed in relief, he noticed his mother's face shift in an instant. A quiet thought slipped into his mind: Is everything really going to be alright?
The tension was broken by a loud clap from Clara.
"Okay, everybody, it's time to go to bed. It's getting late."
While Emrys was heading to bed, he paused at the top of the stairs as his parents' voices reached him from the living room.
"Honey… what are we going to do?" Clara asked, her voice low, quieter than she meant it to be.
Thomas took a moment before answering.
"We're going to take it one step at a time," he said, steady as ever. "Worrying won't help tonight."
"But what if they don't agree tomorrow?" Clara whispered. "What if this turns into something bigger? Emrys is already nervous…"
Thomas sighed, but his tone stayed calm.
"I know. But listen—things aren't falling apart. And it's not like the war is right at our doorstep. We still have time to prepare ourselves… mentally and physically."
He reached for her hand. "Whatever happens, we'll face it together."
Clara exhaled slowly, some of the tension easing from her voice.
"You're right," she murmured. "As long as we stay together, we'll manage."
After hearing those words, Emrys finally felt the tightness in his chest ease. He slipped into bed and, for the first time that night, let his eyes close without fear.
A gentle thought settled over him like a blanket: Everything will be alright.
But that wasn't the case.
Even as he slept, the world outside their small home was already shifting—quietly, steadily, in ways none of them could yet see. And by morning, the first signs of trouble would begin to show.
The next morning…