CHAPTER TWO

LIFE IN NEVIA

The journey to Nevia was a blur of rocking wagon wheels, whispered reassurances, and the soothing hum of Aunt Murrell’s voice. Paul clung to her words like a lifeline, unsure of what awaited him in a new town, far from the pain and cruelty of Taagi.

When they arrived, Paul was awestruck. Nevia was nothing like he had imagined. Nestled in the northern region of Azma, it was a sprawling village brimming with vitality. Emerging from a dense forest, they came upon a fertile meadow where short grasses swayed, and maple trees stood scattered like sentinels. The streets were bustling but clean, a stark contrast to the grime of Taagi. The air carried the scent of freshly baked bread and blooming flowers, and the people moved with a sense of purpose, their faces adorned with genuine smiles.

“You’ll be safe here,” Murrell assured him as the wagon creaked to a halt in front of a lively compound at the end of a dirt path.

The compound was vibrant with life. The ground was hard yet clean, and a horse barn stood to the right, while five plum trees lined the left side, their fruits glistening in the sunlight. A sturdy well occupied the center of the space, and at the far end stood a two-story cottage, its wooden frame warm and inviting.

The door swung open, revealing a tall, broad-shouldered man with graying hair and kind eyes. Elijah, Murrell’s husband, stepped forward, his gaze softening as it settled on Paul.

“So, this is the boy?” Elijah’s voice was deep yet gentle, carrying a weight of authority that wasn’t intimidating but reassuring.

Paul nodded hesitantly, unsure of what to expect. To his surprise, Elijah crouched to his level, placing a firm but warm hand on his shoulder.

“Welcome home, son.”

Paul’s heart broke. For twelve years, his own father had never called him "son," yet here was a stranger embracing him without hesitation.

---

Life in Nevia was a stark contrast to the harshness of Taagi. Paul found himself enveloped in warmth and acceptance he hadn’t known was possible. Murrell treated him as her own, ensuring he was well-fed and cared for. Elijah, a knight in the ranks of Azma, became more than just an uncle—he became a father figure.

It was Isen and Rooks, his older cousins, who transformed Paul’s life the most.

Isen, the eldest, was tall and lean, with Murrell’s sharp green eyes and auburn hair that curled just at the edges. His confidence and quick wit often made him the ringleader of their mischief, but his teasing always carried a note of warmth.

Rooks, slightly shorter but more muscular, took after Elijah with his dark brown eyes and straight black hair. He was quieter than Isen, often observing before speaking, but his loyalty and protective nature were unwavering. Together, they welcomed Paul into their fold like a younger brother.

“Come on, runt,” Isen teased one morning, ruffling Paul’s hair. “You’ll never learn to fight hiding behind Mom’s skirts.”

Paul flushed but followed Isen and Rooks into the backyard, where Elijah stood waiting with a set of wooden training knives.

“First lesson,” Elijah said, his voice steady and commanding, “is control. Strength means nothing if you don’t know how to use it.”

Day by day, Paul trained under Elijah’s watchful eye. His cousins, though often teasing, were his biggest supporters, encouraging him when he faltered and celebrating his small victories. For the first time, Paul felt like he belonged.

---

By the time Paul turned fifteen, he had grown into a capable young man, sharing responsibilities with Isen and Rooks on the family farm. Their farm, located on the outskirts of Nevia, was a peaceful stretch of land bordered by dense woods.

One warm afternoon, as Paul wiped the sweat from his brow, the sound of hooves caught his attention.

“Look alive,” Isen called, gesturing toward the approaching riders.

A squad of Azma soldiers emerged from the tree line, their armor gleaming in the sunlight. Paul’s heart raced as he recognized the man riding at the head of the formation—Elijah.

“What’s Father doing with a squad?” Paul asked, curiosity lighting up his voice.

“Special mission, most likely,” Rooks replied, tossing a bundle of hay into a cart.

Paul watched the soldiers pass, captivated by their disciplined movements and polished gear. His uncle spared a glance in their direction, offering a small nod. A yearning stirred within Paul, a pull he couldn’t quite place.

---

The following week, Paul stood in the bustling market square with Isen, their cart laden with fresh vegetables and fruits. The sun was high, and the chatter of townsfolk filled the air.

“Three for two!” Isen called, waving a bundle of carrots to a passing woman. Paul busied himself arranging apples when a voice broke his focus.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

Paul looked up, startled, and found himself staring into warm brown eyes. The young woman before him had smooth brown skin, a radiant smile, and a playful lilt to her voice that made his cheeks flush.

“I’ll take an apple,” she said, her lips curving into a grin.

Paul fumbled, nearly dropping the fruit as he handed it to her. “Uh, here. It’s...fresh.”

She laughed, a melodious sound that sent warmth through him. “You’re cute when you’re nervous.”

Before Paul could respond, she tossed him a coin and winked. “See you around, apple boy.”

Paul watched her walk away, her laughter lingering in his ears.

“Don’t stare too much, Paul,” Isen teased. “Just go with the flow. If she’s interested, she’ll come around.”

Paul nodded, though he couldn’t resist sneaking a few more glances.

---

Her name was Eliana. Paul learned this during their second encounter when she lingered by the stall, teasing him as she bought more fruit than anyone could reasonably eat. Soon, their meetings became frequent. She’d appear out of nowhere, her presence a balm to Paul’s soul.

She was bold and adventurous, with a way of making Paul feel like he was the only person in the world.

“Come on,” she said one afternoon, grabbing his hand.

“Where are we going?” Paul asked, struggling to keep up as she led him through the forest.

“Somewhere special.”

They emerged into a hidden glade, where a crystal-clear stream wound through the trees. The air was cool, and sunlight filtering through the canopy cast a golden glow over the water.

“This is my favorite spot,” Eliana said, kicking off her shoes.

Paul hesitated before shedding his shirt and stepping into the cool water. They splashed and laughed, their joy echoing through the glade.

At some point, their playfulness gave way to something deeper. Eliana stepped closer, her gaze locking with his.

“You’re not so shy anymore, are you?” she whispered, her voice teasing but soft.

Paul’s breath hitched as she leaned in, her lips brushing against his. The world seemed to fade, leaving only the two of them and the gentle murmur of the stream.

For Paul, this was more than love—it was a glimpse of the life he had always dreamed of.