Amestricy

  The city of Amestricy, located in the heart of the kingdom of Val?nia, exuded a simple and weling charm. Its streets, paved with timeworn stones, seemed to whisper stories of past geions. The wooden and stone houses, with a rustic quality that withstood the ages, housed a vibrant unity. In the tral market, the buzz of merts, the aroma of spices and fresh bread, and the rhythmic sound of hammers echoed in an almost hypnotic harmony. Amestricy ortrait of stancy, where the days seemed to follow the same rhythm, yet hid secrets and dreams behind every er.

  Among the simple lives of the city, Hitory, a 16-year-old boy, stood out, though in a subtle way. Son of a retired warrior and a legendary sorceress, his lineage was a rare mix of talent and mystery. Despite this, he was seen as just anur kid by most of the townspeople, with few suspeg the potential he himself was still trying to uand.

  Hitory

  Hitory didn’t impress at first ganding at 5’9” (1.74m), his average height and lean figure were as on as the daily flow of Amestricy. His dark hair, always messy, reflected a disi in vanity, but his dark green eyes were a different story. Deep and enigmatic, they veyed an ued firmness, as if hiding truths even he didn’t know. Hitory bore a “scar on his chest,” the in of which remained a mystery even to his father. When asked, he would always respond with a forced smile and words that barely crified anything:

  — “You really don’t remember how it happened?” — “No, Dad. And holy, it doesn’t matter right now.”

  Despite his carefree to was evident that the scar affected him deeply, like a reminder of something he couldn’t trol.

  Zelia

  Zelia, Hitory’s mother, was an almost mythical figure iricy. Renowned for her ability to manipute the elements with unmatched grad power, she was an inspiration to many. For Hitory, however, she was a loving mother who always enced him to push his limits. When it became clear that he didn’t have mana—an anomaly in a world where magic was sed nature—Zelia never allowed that to define him.

  — “Magi’t everything, Hitory. You be so much more thahink.”

  These words forted and motivated him, giving him the strength to face the barriers that arose in his path.

  With Zelia’s death during a war, an irrepceable void settled in his life. She was not only his mother but also his mentor and source of inspiration. Without her, Hitory tried to fill the gap left by her absence, diving into his studies, dedig himself to manual bor, and nurturing dreams that seemed far off. The memory of Zelia and her words of encement became the fme that lit Hitory’s path, even in the darkest moments.

  Dwalgik

  Dwalgik, Hitory’s father, was a man of few words and an imposing presence. A former warrior, he now dedicated his days to the repair workshop, where he fixed swords and artifacts with the precision of a craftsmae his serious demeanor, he imparted valuable lessons to his son.

  In the workshop, Hitory developed a natural affinity for tools, abs what his father taught. But Dwalgik always made sure to emphasize something deeper:

  — “A on is just a tool, Hitory. What matters is who wields it.”

  These words echoed in him, fueling a quiet desire to find his p the world, even without magic.

  Dreams

  Hitory found pea a hill oskirts of the city, where a solitary oak stood like a silent guardiah its shade, he spent hours lost in old books about magic, trying to decipher what, to him, were only unattaiheories. Uhe moonlight, he drew magical circles on the ground, as if the act could bring him closer to the world he so admired.

  Wheried to ehe magic school, harsh reality set in. His ana made him the target of mockery aion, but it didn’t break his determination. He promised himself that, somehow, he would find a way to prove his worth.

  Refles

  On quiet nights, sitting uhe oak tree, Hitazed at the stars and lost himself in thoughts. One question stantly hovered in his mind:

  — “Who am I?”

  The doubt followed him like a shadow, but in his heart, he felt that the answer was closer than it seemed. The stars, like silent witnesses, seemed to whisper that his journey had barely begun.

  When the day ended, he returned home with slow steps, as the scar on his chest seemed to pulse in his mind. The city slept uhe pale moonlight, and Hitory khat Amestricy was too small to hold his dreams. But for now, it was the only pce he could call home.

  End of EP 1: "Who Are You?"