Before Kael was legend, he was only a boy.
Not a knight, not a hero, not the warrior who would one day stand alone against armies. Just a peasant with callused hands, a patched tunic, and a dream too large for the village that mocked him.
The clearing lay hushed beneath the fading sun, the air thick with the scent of grass and earth.
A massive shape shifted among the tall reeds , broad as a horse, heavier in muscle, its eyes glowing like embers. The villagers called it untamable, a spirit of the wild. None dared approach.
Except Kael.
His gaze held steady, though his heart pounded. He had grown up with nothing no noble blood, no inheritance, only hunger and hope. Yet something in him refused to bow.
From the edge of the clearing, voices carried.
"There he goes again," muttered an old farmer.
"Wasting his time," another scoffed. "That beast will tear him apart one day."
Kael ignored them. He had heard the whispers all his life that he was foolish, that he was reaching too high. But dreams were not meant to be safe.
That night, he returned to the small cottage he shared with his mother. The fire burned low, casting shadows across her weary face.
"You're chasing shadows," she said softly. "Knighthood is for nobles, not for people like us."
Kael knelt beside her, his voice firm.
"I know. But if I don't try, I'll die here in the mud. I need to believe there's more."
She sighed, brushing his hair back with a hand worn from years of labor. "Then promise me you'll be careful. I can't lose you too."
The next day, Kael returned to the clearing. The beast stood waiting, its breath steaming in the cool air. He approached slowly, speaking in a low voice.
"I'm no knight. Not yet. Just a boy who works until his hands bleed. But if you'll trust me I'll rise with you. We'll prove them all wrong."
The beast snorted, pawing the earth. Kael flinched but did not retreat. He offered food, his hand steady despite the tremor in his chest.
One night, beneath a sky scattered with stars, Kael knelt in the grass. His hand trembled as he reached forward.
"I have no gold, no armor. Only a dream to stand as a knight of the Empire. Will you help me?"
The beast lowered its head. Warm breath brushed his palm, and for a heartbeat the world held still.
Kael laughed softly, tears stinging his eyes.
"Then it's true… you chose me."
Kael sat back, staring into the beast's glowing eyes. "I can't keep calling you 'beast,'" he murmured. "You deserve a name worthy of your strength." He thought for a long moment, then whispered, "Tharos."
The creature tilted its head, ears flicking forward. Kael smiled. "It means courage… the fire that never dies. That's what you are to me."
The beast snorted, a deep rumble that sounded almost like approval. It pressed its massive head against Kael's shoulder, nearly knocking him over. Kael laughed, wrapping his arms around its neck.
"Tharos," he repeated, firmer this time. "From now on, you're Tharos."
The beast's eyes gleamed brighter, and Kael swore it understood and not just the sound, but the meaning.
For the first time, he felt not only chosen, but accepted.
From that night onward, Kael and Tharos were inseparable. Not master and servant, but companions bound by trust