When I was about five years old, my parents started taking me to a special academy.
It wasn't the typical school that all the children my age went to; there were only ten of us in our class.
We were all related in some way: we were members of the ÓBroin family or children of trusted people who worked for our family. And, in total, there were no more than 70 children.
Among the children were my cousin Daniel and my cousins Orla and Eleonor. Daniel and Orla were twins, children of my uncle Dmitri and my aunt Maeve. Eleonor was the daughter of my uncle Vladimir and my aunt Kate. A curious detail that I didn't understand at the time was that my aunts' husbands were Russian, just like my mother; something else that united us without us realizing it.
From the first days at the academy, it was clear that I was different. Not because of my abilities, but because of my body and my character.
While Daniel and Orla moved easily, running, jumping, and learning quickly, I could barely keep up with them.
Eleonor, on the other hand, was quieter, more observant, with an innate talent for magic and physical abilities that were not normal for someone our age.
She always had a look that showed confidence and an unwavering discipline.
My first days were a challenge.
During physical training, I always lagged behind. My cousins and the other children seemed to have supernatural strength and reflexes; I, on the other hand, tripped over my own feet.
The physical, combat, and magic training that our instructors gave us was torture. While the others easily mastered it!
While they were already able to create small flames and ice shards, I could barely conjure a little warm air or a wisp of frost.
Despite everything, they didn't leave me alone. Daniel, with his protective nature, pushed me to try again and again; although Orla laughed at my clumsiness, it was always without cruelty. Eleanor, on the other hand, watched me with a mixture of despair and concern.
Every time I tried to imitate her exercises, she did them better and faster.
By the time we turned eight, I could already sense that Eleanor had a strong temperament and a natural control over her magic, something I could only dream of.
Over time, our childhood games turned into exercises; they were competitions of skill, intelligence, and creativity. We spent hours at the academy, practicing spells, running, and training in all kinds of combat arts.
Every achievement I made felt small compared to the ease with which my cousins excelled.
Among the four of us, Eleanor always emerged as the leader. She didn't need to shout for everyone to follow her.
She had an air of natural authority, and although I tried to keep up with her, I almost always found myself trailing behind; she stood out from everyone else.
Even then, a rift was forming that would soon separate us.
However, during those years, I learned something very important: being the weakest didn't mean being useless. I learned to be cautious, to analyze the movements of others before acting, and not to give up, even if others surpassed me in strength or magic.
I, Noah, the weakest of the four, always sought a way to grow, even though I could barely keep up with the others.
By the time we were ten years old, we were sometimes rivals, but inseparable.
Daniel and Orla constantly competed with each other to see who was better; Eleanor maintained her leadership position, and I... I continued learning and searching for my place.
I was the weakest, yes, and also the slowest, but I was confident that I could catch up with them in time; I just needed patience and determination.
And, although I didn't know it then, that childhood would shape the relationship I would have with Eleanor in the years to come: a mixture of respect, fear, and, above all, a profound feeling that I couldn't quite understand yet.
Oh... at least that's what I thought, until that fateful September night in the year 3042.