Kings of Unra

CHAPTER II: CHILDREN OF HEAVEN, CHILDREN OF LIGHT (II)

CHAPTER I: CHILDREN OF HEAVEN, CHILDREN OF LIGHT (II)

   The woman examined the basket twice. It had an encryption bathed in silver, named ‘Leroy, Sentient Angel’, right below the grip of wood. The woman looked over the creature, and it seemed like a beautiful being. One of fine complexions. The body of the little boy was pale, and he seemed to be held in cold. She turned the back of the baby, while she was still understanding him, and on his back, she found a giant mark. A scar in the form of an opening; and there laid the initiations of a single little wing, as if it were about to sprout.

    The woman then held the child, as her maternal instinct seduced her to comfort him. And as she comforted the boy among the waterfalls of the nightfall, a white light began to flow from him. And his body radiated an amber power, which made all the surrounding forces dance upon them, and adorned their company with an inexplicable magic that illuminated the dark, and cornered the place with life.

   The woman named Thelía, decided to secretly take the child. She crossed between the paths of the lagoon, and between those of the nearby hills. She passed the bridges of the fireflies, and traversed the small paths of the forest with her arid lantern. It was then when she reached to her home; a white cabin lost among the eternity of the bushes.

      The firstborn of her children was the first to be stunned, being the only one who had waited for her all night until the arrival of her day. And he jumped with joy, as he saw the delicately face of the little being. They entered into their home, and the firstborn began to awaken all of his brothers, in all their underground rooms, with the venture of his content. As they would go up to the room just to rectify, the beautiful creature who had miraculously arrived.

"How did you find him mother?" exclaims one of the daughters.

"I have not found him, my daughter," responds Thelia. “He has found me. He is a child of heaven, a child of light. And we’ve been given the blessing to grow up with him. Welcome my Leroy, to the bosom of your new family."

     Time flew by as fast as only it knows how to do. Leroy then grew up among the centers of a very different nation. A very distant one. The giants taught the boy to defend himself. To create his own things. The Valkalos dedicated their lives to building, and designing. Their city was the perfect example for cultural innovation. Artistic innovation. Full of statues and monuments; decorated squares with unique and pointed structures. Those that denoted the physiology of the beautiful towers of the place, and resembled the beauty of the floating lands. 

    Between rivers and waterfalls, Leroy learned to fight, and battle. He was taken on dozens of raids; missions among the forests to develop a hunting sense. A nature of protection. Soon his instincts were lifted, and quickly evolved, for in Valkalia the goldsmithing and mining activities were strong to induce the boy, and the future men. An ideology centered in the effort, and in reward for the harvests and sown of dedication and strength.

Leroy was then returning from hard daywork in the mines with his elder siblings. Even though his physical strength and build was not at all similar to that of the giants, they found gradually a use for his presence, and kept their mother satisfied. They then reached the cabin; where the final ideas of the day were put together.

"Good Afternoon, Mother!" exclaims one of the sons.

"Nathaniel, Delfio, Armia, Celer, Tramio, wait-where the-oh, there you are." Exclaims Thelía. “I thought for an inst – Roy! What did you do with these pants?!"

"My–my pants m–mother? " Roy asks.

"Go change immediately!" exclaims the woman. “You have those muddy coats again, when I specifically ask you not to do it kid! You look like a pig at a party! "

The brothers then began to laugh at Leroy, before his mother forced them all to change for of the dirt on their clothes. From the kitchen, still preparing a soup that was most likely overheated, amid the desperation of the moment, the door began to knock; even after the last of her children had closed it.

"Who's there?!" exclaims the woman.

"Mrs. Thelia?"

The woman then recognized the voice immediately. Her eyes shot up in amazement. Her skin instantly prickled. She walks as she could, leaving her work behind; the kitchen half clean, the living room half tidy. She announced she was going to the door, before looking at herself in the wooden mirror. She fixed her hair a little, and breathed slowly, as she tried to numb her nerves.

"Gregorio, what-how are you?" exclaims the woman.

"May I come in?" exclaims the man.

"Well the truth is, this captains always catches me off guard," exclaims the woman, "but fair enough."

    The man then stepped forward; his gaze was one of concern, though he achieved calm in the decency of that bedroom, as he always does every time he comes to visit her. He was quickly offered a cup of green tea, as it remotely rekindles the minds of the natives of The Nation of Unra, throughout the first rays of the solemn morning. As the customary offers, and tradition declares. And before the laurels of silence and discomfort, the man decided to speak.

"I do not know what this home has my lady, that every time I come here, I find my peace," exclaims the man.

"Oh you know what they say, sometimes it's not about the place, but about the company of it." responds Thelía.

"That is very true," exclaims the man.

"Captain Grecko!"

The woman's children then appeared on the scene; abrupt and excited. Hugging and saluting the captain of the force.

"These children are adorable," exclaims the man. "Are they all here?"

“One is missing,” exclaims the woman, “which reminds me, Roy! Leroy, if you don't come right now, I swear I'm going-

"I'm coming mother!"

Climbing the stairs and approaching his gently face in the scene, the energy of the being began to feel with great exaltation; a pressure from the surroundings, witnessed by the captain of the nation. The latter looked at the young man; from head to toes. Ultimately, he was not a Valkalo, and his build was flabby and thin. His confused look focused on the creature, who had come only with a pair of pants. In his right hand, he was wearing an overflowing shirt, which his mother helped him put on, while he covered with his white shirt a mark on his back; caught by the attention of the captain’s sense.