Fallen legacy

"Do you see that?" A stunning woman with dark blond hair and emerald eyes spoke softly, her smile gentle. She pointed to a dim ball of light drifting around the spacious room, casting a soft glow on the marble floor, wooden furniture, and scattered antiques.

"Soul energy?" A small boy asked, his innocent blue eyes tracking the glowing orb with fascination.

"Yes, darling, soul energy," the woman replied, reaching out to catch the ball of light before handing it to the boy. "It's perfectly harmless, don't worry." She offered a reassuring smile as she noticed the boy's hesitation.

"Can I keep it, Mommy? Please?" the boy asked, hugging the warm ball to his chest.

"Sorry, Elijah, but it will slowly dissipate," she said, ruffling his hair affectionately.

"Why? Is it dying?" Elijah asked, holding the ball close to his face as if inspecting it for injuries.

"Not at all, dear," she chuckled. "It's just returning to its home, since there's nothing here to sustain it. It will gradually fade away and go back to the other world."

"The other world? Mommy and Daddy always go there, but you don't want to take me with you. It's not fair—I want to play with the energy too," Elijah pouted.

"Haha," a deep laugh came from the doorway as a tall, muscular man stepped into the room, scooping Elijah up and lifting him into the air. Elijah's joyous cackle filled the room as he shouted, "Daddy!"

"Elijah, do you want to go to the other world too?" the man asked.

"YES!"

"Then awaken, and we shall conquer it together!" the man proclaimed in a playful pirate accent.

"We shall conquer it together!" Elijah echoed with a laugh, mimicking his father's tone.

---

Elijah's eyes fluttered open, the remnants of his dream still vivid. Tears trickled down his cheeks as he struggled to push away the lingering image. He lay in the dim, cramped room, the contrast from his dream stark and jarring.

The room was small, cluttered, and somewhat unkempt. The walls, once likely a neutral color, were now scuffed and peeling. A single, narrow bed dominated the space, its thin blanket rumpled and frayed. Next to it stood a rickety wooden desk, its surface strewn with papers and forgotten trinkets. A small closet, barely big enough to hold Elijah's few possessions, stood against the wall, its door slightly ajar.

The small window offered little comfort. Through the grimy glass, Elijah could see the bleak, dilapidated buildings that surrounded his own, their sad, broken facades blocking out what little view there was. The once vibrant energy of his dream felt worlds away from this reality.

With a deep, shuddering breath, Elijah fought to push himself into a sitting position. His hands trembled slightly as he grasped the wheels of his wheelchair, his movements slow and deliberate. The joy he had felt in his memory seemed a distant echo against the stark backdrop of his current life.

Elijah maneuvered his wheelchair carefully out of his room, the soft whirring of the wheels echoing in the quiet apartment. The hallway was narrow and dimly lit, with faded wallpaper peeling at the edges. Each turn was a calculated effort, and he took his time navigating the cramped space.

The apartment was modest and worn. The living area was small, filled with mismatched furniture that had seen better days. The walls bore the marks of years of neglect, and the floor was covered with a threadbare carpet. Elijah's kitchen was just off the living room, a tiny space with aging appliances and a cluttered countertop.

He wheeled himself into the kitchen, the narrow doorway presenting another obstacle. Elijah grimaced as he transferred from his wheelchair to a sturdy chair at the counter, the motion requiring more effort than he cared to admit. With practiced movements, he reached for a few basic ingredients from the cabinet—eggs, bread, and some wilted vegetables from the fridge.

Cooking was a painstaking process. Elijah's movements were slow and deliberate, his hands sometimes trembling as he cracked eggs and chopped vegetables. He worked with a concentration that belied the simplicity of the meal he was preparing. Every action required a careful balance and adaptation to his physical limitations.

After he finished cooking, he wheeled himself to the small dining table. The table was set for two, with mismatched plates and silverware. Elijah took a moment to catch his breath, then began the task of arranging the meal. The kitchen was warm, filled with the scent of the simple breakfast he had prepared.

He was setting the final plate when he heard the faint rustling of footsteps. The sound of a door opening caught his attention. Elijah glanced toward the hallway, his heart tightening slightly. His little sister, still groggy from sleep, emerged from her room. Her dark blond hair was tousled, and her emerald eyes blinked sleepily as she rubbed them with her small fists.

She was a cute girl, her appearance strikingly reminiscent of their mother. Elijah's heart ached with a pang of nostalgia as he saw her. She wore a simple pajama set, her face soft and innocent.

"Good morning," he said, forcing a smile as he watched her shuffle towards the table.

"Morning," she replied, her voice quiet and a bit distant. She gave him a polite but reserved smile before taking her seat. The connection between them was clear but strained, a testament to the emotional distance that had grown over time.

They ate in relative silence, the clinking of cutlery and the occasional hum of the old refrigerator the only sounds breaking the quiet. Elijah stole glances at his sister, trying to bridge the gap between them with unspoken words.

When breakfast was over, she excused herself to get ready for school. Elijah watched her with a mixture of longing and resignation as she headed to her room to change into her middle school uniform. Her presence reminded him of happier times, but the distance between them was undeniable.

Elijah's life changed irrevocably the day his parents vanished 2 years ago. They had always been Bellatores, powerful individuals marked by the Emblem of the Veil—a distinctive tattoo on the back of their hands that allowed them to traverse a mystical realm known only to those who had awakened it. This other world was a place of opportunities, where cultivation was possible, a sanctuary where Bellatores could grow in power and influence.

For years, Elijah had been accustomed to their frequent departures to the other world. Their absences were usually brief, lasting no more than a day or two. On rare occasions when they stayed longer, they would send messengers from the other world's Owlery, ensuring the siblings and their caretaker were informed of their whereabouts and well-being. It was an established routine, and one he had grown used to.

However, when they failed to return after what was meant to be a short trip, an unsettling void began to form. Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. The messengers, usually so prompt and reliable, never came. The once reassuringly familiar routine became a harbinger of dread.

Eventually, the Wanderer Union, the governing body of the Bellatores, declared his parents officially dead. Their disappearance was declared as unusual and out of character, leading to speculation and intrigue. Their wealth and status, once a shield of security, now drew unwanted attention.

The initial changes in Elijah's life were subtle but began to pile up. Their estate, once meticulously maintained, fell into disarray. The staff who had previously been attentive and respectful began to drift away, leaving behind a home that slowly became a shell of its former self. The luxuries they once enjoyed were now distant memories, replaced by the cold reality of financial mismanagement and neglect.

At school, the change was even more pronounced. Elijah, who had once been a normal, well-liked student, now found himself the subject of whispers and sidelong glances. The sudden shift from being the child of wealthy and influential Bellatores to an orphan with no apparent support left him vulnerable. His previous peers, once friendly, now avoided him, their attitudes shifting from sympathy to indifference.

The way people treated him was a harsh reminder of human nature—greedy, selfish, and fickle. The wealth and status that had once been a source of admiration were now a magnet for opportunists. Those who once sought favor now sought to exploit his situation. With his parents gone and the wealth now in question, the vultures circled. The estate was slowly plundered, and those who had been employed by his family were either dismissed or resigned.

Elijah and his sister, now left with dwindling resources and no guidance, began to suffer. The financial strain was immediate, and their quality of life deteriorated. The emotional strain was equally taxing. Elijah, in his desperation, made a series of poor decisions. His attempts to hold onto the remnants of their former life led him to make reckless financial decisions, selling off valuable assets at a loss, and trusting unscrupulous advisors who promised quick fixes. These decisions only worsened their situation, leading to mounting debts and further instability.

Elijah's attempts to regain control were often marked by frustration and anger, which he sometimes directed towards his sister. His actions, driven by a mix of desperation and misguided determination, led to frequent arguments and growing animosity between them. His sister, once a cute and innocent child, grew increasingly resentful of the situation and her brother's failed attempts to salvage their lives.

The bond between them, already tenuous, became strained. The once close siblings now found themselves at odds, their relationship marred by the bitterness of their circumstances. Elijah's actions, meant to protect and provide, only seemed to deepen the rift between them, leaving them both grappling with their new reality and the shadows of their lost past.

As Elijah and his sister struggled to adjust to their new life, a darker, more insidious threat began to unfold. The once proud and influential status of his parents as Bellatores had come with a host of enemies—ruthless individuals who harbored grudges against the powerful family. With his parents gone and the protective shield of their wealth and status removed, Elijah became an easy target for those seeking retribution.

The harassment started subtly. It began with small, seemingly inconsequential gestures of malice from strangers on the streets. At first, it was just a sneer from a passerby or an offhand comment from someone in a shop. Elijah, already on edge from his parents' disappearance and the collapse of his once-secure life, dismissed these incidents as isolated occurrences.

But the subtle signs soon escalated. Elijah started to experience more frequent and troubling incidents. He was harassed by street vendors, who refused to serve him or treated him with overt hostility. At first, he attributed this to simple misfortune or the stress of his changing circumstances. It wasn't long before these encounters turned violent. He found himself robbed on his way home, his few remaining possessions taken by aggressive strangers. His attempts to seek help from the local authorities were met with indifference or outright dismissal.

As days turned into weeks, the situation deteriorated. Elijah was mugged and beaten regularly. The once secure and familiar streets became perilous, each outing a gamble with his safety. The beatings were not just random acts of violence but seemed targeted and calculated. The aggressors, often masked or hidden in shadows, seemed to revel in their cruelty, leaving Elijah with bruises and injuries that would take longer and longer to heal.

The attacks grew bolder and more violent. Elijah was increasingly isolated, his attempts to find refuge or assistance thwarted by the growing hostility he faced. The once-safe places he frequented became hostile environments. His efforts to seek protection from local authorities were met with ineffective responses or outright negligence.

One night, the harassment reached a deadly climax. Elijah was ambushed by a group of men who had followed him from a local pub. They attacked him savagely, their intentions clear as they sought to inflict maximum harm. The brutal assault left Elijah barely clinging to life. He survived the attack, but not without severe and life-altering consequences. The damage inflicted on him during that night left him with debilitating injuries, leading to his eventual physical impairment.

The aftermath of the attack was a relentless struggle. Elijah's body was left scarred and crippled, his once-normal life shattered. The very streets that had once been a backdrop to his daily routine had become a battlefield where his safety and dignity were violently stripped away. The enemies of his parents had succeeded in their goal, leaving Elijah not only physically broken but emotionally scarred.

The once-close bond with his sister grew even more strained in the wake of his trauma. She, too, felt the impact of their circumstances, and the harsh reality of their lives left little room for comfort or understanding. The struggle to navigate their new reality was marked by resentment and blame, as Elijah's desperate attempts to salvage their lives only seemed to exacerbate their suffering.

The violence that had been a relentless force in Elijah's life had left him a shadow of his former self, a painful reminder of the enemies his parents had made and the high cost of their fallen legacy.