Side Story 1.5: The Boy Named August Finn
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Eleven Years Ago a Child Was Born…
A child was born amidst the sweltering summer heat as a powerful gust of wind swept through the entire village. The ancient oaks swayed as if rejoicing in this new spring of life—a celebration for a child born with the essence of fire and wind coursing through his veins.
His hair gleamed with a golden hue that caught the afternoon light streaming through the cottage windows. The tiny boy announced his arrival to the world with a mighty cry that belied his small frame—a sound like distant thunder rolling across summer skies.
The proud parents were elated with joy. His mother, though exhausted from the laborious birth, had tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. His father stood tall, his weather-worn face transformed by a smile of immense pride; he now had an heir to carry forward his name and legacy.
"What shall we call him?" the wife asked, cradling the newborn to her breast.
The father pondered for a moment, his calloused hand gently brushing the child's golden wisps of hair.
"August," he finally declared. "We shall call him August Finn."
The mother's lips curved into a tender smile as she gazed at her husband. "A beautiful name, fitting for him. It signifies the golden fire of the burning summer and the strong gust of wind that welcomed his birth."
The father nodded in agreement as he watched his sleeping child, peaceful and untroubled, oblivious to the weight of destiny that would one day rest upon his shoulders. He silently vowed to teach his son everything he needed to know about life—the harsh realities and the beautiful moments—so that he might grow into a man of strength, wisdom, and compassion.
What these new parents could not foresee was that their child was destined to become a king in the distant future—not just any king, but one of the most beloved and greatest sovereign of his time. He would become the most powerful, just, brave, and gracious ruler to ever walk the land.
August would grow to be a stalwart protector of his people, commanding respect from both allies and adversaries alike. Throughout the realms, he would become known as "Aetherbolt," the king who wielded the elemental forces of lightning, wind, and fire whenever he stepped onto the battlefield.
His mere presence would calm storms of conflict and ignite hope in the darkest hours. His judgments would be fair, his mercy legendary, and his wrath—when roused against injustice—would be as swift and unstoppable as a summer tempest.
His name would be etched in the annals of history, his deeds recounted in songs and tales long after his mortal body returned to the earth. For generations to come, children would gather around fires to hear stories of Aetherbolt, the king who changed the course of history with both his strength and his kindness.
But destiny, for all its grandeur, begins with small moments. For now, he was simply a newborn babe suckling at his mother's breast, tiny fingers curling around his father's weathered thumb, blissfully embracing the warmth of life newly given.
In this humble long house, witnessed only by his parents and the whispering wind, the legend of August "Aetherbolt" Finn had begun—not with lightning or crowns, but with a baby's first breath and the boundless love of those who would shape his earliest days.