As he closed his eyes, his life flashed before his eyes. Starting from birth, adolescence, adulthood, and then his death. He had witnessed his homeland decline from prosperity and died with regret for all the comrades he lost. Only to find himself a...
"Happy birthday to you... Happy birthday to you... Happy birthday... Happy birthday... Happy birthday to yoooouuuu...!"
The air crackled with a warmth that had little to do with the string lights crisscrossing the Roguerider residence's living room. Laughter erupted every few seconds, punctuating the soft hum of chatter and clattering silverware amidst his father's stories and the hushed conspiratorial giggles of his friends. In the center of it all, a mop of silver hair bobbed above a table laden with homemade delicacies, presided over by a softly smiling boy with eyes the color of a deep blue ocean. Fifteen birthday candles, flickering like fireflies trapped in wax, cast dancing shadows on the boy's handsome face.
This was Meteos Roguerider, and today, he was fifteen years old.
Even though he was basking in the eddies of joy emanated by family and friends around him, Meteos stared at the flames with a reflection of things he always kept closed from anyone else. He wasn't just Meteos Roguerider, a fifteen-year-old brimming with the usual teenage anxieties. He was also Meteos Roguerider, the Grand Mage from a future where people live in glitters but none seemed to be happy—a future that had yet to see a true world-ending apocalypse but a future guaranteed to be destroyed by the Civilization Annihilation Game regardless. This day, exactly ten years ago, he had made a decision that had brought him this far on the journey through the decade.
A hand squeezed his own, the warmth pulling him back from the precipice of his thoughts. It was his mother, her smile tinged with a knowing weariness. "What are you thinking, dear?" she asked gently.
Once faltered into a contemplative look, Meteos managed to return her question with a smile and shook his head. "Many things... and a feeling that this is only the beginning of those things."
Meteora's giggle in response turned into a melodic chime, trailing off playfully. "Just many things? Aren't that just the usual you? Well, make sure one of them is a wish, or those poor candles might feel cheated," she winked playfully.
"Heh... Yeah, don't worry about that, I've made up my mind."
Taking a deep breath, Meteos gathered the scattered thread of his resolve. He looked at the flames and wished. Not for candy palaces or fantastical trinkets, but for something far more elusive and precious.
"May our happiness... and victories... multiply..."
With a single, swift burst of air, he extinguished all fifteen of the candles, their tiny flames morphing into wisps of smoke that spun upwards carrying his whispered wish on their invisible wings.
"Amen."
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