When We Were Seventeen

Chapter One: The Boy Who Dreamed of Thunder Elon had always felt that the sky was alive. Not in the poetic way the elders of his village described it—soft, blue, benevolent—but in the fierce way a restless animal waits behind a cage. The skies above Terravale Valley were known for their temper, rolling dark clouds at the slightest hint of imbalance. Elon felt them long before others did. The air around him would tighten, the back of his neck prickled, and the world held its breath. He never told anyone about it—not even Holly. Holly, who knew everything about him. Holly, who never laughed at the strange, the unusual, the unbelievable. Holly, who lived in the cottage over the hill and smelled faintly of oak leaves and honey from her mother’s apothecary work. Holly, whose eyes were so bright and green that Elon often wondered if the forest itself had gifted her its color. The two of them had been inseparable since childhood, bound by curiosity, daring, and a pull neither of them had ever questioned. On the morning everything changed, Elon woke to the thunder. Not the physical rumble that shook houses in the valley, but the internal one—roaring through his veins, pulsing with an urgency that had no name. He rose from his straw bed, pushing aside the wool blanket and stepping into the cold dawn air drifting through his cracked window. The sky was unusually clear, yet he felt the storm humming under it. “Elon!” His mother’s voice echoed up the wooden stairs. “If you’re awake, fetch water from the well before the sun climbs.” He had half a mind to ignore it—every instinct screamed at him that something was coming—but he forced himself to grab the empty bucket. Routine. Normalcy. Anything to quiet the storm inside him. When he stepped outside, the air felt charged. Even the birds seemed to sense it, their songs sharper, quicker. Halfway down the path to the well, he saw Holly. She was sitting on the stone edge, her legs dangling over the side, her hands wrapped around the warm mug of something steaming. Her autumn-brown hair caught the early sunlight like threads of gold. “You feel it too,” she said without turning. Elon froze. “How did you” She slid off the well and turned to him. “I didn’t need to read your mind. Look at the sky.” He glanced upward. From horizon to horizon, thin cracks of shimmering silver appeared across the blue morning as though someone was etching runes on the heavens. “Is it a storm?” he asked. “No.” Holly stepped closer. “ of dread. “From the other side. Chapter Two: The Skyfall The Rune Lines grew brighter by the hour. By midday, everyone in Terravale Valley had left their houses, necks craned upward, whispering prayers and prophecies. Elders claimed it was an omen. Farmers claimed it was the gods. Children claimed it was magic. Elon and Holly stood on the ridge overlooking the valley, their breath mingling in the tightening air. “I’ve seen these in drawings,” Holly murmured. “In Grandma’s hidden books. She said they only appear when the Starborn are near.” “The Starborn?” Elon frowned. “Aren’t those just old legends?” “No.” Her voice was steady. “They’re real. Or at least… the people who believed the legends were sure they were.” Elon’s attention snapped upward as a beam of sudden light shot through the Rune Lines, slicing the sky in half. There was no thunder. There was only silence. Then the world fractured. A sphere of blinding white burst downward, trailing streaks of silver behind it. It hit the far side of the valley with a tremor that shook the ground beneath their feet. Holly grabbed Elon’s arm to steady herself. “That wasn’t a star.” “No,” he said. “It was falling too slow. Almost… controlled.” They exchanged a look—one that contained a thousand shared risks, a thousand moments of courage. Without a word, they ran toward the impact site. The wind grew colder as they approached. The trees were coated in frost despite the warm season, and the grass crackled under their boots. At the center of the clearing, smoke curled upward from a crater. “Elon…” Holly whispered. “Do you feel that?” Yes. He felt it stronger than he ever had—the storm inside him was reacting, pulling him forward. They climbed to the edge of the crater and froze. Inside was a person. A girl—no older than them, maybe younger—with a body wrapped in pale silver light. Her hair floated around her like the night sky, full of tiny stars. She wasn’t dead. Her chest rose and fell in slow, rhythmic breaths. “What… is she?” Holly whispered. Elon didn’t know. But he couldn’t stop staring. Something about her tugged at the storm inside him, drawing it toward her like a magnet. “We have to help her,” he said. “Elon—” Before Holly could protest, he slid into the crater and knelt beside the glowing girl. The moment his hand brushed her shoulder, her eyes snapped open. They were not human eyes. They were made of galaxies. “You are the one,” she said, her voice layered with echoes. “The Stormbearer.” “What?” Elon blinked. “I’m just—” “No.” She reached up, touching his forehead with trembling fingers. “Your power is awakening. And if you don’t learn to control it… the Gate will consume you.” Holly climbed down after him, protective, suspicious. “Who are you?” The girl’s light flickered. “My name… is Lyra. I came to warn you.” “Warn him of what?” Holly demanded. Lyra’s expression darkened with ancient fear. “The Shadow King has breached the Realmveil. He is coming here… for the Stormbearer.” Elon felt his heartbeat stutter. “Why me?” “Because,” Lyra whispered, “your power is the only thing that can open the Starborn Gate. And if he opens it first… your world will end. Chapter Three: The Stormbearer’s Mark Elon wanted to deny it. He wanted to reject every impossible word Lyra had spoken, to cling to the small, quiet life he understood. But as they helped Lyra out of the crater, he felt something shifting inside him—like the crack in the sky had also cracked something within. Lyra barely managed to stand. Holly kept a firm grip around her, watching her with both concern and suspicion. “We need to get her somewhere safe,” Holly said. “My mother will know how to help her heal.” Before Elon could answer, Lyra shook her head. “No village is safe now. The moment I fell, the Shadow King felt it. His Seekers will find us.” “Seekers?” Holly asked. “Creatures that hunt light.” Lyra’s voice trembled. “Creatures born from darkness.” A sharp gust cut through the clearing, bending the trees. Elon shivered. Lyra’s head snapped toward the forest. “They’re already here.” Elon and Holly exchanged a panicked look. From the shadows between the trees, shapes emerged—bodies made of black smoke, eyes burning with red light. Six of them. Then eight. Then twelve. “Elon,” Holly whispered, stepping in front of him instinctively. “Run.” But the storm inside Elon surged. Electricity tingled along his arms, sparks dancing across his fingertips. Lyra’s eyes widened. “Your power… it’s awakening too fast.” “What power?” Elon’s voice shook. “The storm within you,” Lyra said. “You are tied to the archon of thunder. A Stormbearer is born once every thousand years.” “That can’t be real.” Holly grabbed his hand. “Elon, whether it’s real or not… they’re getting closer.” The Seekers hissed, their bodies rippling like shadows in water. One lunged. Elon reacted without thinking. Light exploded from his palm in a burst of blue lightning, striking the creature mid-air. It shrieked and dissolved into ash. Holly stared, wide-eyed. “Elon… you have magic.” “No,” he whispered, trembling. “Magic has me.” Lyra pushed herself forward, her body still glowing weakly. “Your power is unstable. If you keep using it without training, it will burn you from the inside.” “Then what do we do?” Elon demanded. Lyra pointed to the mountains that bordered the valley. “We must reach the Starborn Gate. It is the only place where you can learn to control your power.” Holly interjected, fierce and unwavering. “If he goes, I go. I’m not leaving him.” Lyra looked at Holly for a long moment. “Stormbearers are rare. But Lightguides… even rarer.” “Holly?” Elon asked, confused. “What does that mean?” Holly asked. “It means your destinies are tied,” Lyra whispered. “And if one of you falls… the other cannot survive. Chapter Four: Through the Frostwood The journey to the mountains began that night. Lyra insisted they move under the cover of darkness, away from open roads. The Seekers hunted by sensing energy, and Elon’s newly awakened power made him a beacon. They trekked through the Frostwood, its ancient trees shimmering with silver moss that glowed faintly in the dark. Holly walked beside Elon, her hand occasionally brushing his. Every time their fingers touched, the storm inside him settled slightly. Lyra noticed. “A Lightguide stabilizes a Stormbearer,” she explained. “Your bond keeps his power from overwhelming him.” Holly flushed. “We’re just friends.” Lyra smiled faintly. “Perhaps now. But the Gate reveals truth.” Elon felt heat creep up his neck, though the forest air was cold. Hours passed. Holly asked questions, always wanting to understand. Elon stayed quiet, troubled by the weight of everything he had learned. Suddenly, Lyra froze. “Stay behind me.” The forest grew silent—unnaturally silent. Elon strained his senses… and felt it. A presence. Dark. Heavy. Drawn to him. A single Seeker stepped into the path ahead. This one was different. Taller, more solid. Its eyes glowed with deeper crimson. “A Hunter,” Lyra breathed. “Stronger than the others.” The Hunter opened its mouth, and a voice like grinding stone spilled out. “Stormbearer… come.” Elon felt his knees weaken, but Holly grabbed his hand, anchoring him. Lyra raised both arms. “Get ready.” The Hunter launched forward. Lyra struck first, sending a beam of silver light into the creature, but it barely flinched. Holly dragged Elon aside as the Hunter slammed into a tree, splintering it in half. “Elon!” Holly shouted. “You have to use your power!” “No—I’ll lose control!” “You won’t,” she said urgently. “I’m here. You won’t.” The Hunter lunged again. Elon instinctively threw his arm out. Lightning erupted from his palm, wild and unstable. The blast struck the Hunter, tearing a hole through its chest. But the creature didn’t fall. It kept coming. Lyra yelled, “Elon! Combine with Holly—focus on her light!” Elon didn’t understand what that meant… until Holly grabbed his wrist, pressed her hand against his. A warmth spread through him—gentle, steady, balancing the chaos. The lightning changed. It turned white. Pure. Controlled. Together, they unleashed it. The blast engulfed the Hunter, disintegrating it instantly. The shockwave shook the ground, rippling through the Frostwood. Elon collapsed to his knees, panting. Holly dropped beside him, holding his shoulders. “You did it,” she whispered. “