Twenty-three years ago…

Lyn was sitting outside the monastery, on the steps of the patio of the Northern courtyard watching the children at play when Elder Palos approached her. At first, the old man merely stood beside her as she sat in her chair, and he said nothing. His eyes, it seemed, were focused entirely on the children.

They were running. Laughing. They were playing some game with its own arcane rules that an adult could never hope to divine. As Lyn and the Elder watched, Venter managed to tackle Alden to the ground, which left him open for little Ruri to throw herself onto his back.

“Play nice!” Lyn called out to them, and the children disentangled themselves from one another before resuming their game.

There were four children at play. Ruri was Lyn’s daughter, a bright and cheerful little thing with dark hair and an infectious smile and an even more infectious laugh. She was the smallest of the group. Her friend Tinla played as well—a rosy cheeked and golden haired young girl, the kind that everyone agreed would one day grow up to be a true beauty.

Then there were the two boys, the ones adopted by the Order of Twilight. Venter, with his pale skin and his dark hair, had been the child given to Lyn, while Alden, with his tan skin and bright, almost white, shock of hair, had been weaned on Tinla’s mother.

They were strong lads, full of life and energy, and even at this young age they could already be called handsome. Both, it seemed to Lyn, were natural leaders. They could easily convince the other children to go along with whatever games or ideas they had dreamed up today. All the children, that is, except for each other.

Yet despite this, the two boys rarely butted heads. Instead, they seemed to prefer to conspire together, often refining their ideas between themselves before presenting the plan to the other children. Even the bigger kids, like Lyn’s nephew Garius, often found themselves following the two boys’ lead.

“Four years,” Elder Palos said, his voice wistful. “It seems like only yesterday that they came to us as orphan babes. Now they run and laugh and speak on their own accord.”

“They years have gone by quickly,” Lyn agreed. “I often must remind myself that my little Ruri is no longer a newborn.”

“They will begin schooling soon,” said Elder Palos.

“I know,” said Lyn. “I can scarcely believe it.”

There were precious few places around Twilit Temple where the land was flat, and the Northern courtyard was one of those few. A six foot wall of stone formed a protective barrier that blocked off the sheer cliff edges that surrounded the little courtyard, and within that barrier were a handful of trees that bloomed with flowers which would soon become fruit. The children happily used the trunks as cover for their little game, hiding behind the trees until one of their fellows chased them from their spot.

Tinla ducked behind one now, evidently thinking to use stealth to ambush the others. But she could not stop herself from giggling, nor had she chosen a particularly opportune time to make her gambit—Venter had been looking in her direction and had obviously seen her taking cover. He motioned to the other two children and pointed at the tree that Tinla hid behind, and Alden and Ruri both responded with wide grins. The three darted for the tree from different directions.

Alden reached her first, and there was a cry of surprise as Tinla realized, with apparently genuine disbelief, that she had been found already. The girl dashed from behind the tree and ran directly into Ruri. The little one fell down on her bottom, but immediately bounced back up to her feet and chased after the taller, golden-haired girl, laughing all the while.

For her part, Tinla was so focused on evading Ruri and Alden that she was completely unprepared for Venter to capture her.

“I have no earthly idea how I’ll get them to sit still for their lessons,” the Elder muttered under his breath.

Lyn looked away from the children in surprise and raised an eyebrow at Elder Palos. “Sir?”

He sighed. “I shall be personally seeing to the boys’ education,” he explained. “From the moment they start their schooling, their tutelage will be under the supervision of the Elder of the Order.”

A frown formed on Lyn’s face. This was highly unorthodox, that the Elder himself would teach children, even children who were the Order’s wards. There were plenty of acolytes who were usually tasked with such matters.

“Are they truly that important?” she asked.

Elder Palos was silent for a moment. His eyes remained fixed on the playing children, tracking the boys in particular as they rolled about in the dirt. Tinla had apparently decided that the best way to escape from Venter’s grasp was to tickle him, and thus the boy was presently too distracted with laughter to keep hold of her.

“All children are of great importance,” Elder Palos said at last.

It was an evasion of the question, and an obvious one at that. Lyn continued staring at the Elder, and narrowed her eyes. He noticed and smiled.

“You have your mother’s steel,” he said.

“So I’ve been told.”

Elder Palos sighed once more. “Alden and Venter represent our future,” he said. “Not just the future of our Order—the future of us all. They were born under certain circumstances. Circumstances which we have been awaiting since the founding of the Twilight.”

Lyn’s eyes widened as comprehension dawned. “You cannot mean…?”

“I do,” said Elder Palos, looking back at the children. There was sorrow on his face. “Those boys are the Avatars of Dawn and Dusk. And when they reach adulthood, one of them must kill the other.”