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Callum had never had good luck with birthdays. Hell, his first birthday, the day he was born, his mom became very sick for months and months afterward. They’d been lucky Aunt Amaya had been there to care for them. The three always liked to joke that Callum was a birthday ghost carrying a little curse with him.
But now that joke felt all too real.
Birthdays weren’t always bad. On his third birthday, he met King Harrow in the street when he was running errands with Sarai. He didn’t remember much from that moment except that the King was extremely kind and very friendly to his mom.
Before he knew it, his mom was getting married, and they were living in a big castle with big rooms and big titles. His mom was now Queen Sarai, and himself Prince Callum. It was a big change, but with his mom’s help, he warmed up to his new life and stepdad.
That changed on another birthday: his little brother Ezran’s first birthday. He loved his little brother, especially now, he wouldn’t know what to do without him, but the moment he learned he was going to have a baby brother, he felt hurt.
He was excited for his mom but felt like his baby brother would only alienate him further. Callum stayed awake many nights thinking about how he wouldn’t be important anymore to either his mom or the King.
When Ezran’s birthday finally came, Callum thought he would look at the baby and his parents would finally realize they didn’t need him anymore. He thought Ezran was going to be the end of him, but when he opened the door and walked to his mom’s bedside, the King’s hand an encouraging presence on his shoulder, all that doubt faded away.
It was at that moment that Callum decided he loved birthdays. He saw his baby brother’s bright blue eyes and smile and vowed to love and protect him with his entire soul, forever. From that moment onward, the two were inseparable. Callum loved his baby brother, and he loved his mom and stepdad. Life was good.
Until it wasn’t.
It was almost to the end of the harvest. Callum learned very quickly that it didn’t matter how old he was; if he was near an adult that wanted to vent, he would have to listen. So he was aware of all the food shortages and worries that people had, so much so that he had nightmares and talked to his mom about it.
She was quick to assure him as always, but she went to speak with his tutor about telling a child about adult worries right after, while Callum waited for her to return, laying on her big comfy bed.
Callum did that a lot, he realized. Whenever he was distressed, he would go somewhere he knew his mother would return to, and wait for her. He loved to surprise her as a game, so memorizing her path each day and laying in wait to surprise her was key to his fun.
Callum was excited about his mom’s birthday, as he always was about birthdays now. He had a big surprise for her this year. Callum always had such fun drawing pictures for his mom, so this year he spent hours and hours on a huge portrait of her, the most beautiful person he knew.
Days before, when his mom was tucking him into bed, she told him, “Callum, your dad and I have something to do very far away, and it will take a few days to get there and come back.” Callum pouted.
“But Mom, what about your birthday?” he asked sadly. It was taking everything in him not to spoil the surprise for her.
His mom just smiled and pulled the heavy blanket up to his chin and kissed his forehead sweetly. “We’ll celebrate after, with gifts and lights and jelly tarts,” she said. “How does that sound?”
Callum smiled back, his previous disappointment overshadowed by his newfound excitement. “Ez likes jelly tarts just as much as you, Mom.” He giggled as she ruffled his fluffy hair.
“Yes, sweetheart. We’ll have a great time,” she assured him with a soft smile as she blew out the candle.
She may as well have blown out the candle on Callum’s whole life. After that night, Callum would never see her again, the light of his life.
He had waited for her, right where she promised, with her gift in hand. He saw the horses out his window and he rushed to the throne room to meet her and wish her a happy birthday.
But she never came.
King Harrow entered the throne room with a sorrowful expression.
“Where’s Mom?” Callum questioned the King. He knew something was wrong, where was she? She promised they would celebrate together. She always came back…
“Callum…” Harrow broke off for a moment before kneeling in front of him and placing both of his hands on the little boy's shoulders. “She’s not coming back.”
Callum’s world shattered, his candle blown out. Tears dripped out of his blurry eyes as his hands crushed the portrait in his hands. “No, no she promised,” he sobbed. “She promised,” he repeated over and over into King Harrow’s chest.
The Kingdom was in great mourning, and Callum hated receiving looks of pity whenever he left his room. The condolences and the looks and the shouts from his tutor didn’t stop for months after Sarai’s death.
“You ill-tempered, petulant child!” his tutor would scream, too mean to notice or have pity on a child in mourning for his mother. He spent days, weeks, months away from his family, escaping his nannies. He felt so empty.
His mother’s absence left a gaping hole in Callum’s heart. He didn’t think anything could ever repair it.
Then Harrow stepped in. He gave Callum hope for getting better, for healing. His words of encouragement were enough to get Callum out of bed and go play with his little brother, who he had missed so dearly when he grieved alone.
Callum’s heart continued to mend over the years but still had many cracks in its exterior. He was ten now, and it had been five years since his mom’s death. Only then had he been strong enough to gift Harrow something that changed their relationship for the better.
It was King Harrow’s birthday, and the three of them had chosen to have a private celebration with all the jelly tarts that the four-year-old could eat. It made Callum happy to see that Ezran had as much of a sweet tooth as his Mom.
Callum had anxiously awaited this day for what felt like forever. He had the perfect gift for his stepdad, a present sure to make him smile. At least that’s what Callum had expected: a pat on the back, a polite thank you, something like that.
He certainly didn’t account for tears, or hugs, or anything of that variety.
Callum had kept the portrait he drew of his mother on that cursed day in a drawer for years, only recently pulling it out as it got closer and closer to Harrow’s birthday. Callum debated back and forth with himself up until the night before whether or not to give it to his stepdad.
The portrait held memories, memories of love, better times, tragedy, sadness, and emptiness… was he ready to give that up to a man that he still didn’t fully believe loved him like a son? Callum knew the answer to that question the moment he asked it, so with a heavy heart, he put it carefully into a box with a red ribbon wrapped around it.
So there he was the same box in his shaky hands, handing it off to King Harrow and hauling Ez into his lap to hide his anxiety. Harrow smiled genuinely while opening the box, but that smile soon slacked as he realized what was inside. He pulled the portrait of his beloved Sarai out of the box and looked at Callum in surprise.
“Callum… this is beautiful,” he cried, pulling his boys into his arms and crying into Callum’s hair. Callum didn’t know what to do in that situation except cling to his stepdad and baby brother as his life depended on it.
He hadn’t accounted for a breakdown, and yet there he was, joining his stepdad in sobs and tears for a wife and mother, a woman beloved by both of them.
Since that day, Callum felt whole in a way he hadn’t since his mom died. He felt like someone had relit his candle, breathed new air into his lungs, and bandaged the cracks in his heart.
From that moment, he decided to become a person that his family could count on. He wanted to be someone his mom would be proud of, so that’s what he strived for.
Callum became a model student, no longer being called petulant by his tutor. He loved and cared for Ezran with as much intensity as Sarai did, and he lent a listening ear and a hug to the King whenever it was needed. Callum was happy, Callum was whole again.
So, naturally, it couldn’t stay that way.
Callum was fourteen when the castle was attacked by moon elf assassins. He wouldn’t realize it until later, but King Harrow, the man who had become like a father to him, was slain that night, the night that Callum and Ez had fled.
The night that Callum decided to run away, to be a coward. And because of that choice, he didn't even get a chance to say goodbye.
In the rational part of his brain, he understood that there was nothing that he could have done and that getting Zym to his mother was the most important thing he could do. But the irrational part still berated him and chipped the fixings in his heart that had been so desperately mended.
It wasn’t his fault, but it felt that way.
Callum’s heart couldn’t take it, with the sadness, guilt, and butterflies he kept feeling, he was an emotional wreck.
Callum noticed he didn’t mind the butterflies as much. Whenever Rayla was around, Callum felt whole again. He felt warm as if his candle was flickering back to life in a way it hadn’t since Sarai didn’t come back.
The moment he met the moon elf, he knew something was different about her. She radiated light and confidence and determination, and she had such a kind heart. And, even though it didn’t matter that much, Callum thought she was really pretty.
Callum rode an emotional high with these feelings invading his mind and heart constantly, and he was much happier with the hatching of Zym and how joyful it made his little brother. But, as per usual, neither of their happiness lasted.
Ezran found out about their dad’s death. All of Callum’s sadness and guilt came crashing into him like a wave that was too tall to swim over. He felt like he was drowning in those feelings, like anything good would immediately be squashed by them.
Often, they overwhelmed him, causing his throat to tighten up and tears to stream down his face. All of the loss and grief he felt in his life slapped him in the face whenever he panicked like that, but especially that time, all of those feelings were heightened.
But Rayla was there. She sat next to him, comforted him with her soothing voice, held onto him, and didn’t let him go. Callum clung to her, never wanting to let her go. He already lost his parents, he wouldn’t lose Rayla too.
Callum then realized, over the next month or so, that he had a crush on Rayla. Maybe not a crush; he previously had a crush on Claudia. This felt different, deeper. He felt like he could tell Rayla anything.
When Ezran returned to Katolis, leaving Callum and Rayla with no one but each other to return Zym to his mother, Callum was all too aware of how he felt about his friend.
Admittedly, Callum was scared. He didn’t want to lose her, to ruin whatever they had. He was sure his heart would break beyond repair if she left him. So he made sure he wouldn’t make her uncomfortable.
Callum certainly hadn’t expected Rayla to kiss him.
From then on, from the first time they kissed to when their relationship started, Callum felt truly happy again. He felt whole again, and the cracks in his heart were mending fast. Rayla brought him so much hope and love and joy; he didn’t know what he would do without her.
When they returned to Katolis after the Battle of the Storm Spire, Callum thought everything would be perfect. And it was, for a bit. For that short amount of time, Callum thought that his birthday curse had been lifted.
However, when he awoke on his fifteenth birthday, Rayla was nowhere to be seen. Callum remembered falling asleep against Rayla the night before as they talked about what to do on his birthday, so to see her missing confused him, but he hoped that she just got up early.
That hope vanished when he saw a letter addressed to him on his desk.
As his eyes scanned the page, he felt himself fading, becoming numb. Rayla was gone. She left him after she promised. She promised they would search for Viren together, she promised not to leave him.
Callum felt his chest tighten as he choked on a sob. The letter ended with a ‘Love, Rayla,’ as if she still could, leaving him like this. Callum sunk to the floor, taking one last look at Rayla’s familiar messy but beautiful handwriting.
He felt the same as he did when his mom didn’t come back. Another love lost another broken promise. She promised, she promised, They both promised.
Callum vaguely remembered trying to use the breathing method the healer taught him when he was young, but he failed to get his breathing under control.
The boy sobbed in anguish, making his way out to his balcony, looking for Rayla beyond the horizon as if she would be in sight. The rain soaked into his hair as a cold dread settled in his body. Rayla hated the rain, he thought miserably as he fell to his knees once again, clutching the letter tight in his hands, crumpling the already wet parchment.
“Rayla!” he shouted. He yelled her name until his throat was hoarse. The noise must have alerted a guard, because before he knew what was going on around him, Ezran and Soren were there, wrapping him in a warm hug.
The hug did nothing for the cold. Callum refused to leave the balcony, in case he saw Rayla, to see her once more. Soren had to lift him up and carry him inside.
Ezran stayed up all night with Callum, crying with him and latching onto him like a leech. Callum barely recognized his presence; the only thing he said the whole night was a twisted song of ‘Happy Birthday.’
“Happy birthday to me,” he cried.
It seemed his curse was one he was always burdened to carry. Rayla made sure of that.