Iron and Mikael

In a world where the nobility stands above the commoners, where kindness is rarer than work for the poor, life has never been fair. In a distant city, there lived a boy named Iron. When he was five, he witnessed something no one that age should see: his parents being beaten simply for fun. From then on, the world shattered for him.
His appearance contrasted sharply with the drab street. His shaggy, snow-white hair fell to his shoulders, there were permanent dark circles under his eyes, and his icy blue eyes, faintly hazy, made people involuntarily avert their gaze. For fourteen, he was tall and thin, concealed under a wide, dark cloak to appear like a useless boy.
The gods, taking pity on him that day, cut a fragment from his flesh—a second boy named Mikael. He resembled Iron: the same white hair, only longer, reaching his waist, the same shadows of character, but without the traces of insomnia. His amber eyes shone faintly, as if reflecting the moonlight. Mikael could take the form of any weapon: a scythe, a blade, a bow—and each one shone with heavenly silver.
One day, as they were strolling through the market together, the calm was shattered by the sound of hooves. A carriage. Nobility, then. People instantly flocked to the center of the square. Iron and Mikael were reluctant to go—they remembered all too well how the presence of commoners usually ended. But they were literally pushed into the crowd.
The nobles emerged from the carriage—radiant, cold, and arrogant. The people around them fawned and bowed, but our boys stood aside until they were noticed. Insulting words began to rain down. Someone threw fruit at them, someone laughed. They were like sheep driven into a corner—without the right to speak, without the right to look up.
And that evening, they were forced to attend a ball to which commoners were not invited. But no one intended to honor them—only more humiliation, more wounds, more ridicule.
And there, in the shining hall, where the candelabra glowed and the shadows of the nobility stretched along the walls, their story began to unfold in earnest.