Storm clouds gathered over the high sanctum of Eldara, the ancient stone citadel that crowned the cliffs of neutral ground. It was here that the grand councils were summoned in times of great peril–and never before had the winds that circled its spires carried such dread.
Elder Zephyr stood at the heart of the stone circle, his sliver robes glistering faintly with the dew of the Spirit Realm. His eyes–once calm, eternal–now held the weight of too many visions, too many losses. His hands trembled slightly as he held his staff, not from age, but from what he had just seen beyond the veil.
The great doors cracked open.
One by one, the clan leaders arrived–each escorted by their finest guards, warriors clad in armor gleaming with quiet power.
Solarius, Grandmaster of the Fire Clan, was the last to arrive–robed in crimson and gold, eyes hard like sun-baked stone. His presence radiated authority…and unease.
Elder Zephyr did not wait long.
"I have summoned you here because the tide of fate has shifted. The child of Prophecy–my blood, my daughter Liora's son–has been found. And he is in danger."
The room fell silent. Even the air itself seemed to hold its breath.
Zephyr lifted his hand, palm glowing with spirit-light. A shimmer of vision rose above it–a swirl of images: flames devouring a peaceful valley, villagers feeling, soldiers cloaked in crimson, and Liora, protecting a child with a shield of light.
"The Fire Clan," Zephyr said bitterly, "has raised the sanctuary where Liora sought peace. They hunt the child."
Solarius stepped forward, voice clipped and cold.
"I sent my son Rhys to retrieve Kael and the boy. Nothing more. If fire burns, it was not my command."
"Lies!" Zephyr snapped, his voice suddenly thunderous–a storm behind ancient eyes.
"You sent a wolf into the fold and pretended to be surprised at blood on its teeth?"
Before the two men could collide with words sharper than blades, a new voice rose–soft, elegant, precise.
"Then let us speak plainly," said High Lady Nymera, the Moon Clan's matriarch. Her silver crown shimmered as she stepped forward, dark brown hair cascading like ink under moonlight and eyes glinting like starlight–pale silver, cold and unreadable.
"Who exactly, are the parents of the Child of Prophecy? Is it truly…Kael and your daughter, Elder Zephyr?"
Murmurs rippled through the chamber. Others whispered in their native tongues, hands twitching over weapons.
Zephyr didn't flinch.
"Yes. Against the will of fate or law…but love bloomed. And the prophecy took root in their union."
A silence heavier than war settled in the chamber.
Then–the cry of a hawk. A messenger bird swooped in through the high windows, its wings whispering over stone. It circled once, then landed on Solarius' shoulder, talons tight, eyes glowing.
Solarius untied the scroll from its leg and read it aloud–his voice low, trembling with restrained triumph:
"Kael and the boy have been found. Silver-blue hair. Golden eyes. The child matches the signs. Rhys is closing in."
He looked up, and smiled faintly.
"They will be brought back. Alive. Then we decide."
Nymera's lips curled.
"And who decides, Solarius? You? She turned to the council."
"If Kael and Liora have broken ancient law, borne a child in secret, then he belongs to no clan. Kael of Fire. Liora of Spirit. A child forged in fire and soul. Fated. Tell me, who will claim him?"
Solarius stepped forward, firelight glowing in his eyes.
"He will serve the Fire Clan. I will raise him as I did Kael."
Zephyr's staff slammed into the stone.
"You will not touch him."
The chamber roared with overlapping voices, fury, confusion, ambition–until Nymera raised her hand again, calm and cold.
"We wait. Rhys may bring them. Or he may not. Either way…blood will crown the choice."
Solarius' smile faded.
"Rhys never fails"
Zephyr turned his back on them all, cloak sweeping behind him like a storm cloud.
"Then let us pray, for all our sakes….that he doesn't fail."
The forest moved as if in mourning. Leaves trembled under the weight of smoke-drenched air. Liora staggered forward, her legs bruised, breath shallow, cradling Leon in her arms like he was the last hope of the world–because he was.
She found a hollow behind an ancient stone, moss-covered and forgotten by time. With trembling hands, she set Leon down, brushing the silver-blue strands from his eyes. Her voice, low and fragile, was a contrast to the chaos unraveling in the distance.
"Stay here, Leon," she said, stroking his cheek.
"Mum has to help Dad."
Leon shook his head violently, his golden eyes glistering.
"No! I'll go with you. I won't let you go alone!"
Liora wrapped her arms around him, holding on as if she could press her strength into his heart.
"I need you to be safe," she whispered.
"For us…for the future."
She kissed his forehead gently–a silent promise–and turned, sprinting back into the inferno that had once been their home.
Leon sat, stunned by the stillness. His hands trembled, his small chest rising and falling as sobs escaped him. He didn't understand why the world was shattering. Why their village–full of laughter, warmth, and peace–was now reduced to screams and fire.
He crawled out of the hollow and climbed to a nearby hill. Wind whipped through his hair as he looked down at the valley below.
The sight stole the breath from his lungs.
Villagers fled in all directions. The Fire Clan soldiers, cloaked in red and gold, painted the air with destruction. He saw his mother, Liora, standing like a wall of light–casting shields, healing the wounded, fighting to protect the helpless. Her energy glowed soft and silver, brilliant against the flames.
But there was–
"Dad…" Leon whispered.
No sign of Kael.
The chill ran through his spine.
Leon ran back to the village, his heart aching, a burning ache. From the nape of his neck, where the ancient mark pulsed–faint at first, then brighter…and brighter.
While running through the screams, through the chaos, a scream caught in his throat, half grief, half fury.
"Why is this happening?!" he cried.
"Mum! Dad! My village! My people!"
The mark flared like wildfire. Strange energy coiled from his skin, invisible threads of pure spirit. The air grew dense. The clouds above churned. Arrows screamed toward him–but shattered mid-air, disintegrating before they touched his aura.
Far away, Liora felt it.
She stumbled mid-spell, gasping as a dark pressure swept over her like a wave.
"No…" she whispered.
"Leon…"
She turned, heart racing, spirit fraying, and ran back through ash and fire, leaping over broken carts, past crying children. When she saw him–standing in a swirl of glowing energy, crying and shaking, she rushed to him.
Leon collapsed into her arms, trembling.
"Mum…why?"
"Why is everything breaking?"
Liora held him tight, her hands shaking just as much as his.
"I don't know, little amber… I don't know."
And then–
Liora spun, arms wide, body a shield.
The arrow struck.
A sharp gasp escaped her lips.
Blood soaked through her robe. She dropped to one knee.
"MUM!"
"I'm fine," she whispered, smiling through the pain.
"Just a scratch…"
He knew it wasn't.
And she knew there was no more time.
The earth trembled beneath them as she whispered ancient words, her voice now a song of power and sorrow.
Above them, the skies opened.
A beam of pure light struck the ground like lightning.
And from it rose her Guardian Spirit– a towering form of translucent power, shaped like a celestial warrior, cloaked in robes of light. It knelt before her massive head bowed.
"Master…" it rumbled.
"Shall I exchange my life for yours?"
Liora's voice cracked.
"No, take him."
"Keep him safe."
Leon gripped her hands.
"No! I won't leave you."
She cupped his cheeks, smiling through tears.
"You must live, Leon. You are the last light."
The Guardian nodded, her voice a vow etched in time.
"Then I shall carry the world's flame."
He scooped Leon into her arms, wings of light unfolding as the ground beneath them split with fire. The sky roared as he ascended, carrying the sobbing boy high above the carnage.
Leon looked down, one final time.
He saw his mother…bleeding, kneeling, still watching him with love even as soldiers closed in.
"Farewell, Liora, Daughter of Spirit. Keeper of the Flame." the Guardian whispered as they rose.
"Your light shall echo beyond the veil."