The wind moved across the blood-stained horizon, tugging gently at the war banners of the Sun Clan. The sky hung heavy–neither bright–nor dim–caught in that eternal pause between dusk and dawn, as though the heavens themselves were holding their breath.
At the heart of the Sun Clan's citadel, three figures stood cloaked in silence.
Grandmaster Solarius, rigid as stone, his golden cloak catching the faint glow of the sunfire brazier.
Elder Zephyr, still and composed, yet his eyes roamed like a predator's ever seeking, ever seeing.
And beside them, veiled in moonlight, stood High Lady Nymera, the Moon Clan's sovereign–her expression unreadable, her silver robes flowing like water under the starlight.
They awaited news.
No messenger came.
No raven flew.
Only the wind…until it carried the sound of hooves.
Far in the distance, the faint silhouettes of returning soldiers emerged–riders of the golden sun, cloaked in battle ash and sorrow.
The rhythm of their horses echoed like war drums across the stone courtyard, but Rhys rode at the front–his armor cracked, bloodstained, and eyes darkened with what seemed like grief.
Grandmaster Solarius narrowed his gaze, scanning beyond them.
"...Where is Kael?" he asked under his breath.
"Where is the boy?"
But the riders carried no child. No Kael.
Rhys dismounted with reverence, kneeling before the three leaders.
"Grandmaster. Elders," he said, voice low.
"I bring grave news."
Solarius stepped forward, fists clenched.
"Where is Kael, Rhys?"
"Where is the child?"
Rhys hesitated, eyes lowered.
"We found them. My brother...and the child. I needed…I wanted to speak with him. Alone. But then…"he looked up, eyes burning–
"We were attacked."
Elder Zephyr's voice sliced through the tension, calm yet sharp.
"Attacked? By who?"
Rhys turned sharply to High Lady Nymera.
"The Moon Clan," he said.
"They ambushed us. Assassins. Blades drawn with no warning."
High Lady Nymera didn't flinch.
Solarius turned to her, rage trembling in his voice.
"Your clan dares break the sacred truce?"
She raised her hand slowly, her face unreadable.
"Where is your proof, Rhys? Why throw the blame to mask your failure?"
Rhys reached into his cloak–and from within, pulled a silver crest, engraved with the Moon Clan's sigil, stained in dried blood.
Gasps broke the silence.
Nymera's eyes flared–but she remained silent.
Rhys' voice deepened.
"They feared what the boy might become. A child of Kael and Liora? A fire and spirit heir? That bloodline means nothing to the Moon Clan but danger. They wanted them gone."
Solarius roared,
"The cunning poison of your clan knows no end! You cloak your treachery in shadows and silvered lies!"
Nymera finally spoke, her voice cold as a winter tide.
"I did what was necessary. For the balance of the clans. For the future."
Zephyr's voice rose, thundered masked in silk.
"And where are they now? Kael. Liora. The child?"
Rhys closed his eyes.
"...Gone. All of them. Slain."
A long silence followed.
Solarius stumbled back, his breath ragged. Then Rhys drew something else from his cloak: Kael's sun-crest pendant.
He handed it to the Grandmaster without a word.
Solarius held it…and wept without weeping. His shoulders crumbled, but his eyes burned.
Zephyr watched everything.
He watched Rhys lie.
And he said nothing.
Until–
"The Spirit Clan," Zephyr announced, voice firm, "is no longer united with either of you. We walk our own path now."
And he turned, vanishing into the wind.
The Sun and Moon stared at each other across the ruins of their alliance.
Nymera's eyes shimmered with unspoken rage.
"So be it," she said.
"If it's war you desire…"
"You started this war," Solarius spat.
Rhys watched them both, quietly gripping the reins of his horse. His thoughts whispered only to himself:
And so the flame flickers…the spirit fades…and the world begins to burn.
A gentle wind moved across the ethereal sky, its voice mournful, like it carried the last cries of a broken world. Somewhere far beyond the reach of the living, in a realm untouched by war, the boy opened his eyes.
Leon stirred, his breathing ragged. His silver-blue hair was disheveled, clinging to his face as he sat upright on the soft, luminous ground. A dull ache pulsed behind his forehead. His heart thudded faster when his memories surged back.
The flames. The screams. His parents. His village.
His eyes widened with terror. Tears rushed down his cheeks.
"Mum…? Dad…?"
"Everyone…where…where is everyone?!"
He cried out, his voice raw, echoing into the boundless silence of the Spirit Realm. But there was no answer.
At first.
Then a soft glow emerged from the horizon. From it stepped a figure–graceful, calm, otherworldly. A woman, her long flowing robes moving like mist, her presence ancient and powerful.
She had the same violet aura as Leon's mother.
Leon's breath caught.
"Who...who are you?"
She walked closer and knelt beside him, her expression gentle but unreadable.
"I am Miya, spirit guardian of your mother, Liora," she said.
Leon blinked.
"Miya…? You were…the giant…when you saved me."
She nodded slowly.
"Yes. That was my true form in battle. But here, I take the shape of your understanding. In this realm, form is bound by spirit, not flesh."
Leon's voice trembled.
"Why am I here…? Where is my mother? Where's my father?"
"Your mother gave everything to ensure your survival. You were brought here…to keep you safe. Your father's whereabouts are unknown. You're in the Spirit Realm now–between life and what lies beyond it. No one can find you here."
Leon tried to stand, but his legs gave out.
"You must rest," Miya said, placing a warm hand on his back.
"In time, I will teach you how to awaken your spiritual power..how to control it. You are not ordinary, Leon. You carry the fire of two great bloodlines."
Leon looked down, his fists clenched.
"There was a man…spiky hair, full beard. He fired the arrow that…" His voice broke
Miya's eyes flickered.
"Ravik," she whispered under her breath.
Leon looked up at her again.
"Why did they kill my parents? Why did they destroy everything?"
A pause. Miya's silence grew heavy.
"You are not ready for the truth. Not yet," she said.
"Some truths burn more than they reveal. You must grow. Only when your spirit is strong enough will the answers come."
Leon didn't speak, but something shifted in his gaze. Not just grief now–resolve. Something buried, awakening.
"Why…?" he asked again, more forcefully.
"Why did they do it?"
Miya's eyes stirred uneasily. There was power in this child, no doubt. But there was something else too–a fire too wild to control.
"I told you, not now–"
Leon stood shakily.
"Tell me!"
But Miya only held his hand and guided him forward.
"Come, Leon. It's time you see the realm that will shape your spirit."
As they walked, the world around them unfolded–trees with crystalline leaves, streams that sang like harps, skies layered with constellations unknown to any mortal map. It was beautiful. Serene. Eternal.
Leon's gaze lingered on the glowing horizon.
He whispered, almost to himself:
"They took my world and gave me theirs…"
He looked down at his hand–now faintly glowing
"I wonder how much I'll need to break before they beg to take it back."
Then he smiled.
"Lead the way."