For nearly a thousand years, the dark races had almost conquered every continent in the world.
But in the far south, one land remained untouched: Velmora.
On this continent stood the Kingdom of Morven, the center of human civilization for centuries, with four major cities: Morven City (Central District, the capital), Morven City (Western District), Carlnder, and Ferlmore.
Farther north, in the quieter, more remote region, lay three small villages: Valiri, Iaelren, and Vetheven.
And in one of those villages, a boy named Alfair Elarion had been dreaming the same dream, every single night, for the past five years.
Each night, in the deep stillness of sleep, he found himself in a strange world that felt far too real. He was always a baby—helpless, his body small and stiff, unable to move or speak, yet his mind remained conscious. He could only watch, feel, and remember.
He would lie in a crib, side by side with another baby. The face was always unclear, blurry—no matter how often he saw it, he could never recognize it. Around them, chaos raged—screams, distant explosions, shaking walls, as if time and place were tearing apart. The air was thick with smoke and a deep, suffocating fear.
Then, the door would slam open.
A woman rushed in, gasping for breath. Her face pale, her eyes filled with panic and fierce determination.
She ran straight to the crib, scooped up both babies, and turned to flee.
But before she could take a single step—
A dark figure appeared.
It was massive, shapeless, its very presence choking the air. Two glowing red eyes stared directly at them. The world froze. Even in his small, unmoving body, Alfair felt the chill creep down his spine.
And always—at that exact moment—he would wake up.
Gasping for air, drenched in cold sweat, his heart pounding as if the dream had followed him into the real world.
He didn't know who the other baby was. He didn't know the woman. He didn't know that dark figure.
But he knew one thing—
It wasn't just a dream.
It was an unfinished memory.
---
"Ugh... huhff..." Alfair gasped, clutching his head.
"That dream again…" he whispered.
He got out of bed, stepped outside, and sat on a large stone in front of his home—waiting for the sunrise, as always.
"I don't understand… why does that dream keep coming every night?" he murmured, hugging his knees.
He looked at his right hand, clenching it tightly.
"Who is that dark figure?"
Then he looked at his left hand, where a warm light glowed softly beneath his skin.
"Who's the other baby… and… who is that woman?"
"You had that dream again, Alfie?" came Balia's voice from the doorway.
Alfair flinched.
"Huh? Ah… yeah, Grandpa. I had it again," he replied wearily.
Balia walked over and sat beside him.
"You know, Alfie… sometimes, the most important things we've forgotten find their way back to us through dreams."
"So you think… it's not just a dream?" Alfair asked, his eyes clouded with doubt.
Balia sighed.
"Well… I can't say for sure. Maybe it's a message. Maybe just a nightmare. But don't ignore what it leaves behind."
For a moment, silence hung between them.
Then Alfair looked up at his grandfather, uncertain.
"Grandpa… who am I?"
"Hah? What kind of question is that? You're my grandson, of course," Balia said, smiling as he gently ruffled Alfair's hair.
"I know… but that's not what I mean."
Alfair stared into his grandfather's eyes.
"Why… why do I have both of these elements inside me?"
He raised his left hand, glowing with warm light. Then his right—where a dark aura curled around his fingers like smoke.
"Alfie… listen, kid. That power is inside you because you're special," Balia said calmly. His gaze was steady, gentle—but firm.
"But why me…? I can accept the light… but the darkness…"
Before he could finish, Balia cut in.
"Kid, whether it's light or darkness—it's part of who you are. You didn't choose them. They chose you. And maybe… it's because you're meant for something greater. Accept them both… the same way you accept yourself."
Alfair said nothing. He just looked down, letting his grandfather's words echo in the quiet.
The sun began to rise. Its first light touched the dew-soaked treetops, casting reflections across the clear, flowing river nearby.
As if the world still had no idea… that darkness was coming.
---
"Beautiful…" Alfair whispered, eyes fixed on the changing sky.
Balia stood up and gave his shoulder a pat.
"Come on, Alfie. Time to catch breakfast."
"But I want to sit here a little longer…"
Balia grinned.
"Then no training for you today…"
Alfair sighed.
"Fine, fine…" he muttered, dragging himself to his feet.
They walked toward the river not far from the house. The morning air was crisp, and the sound of flowing water filled the silence between them.
A while later, Alfair shouted,
"Got one! This one's gonna taste amazing grilled!"
He held up his catch with pride.
"Grandpa, look! Isn't it great?!"
Balia raised a fish twice the size.
"How about this one, Alfie?! You'll never beat your old man! Hahaha!"
Alfair pouted.
"Just wait. I'll catch a bigger one—and more of them!"
"Pffft… try me," Balia teased, chuckling.
An hour passed.
Alfair managed to catch four medium-sized fish. Meanwhile, Balia had easily bagged ten large ones.
Alfair huffed.
"Hmph… It's like the fish are avoiding me on purpose…"
"If you keep pouting like that, your fish might taste bland," Balia joked, pointing at Alfair's haul.
"So? What are we doing with all these?"
"Let's grill them, Grandpa. I'll cook the rice," Alfair said, heading into the house.
Balia grew dry roots from the ground and lit them effortlessly.
"Fire's ready. Now for the spices."
With a flick of his fingers, plants burst from the earth—chili, tomatoes, lemons, and onions blooming instantly.
From the window, Alfair watched in awe.
"Grandpa's power… it's actually pretty amazing," he thought.
Soon, their meal was ready.
The smell of smoke and spices filled their little home as they ate their catch together.
"Alfie, once we finish eating, we'll start training…" Balia said, mouth full.
"Ugh, Grandpa… chew first, then talk," Alfair replied, taking a sip of water.
"You're one to talk," Balia laughed.
---
After eating, Alfair stood and grabbed his wooden sword.
"Alright, Grandpa. I'm ready!" he said with energy. "We're doing sword training today, right?"
"Yep. Today, you're learning how to fight. Give it everything you've got against me, okay?" Balia's expression grew serious.
"Don't worry… I'll go easy on you…" he added with a sly smile.
Alfair gulped.
"This old man… he's definitely trying to kill me," he muttered, raising his guard as they squared off.