A rustling sound of sword fighting came to a sudden halt.
The echoes faded quickly into the morning mist, leaving only the whispering of a gentle breeze and the gritty crunch of sand beneath weary feet
"You think you're ready, Ruel?" The old man's voice was calm, but his eyes betrayed a subtle tension.
Ruel, still breathing heavily from practice, wiped the sweat from his brow. His features - a blend of youthful determination and the weight of a destiny thrust upon him - turned toward the old man.
No matter the tumultuous emotions whirling within him, he knew that there is nothing he can do to escape his predicament, as doing so he would lose not only everything he holds dear, but also the only semblance of family he has left.
Since the day his parents died on an exploration mission, this man had been there for him—not with ceremony, but with quiet meals, hard training, and a roof shared with his only daughter, Avana. And Avana… well, she had become something like a sister. A reliable friend.
"Old man, it isn't a question of whether I'm ready..."
A hint of surprise flickered across the old man's face, quickly masked by a stoic resolve. He knew Ruel was right; their society demanded this of its youth, to join the ranks of the explorers, to become the vanguard in their unending quest.
"I am glad you understand," the old man said, his voice tinged with sorrow and pride. "No matter the sacrifices, it will all come to an end - if not in your generation, then the next. Now go wash up and rest. Tomorrow, you'll meet your team and embark on your first mission."
His expression remained calm, betraying nothing as Ruel walked away. But beneath the stoic facade, a single haunting question filled his mind:
"How many explorers had left before him, only to return mad - or never at all?"
* * * * *
In a quiet, dimly lit chamber adorned with symbols whose meanings had long faded into obscurity, the Elder paced nervously. His posture was slumped, bearing none of his usual grace.
By his side stood a middle-aged man, his slender frame deceptively frail beneath countless scars. His stance appeared casual, yet no one could mistake it for carelessness - any approach without caution would swiftly lead to death.
The exploration captain watched the Elder patiently, finally breaking the silence when it became too oppressive. "Do not worry, Elder. I'll watch over the recruits and the team. Nothing will go wrong - we've been doing this far too long."
The Elder halted, sighing deeply. Age had etched permanent weariness onto his face. "All these years… generations lost, and still no closer to ending this nightmare." His voice trembled slightly. "How many more lives must we sacrifice? How much longer until we finally break?"
"Until we find the solution," the captain replied firmly, conviction sharpening his tone. "The children know their duty - we all do - and accept it."
"Accepting duty doesn't lessen the burden," the Elder murmured softly. "May the gods bless us all… though lately, I've begun to wonder if they even care."
The captain bowed slightly, unfazed by the Elder's blasphemy. Recognizing the conversation had ended, he quietly withdrew, leaving the Elder alone with his thoughts.
Left alone in the chamber, the Elder's gaze drifted toward the open window. The darkness outside had grown oppressive, as suffocating as the corruption they battled daily.
"How much longer can we fight?" he whispered into the empty silence.
* * * * *
Morning arrived gently, a contradiction to the heavy mix of anticipation and dread hanging over the village. Even the sea held its breath. No bells rang. No laughter stirred.
The air was crisp, salty from the seawater, mingling with the distant aroma of wildflowers. Today, the adolescents of the village would become adults - joining the exploration team and departing on their mission to confront the ancient curse that had haunted their people for generations.
Ruel dressed carefully, the routine provided a small comfort against the unease curling in his chest. He glanced around his small, familiar room - every item a quiet witness to his childhood. Today, that life would end.
When his parents died on one of the explorations he knew that this day would come, and it would be his turn to contribute to the village. Knowing that he cannot make anyone wait, he gave a final look at himself in the mirror. "Mom, dad, I…"
A sudden knock interrupted his thoughts.
"Ruel!" The familiar voice was muffled yet unmistakable. Avana's enthusiasm always carried through. "Come on! They're gathering already!"
He opened the door to find the girl he grew up with standing there - cheeks flushed from running, silver hair flowing freely in the morning breeze, eyes bright yet shadowed by a familiar worry.
She had always been a constant in his life, an anchor. But today, she felt strangely distant - framed not just by the sunlight, but by the weight of what was to come.
And for the first time, she wore a dress.
"You ready?" she asked, her voice softer than usual. It wasn't a question, not really - more an offering of comfort. The light caught her then, and for a moment, her appearance seemed to tear through the limits of what a mortal could be.
"As ready as I'll ever be." Ruel forced a smile, her beauty momentarily numbing the dread he carried. He exhaled and stepped forward - not into sunlight, but into fate.
Together they walked through their village towards the square, passing faces etched with quiet pride and solemnity. The weight of generations - the hopes of ancestors and the expectations of those left behind - pressed upon Ruel's shoulders, as real and heavy as the sword strapped to his side.
Ahead in the center stood a frail looking man, but no one looked at him with pity as this was the captain of the team. Him and his current crew of a couple dozen have not been back in the village since last year, but here they were, awaiting the new recruits. His gaze was firm yet compassionate, fully aware of the journey these youths were about to undertake.
Ruel took a deep breath, his heart pounding. From a corner of his eye he could see the old man, his expression unreadable. Looking at Avana, he whispered: "Thank you for coming with me." He knew his life was about to change, though how exactly, he could not yet imagine.
Today marked the start of something - he only hoped he could live up to it.
* * * * *
A few moments later, an Elder stepped out from the crowd and onto the stage. The murmurs of the villagers died down into a hushed silence, tension hanging in the air like mist before a storm.
It is expected that an Elder of council should appear composed, be a pillar of reassurance. Yet as he walked to the center of the stage, his steps were heavier than they had ever been. His thoughts churned: "Every year, this repeats. And each time, I wonder... how many more can I watch leave? Why have the gods forsaken us?"
But as he looked out over the gathered crowd, his gaze lingered on the fresh faces of the new recruits. Something in him stirred - resolve, perhaps, or a fading spark of hope. The sunlight caught the lines of his face, casting him in a noble glow, and for a moment, he appeared almost divine.
"Today," he began, voice firm yet weighted with emotion, "marks your passage into adulthood. If it were up to everyone in the village, we would let you stay. We would wish for you to live peaceful lives, to fall in love, to raise families. But the world outside does not afford us such luxuries."
He paused, sweeping his eyes across the crowd - letting the silence of the square pressure everyone present.
"We are prisoners to the curse."
A murmur rippled through the crowd - some nodding, others avoiding eye contact.
"Bound to this land by a power we do not understand. And every year, we send more of you into the dark…"
The words hung heavy. Even those who had heard them before felt the weight anew. But it is those who have been to the dark that had the strongest reactions: some of defeat and despair, others of anger and rebelliousness wishing to tear up the curse, repaying for the pain it has caused them and their buried teammates.
"For generations, we have been bound to this land. The exploration team was formed in the hope of breaking this curse. Yet every year, we lose more than we gain. The greatest threat is not what lies beyond our borders - it is the corruption within us. It is born with us, and it grows."
He took a breath, slow and deliberate.
"Venturing beyond the village awakens the corruption sleeping inside. It empowers - but it also erodes. Eventually, it consumes. No matter how strong you become, the end is always the same: madness, death, or worse."
His voice rose sharply, and he brought both fists down onto the podium with sudden, forceful emphasis.
"And yet - we must go on."
His voice softened once more, becoming both respectful and solemn.
"Children - no, warriors - thank you for your sacrifice. We **will** endure. We **will** break this curse."
The Elder bowed deeply, his spine creaking under the weight of years, his motion both humble and reverent.
As he rose, the village erupted - not with joy, but fierce, defiant applause. It surged through the square, raw and desperate, born from hope and the stubborn refusal to yield.
Amid the crowd, children's eyes widened in awe, cheering as though these recruits were already heroes, already legends. In their innocence, they dreamed of the day they, too, would stand upon that stage, ready to carry the heavy legacy left by those before them.