Koach stood rigid, eyes wide, arms slightly raised in an unconscious defensive stance. "What was that glow? What just happened?" His voice wavered between confusion and alarm, his feet inching backward. His neckline still pulsed faintly where the strange mark had lit up. Shordet held up both hands, his face calm but thoughtful, searching for the right words to explain.
"It's... not easy to say," Shordet began carefully. "But what I saw—what my pendant confirmed—is something the world has waited for."
Before the tension could grow any thicker, a soft but firm voice broke through it.
"Koach... relax." His mother, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke. "I knew this day would come."
Koach turned toward her, stunned. "You what?"
She took a slow breath and began. "Your father, Koach... he wasn't just a woodcarver like you. He was one of the Ushaa Shialom—the twelve chosen guardians who traveled across Vahuriel to seek out and destroy the rising evils. He led them. He believed the darkness could be held back. And he died fighting for that belief."
Shordet stepped back, giving her space as she continued. Her voice trembled slightly. "But before he fell... he told me something. A prophecy that had followed our bloodline for generations. That his son would rise when the world reached its lowest. That a mark would seal that truth, appearing after the child's birth."
She reached out and lightly touched Koach's neckline. "And there it was. The ruin-mark. I've kept it hidden for years, hoping you'd live a quiet life. But I knew... one day, this moment would come. And while I'm proud to have seen it—I'm afraid of what it means for you."
Koach blinked, looking between his mother and Shordet. Then, with a half-smile and raised brow, he muttered, "Me? Special? Destined?" He chuckled awkwardly. "Are you sure it didn't choose the wrong neck?"
Shordet smirked slightly. "Come on, Koach. This is our only shot. Vahuriel is hanging by a thread. People are barely surviving, but deep down, they still believe there's hope. And that hope—it's now in the hands of you, me, and the others we're yet to find. You're the first, but not the last."
Koach lifted his head, still grinning. "Others? So, I'm not the only one in your heroic search patrol?" he said sarcastically. Then he glanced at his mother, her eyes shining with silent pride. "Well... I do love adventure. And I'd love to see Atzimor full of life again. Plus, making you proud? That's a win."
He walked to his mother, gently took her hand, and whispered, "I'll be fine. Don't worry."
The next morning, before the sun had fully risen, Shordet and Koach stood at the gates of Atzimor, packs slung across their backs. They set off heading east, toward the place where land and sea met—the border of the Okianiot cities.
The Okianiot race was one of the four original peoples shaped by the will of Ka Mua and Sielu. Composed of eight noble clans, they had built five powerful cities across the waters of Vahuriel:
Yimshelor – Known for strength, order, and discipline. Their warriors were unmatched, their defenses unwavering. It was this that helped them survive the last great battle.
Mergiayim – The most fortified, located deep underwater—200 feet beneath the surface. Their adaptation to ocean life made them elite, yet Ro'a's corruption still reached them. Possessed ocean creatures turned on them, sparking a never-ending battle beneath the waves. They survived, but never knew peace again.
Sheltohayim and Zarmirupiu – Once thriving, both cities were utterly destroyed during the great war.
Okyanuhoma – Left in ruins, its walls half-swallowed by sea, its people scattered.
Despite the ruin, hope flickered in places like Yimshelor and the depths of Mergiayim.
Their journey was not without danger. As the sun dipped low one evening, a deep, chilling roar echoed through the woods. The trees trembled.
From the shadows emerged a Shadow Beast—a twisted creature shaped like a horse, but far more terrifying. Black horns curled from its head like a bull's, and its eyes burned with swirling smoke. Its breath was thick with darkness, and with each step it seemed to drain the warmth from the air.
"Run!" Shordet shouted.
They sprinted through vines and broken paths, the beast roaring behind them. Suddenly, Shordet tripped on a vine and crashed to the ground.
The beast leapt.
But Koach spun, grabbed a sturdy tree branch, and lashed it across the beast's face, forcing it to stagger. Shordet rolled away just in time. The two of them fought—dodging, striking, resisting the pull of the beast's soul-sucking aura. Shadow Beasts were not like other monsters—they were shards of Ro'a's own being, impossible to destroy completely.
Still, the boys fought fiercely, eventually forcing it back long enough to escape.
Breathing hard, bruised, and exhausted, they finally reached the coastline. The sand was soft and white, glittering under the evening light. They collapsed onto it, letting the waves soothe their trembling limbs.
Shordet stood, stepped into the waves to wash off the blood and sweat. But the moment his hands touched the water, the sea shimmered—and a glowing circle of light opened in front of them.
A portal.
Behind the swirling blue light was a glimpse of a shining city—walls built of coral and light, glowing under the water's edge.
Koach scrambled up, stunned. "Wha—what is that?!"
Shordet stumbled backward, eyes wide. But then, his obsidian pendant glowed softly again. A whisper brushed his ear.
"Your path lies ahead."
He didn't hesitate. Pulling Koach with him, the two stepped through the portal.
They landed hard—on stone floors—and were immediately surrounded by armed guards. Spears pointed at their throats.
"INTRUDERS!" shouted one of the warriors.
Within minutes, they were bound and dragged through the streets of Yimshelor, brought before the city's leaders.
Shordet explained everything—about the prophecies, Koach's mark, the journey, and the purpose that brought them.
But the city elders scoffed. "Prophecy? We survived through strength, not superstition. Where were the Maaminims when the world fell?"
Instead of support, they received judgment. Declared intruders, they were thrown into a stone cell beneath the city.
Days passed. Then weeks.
On the twenty-ninth day, the maidservant who brought their meals paused. She had noticed something on Koach's neckline—the faint glimmer of the ruin-mark.
Her name was Nadir, and she was not from Yimshelor.
"I've seen that mark before..." she whispered, almost in shock. "My friend back in Mergiayim had it. On her wrist."
Shordet raised a brow. "You're from Mergiayim?"
She hesitated, then nodded. "Yes. My family was lost in the war. I came here to survive... I never told anyone."
Koach leaned forward. "You're sure it was the same mark?"
Nadir nodded again. "Identical."
Shordet stood slowly, eyes narrowing with purpose.
"We need to get to Mergiayim," he said. "As soon as possible."
Nadir burst into the dim cell where Shordet and Koach were held, her eyes wide and voice trembling with urgency. "You two—listen carefully. The council has devised a cunning method to execute you both," she whispered, her tone laced with fear. "They plan to use you as sport. They'll force you to fight against sea monsters and then watch the spectacle for fun."
Her words hit like a shock, and both young men exchanged troubled glances. The notion of being pitted against bloodthirsty sea creatures sent a chill down their spines. Yet, as Nadir continued, Shordet's eyes sparked with a glimmer of opportunity.
"Listen," Nadir pressed, "the monsters they choose are the fiercest—creatures that feast on the souls of the living. They're known to be bloodthirsty and merciless."
A wry smile played at Shordet's lips as he considered this forced contest. Escape might be possible if he could exploit the situation. But his smile faded almost as quickly as he remembered their dire limitation. "We're going to be thrown into the sea… and neither of us can breathe underwater," he murmured.
In a tone tinged with sarcasm, Shordet turned to Koach. "Can you, by any chance, breathe underwater?" he teased.
Koach grinned mischievously. "What if I say yes?"
Shordet's eyes widened in surprise. "How in the world can you breathe underwater?" he asked, half in disbelief.
"Calm down, Shordet," Koach replied, his voice low and excited. "Back in Atzimor, we used to grow a special shrub—one that, when eaten, lets you breathe underwater for three full days." He paused and then, with a raised eyebrow and a playful smirk, added, "I always carry the seed of that shrub in the sole of my boots. I can grow it in minutes, no matter where I am."
A genuine grin spread across Shordet's face at this revelation. "Why didn't you mention that before?" he exclaimed. Then, eyes suddenly wide with realization, Koach blurted, "Wait—are you saying that you planned for us to escape underwater? Because that would be our ticket out!"
They shared a brief moment of laughter—a brief, bright spark amid the darkness of their predicament. Quickly, Koach retrieved the small seed from his boot, and within moments he had cultivated enough of the miraculous shrub for them both. They decided to wait until the next day, when the council's grim "sport" was scheduled to begin.
The following morning, as a pallid light crept over the horizon, the sea itself seemed to thrum with anticipation. Outside the ancient gates of Yimshelor, a massive arena had been prepared in the middle of the ocean. From the rocky shoreline, thousands of spectators gathered, their voices rising in a cacophony of cheers and jeers. The arena—a colossal structure of woven sea-foam and coral—stood as a stage for what the council had arranged.
The sport host, a man with a booming voice and a cruel smile, called Shordet and Koach into the arena. Almost immediately, the ocean weavers of Yimshelor summoned three gigantic sea monsters from the depths. These creatures, hulking and ferocious, surged toward the two intruders with a frenzy that was both terrifying and primal.
As Shordet and Koach were forced into the churning, salty waters, they fought for their lives. Waves crashed around them as they struggled against the relentless assault of the monstrous beings. They used every ounce of strength and wit they possessed, dodging snapping jaws and surging tentacles in a desperate battle for survival.
Then, in a heart-stopping moment, one of the sea monsters lashed out with its massive tail. It struck Shordet directly on the chest, sending him reeling and into a sudden, eerie trance. In that suspended state, something within him stirred—an ancient power awakened. His obsidian pendant blazed with vibrant light, and his lips cried out, "Le'amud bemekum, letzyat lei!" In an instant, the raging sea creatures halted, frozen as if held by an unseen force.
Koach's voice rang out, equal parts astonishment and urgency. "Shordet—dive deep! That's our only chance to escape!" But Shordet, lost in the surge of newfound power, couldn't hear him over the roar of his inner awakening.
At that critical moment, sensing that something was gravely amiss, Nadir plunged into the sea arena. In a display that left every onlooker gasping, she revealed her true nature—a luminous grace and strength that belied her modest appearance. With swift determination, she joined Koach, and together they managed to drag the still-tranced Shordet away from the immediate danger.
Diver soldiers in sleek armor began pursuing them, their shouts muffled by the rushing water. The trio swam desperately, plunging into the deep blue where the light faded and the pressure grew. The soldiers, forced to resurface for air, soon fell behind. Koach, realizing he needed to secure his underwater breath, quickly chewed a portion of the special shrub. Within minutes, he felt the gift of three days' worth of underwater breathing flood his lungs.
However, during the fierce burst of power from his pendant, Shordet had lost his share of the precious herb. Panic gripped him as he struggled for breath, his eyes darting frantically as he began to drown. Seeing his friend in peril, Nadir did something unexpected. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to Shordet's, bestowing upon him an ancient Mergiayim blessing—NISHIKATANISHIMA—an underwater breathing power known only to the people of Mergiayim.
In that surreal moment, Shordet's body shuddered as life rushed back into him. Koach stared in awe, his heart pounding with relief and wonder. Nadir's act of compassion had not only saved Shordet but affirmed the very prophecy they had long hoped for.
With renewed determination and the shared spark of destiny, the trio swam deeper into the heart of the dark ocean, the looming silhouette of Mergiayim beckoning them from the depths.
As they plunged further into the unknown, Shordet's voice, now steady and resolute, echoed through the water: "We need to get to Mergiayim as soon as possible