The Malin Jungle was alive with breath and pulse—a living cathedral of green. Shafts of sunlight pierced the canopy like golden blades, dancing across the damp forest floor. Beneath the shade of towering trees, Elior followed Nminka, the small monkey bounding ahead with purpose.
They arrived at a hidden glade where the Vireth Maw River whispered ancient songs. Its surface shimmered like glass, and the current sang in a language older than time. As Elior leaned closer, a strange voice echoed from the water—smooth and deep, like thunder softened by rain.
"Who... who's there?" Elior asked, glancing at Nminka.
The monkey looked up. "Velith, the spirit of this river. An ancient guardian."
Elior backed away, heart pounding. "I… I need to leave."
"Wait," Nminka said, placing a tiny hand on Elior's wrist.
The wind stirred violently. Leaves scattered. The air thickened. A sudden gust swirled toward Elior, and before he could flee, the wind stood still—right in front of him.
His legs turned to stone. He couldn't move. Panic surged.
"Nminka—help—"
A voice rose from the wind, calm and commanding.
"Do not fear, bearer of the staff. We have waited long for your arrival."
The wind parted, and from its heart stepped a man draped in flowing robes. His hair was long and silver, his eyes pale white—glowing orbs untouched by darkness.
"You are the one, Elior," the man said gently. "Chosen by fate. You must cleanse yourself in the river. Drink, and bathe—for you must be purified."
Before Elior could answer, the figure dissolved back into the breeze, leaving only silence—and a pure white bird soaring down from the treetops.
The bird landed softly on Elior's shoulder.
"Hello, new bearer," it chirped with a graceful voice.
Elior staggered back. "A… talking bird?!"
"Name's Thaliora," the bird replied. "And no, you're not dreaming."
Nminka chuckled in the background.
"Drink, Elior. Bathe," Thaliora urged. "The river will awaken what sleeps within you."
Cautiously, Elior stepped into the river. The water was ice-cold—yet soothing, like a mother's touch. He drank. He submerged himself.
The transformation was instant.
His hair thickened and grew past his neck. His shoulders broadened, muscles tightening like drawn cords. He rose an inch taller—his body stronger, more alive.
"I can feel everything…" he whispered.
The jungle vibrated with a new clarity. Every insect hum, every leaf's sigh—he understood them. The river had awakened his bond to nature.
Later, under a grand mahogany tree, Elior rested. Nminka, mischievous and cheerful, tossed him mangoes from a high branch.
"You eat like a wild boar," Nminka teased, giggling.
Elior smiled weakly, his heart still heavy. "I… I just need to think."
Nminka pouted, then—splat!—a rotten mango hit Elior's shoulder. He looked up in surprise just in time for a second one to hit his head.
Angrily, Elior turned—only to see something glinting in the shadows. A carved wooden staff, capped with a glowing orb, half-buried in moss.
Without thinking, he raised a hand and spoke to it.
"Strike him."
The staff jolted. It flew through the air, bonked Nminka on the head, and sent him tumbling into a pit—his cries echoing.
"Nminka!" Elior shouted, panicked. He stretched out the staff.
Words spilled from his mouth in a voice not his own:
"Te ex profundo levabo!"
A golden light burst from the staff. A wind coiled around Nminka and lifted him from the pit, placing him safely on the ground.
Elior stared at the staff in horror. "What… am I?"
He raised the staff again. "Gather the stones," he said.
Rocks nearby rolled together like soldiers obeying command.
Terrified, he threw the staff away. But it returned—flashing through the air like a bolt and landing in his palm.
He ran to the Vireth Maw and hurled the staff into its depths.
"It's not mine!" he shouted. "Leave me alone!"
But the river stirred. The water trembled. The staff rose from the depths, surrounded by light, and placed itself once more into Elior's hands.
He screamed.
From the river, Velith rose again—shimmering like moonlight on water.
"The staff has chosen you," the spirit said. "Only the true heir of Lioran can command it."
"I'm not his heir," Elior cried. "I've never heard of him! My parents… they never told me—"
Velith stepped closer, eyes glowing with sorrow. "Your father was Ashlor. Your mother, Emberan. Lioran was your grandfather. You are of his blood, and the staff knows its own."
Elior's knees buckled. Tears fell freely.
He whispered, "Those are… my parents' names..."
"Then it is true," Velith said gently. "You are the bridge between worlds. The one who will rise to face what darkness comes."
Velith told him of Lioran's legacy—the battles, the thunder, the heroism. How he stood alone against sorcerers from the underworld. How he once struck a mountain with lightning and split it in two.
"You carry his spirit now," Velith said. "The world is breaking again. And you… you must rise."
As the sun dipped below the canopy, Velith's form shimmered and faded.
"I must return. The worlds are thinning. Darkness stirs. Prepare yourself, Elior."
And then he was gone.
Thaliora flapped onto Elior's shoulder. "Come, we must leave before the sun sets. I cannot stay beyond this light."
He vanished in a gust of wind.
Nminka turned to Elior. "Let's go. There's a place—near the Gate. Between the two worlds."
"I don't want to be alone…" Elior whispered.
"If I stay," Nminka said softly, "I'll never return to my world."
Elior looked down, clutching the staff. "Then go."
With a sad nod, Nminka faded into the trees.
Alone again, surrounded by silence, Elior sat beside a fireless pit beneath the trees. He looked up at the stars beginning to prick through the fading dusk.
Then—he fell asleep.
And from the shadows, Seraphis emerged—watching, wordless, protective.
The boy had taken his first steps.
The journey had begun.