High above the burning ruins of the village, the world seemed to pull back—as if recoiling from the horror it had just witnessed. The flames shrank into the distance, the agonized screams grew faint, and the menacing smile of Lilith faded into a far-off memory as the vision zoomed outward. Smoke twisted into the sky like serpents. And then... silence.
Far beyond that desolation, away from the charred bones of a forgotten town, the stillness was replaced by polished elegance.
White marble stretched endlessly within the sacred walls of Solmere, its tall arches casting long shadows across the immaculate floor. Pillars of crystalline stone lined the grand hall, glowing softly with light from no visible source. A divine peace filled the air, calm and regal—until it was broken.
A man stumbled backward.
Murre, guardian of knowledge, clutched his chest as if to hold his heart in place. His breathing was jagged and wild, his pupils dilated with shock. The trembling of his fingers betrayed the weight of what he had seen. He staggered toward the far side of the room, his boots scraping softly against the floor.
"This can't be happening..." he whispered hoarsely.
He dropped to his knees, crawling across the polished marble with wide, frantic eyes until he reached a tall mirror embedded into the wall. Its surface shimmered like water struck by moonlight—still holding the final, flickering remnants of the vision that had shattered his composure.
Then, thunder rolled outside.
The calm of Solmere shattered once more.
Footsteps—loud, urgent, and heavy—pounded across the stone. Helios burst through the entryway, his presence like an unstable star. Golden rings of power flared around his shoulders, pulsing with heat and cosmic fury.
"Hurry up and give me the location!" he demanded, his voice crackling with power and frustration.
But Murre didn't respond.
He lowered his head, strands of gray hair falling across his eyes as the first drops of rain began tapping against the high windows.
"It's... it's too late," he said, his voice barely audible—quiet and broken.
Helios's jaw clenched. A roar of anguish tore from his throat as he drove his fist into the nearby wall. The explosion of impact sent dust and fragments flying, stone collapsing in shards around his knuckles. His hand trembled, blood streaking across the broken surface. For a moment, he simply stared at it.
"Why go alone, Uriel...?" he muttered. "Damnit..."
The world shifted again.
A different place. A different rhythm. The Partera Region.
Here, the day began not with screams, but with sunlight—soft, warm, and golden. It poured like liquid serenity across an awe-inspiring city nestled in the embrace of forested hills and distant snow-capped mountains.
Partera was a sanctuary carved in beauty. Towering spires topped with gilded domes rose into the sky, catching the morning light like divine beacons. Marble bridges arched over tranquil waterways, and spiraling staircases led from lush gardens to high balconies overflowing with flowering vines. Great plazas stretched out between grand halls, and waterfalls spilled from the upper terraces, filling the city with the calming rush of living water.
Above it all soared flocks of white birds, dancing in the blue sky like blessings.
And at the very heart of this marvel—far from the bustle of the central courts and the sun-kissed towers—was a modest home tucked quietly against the edge of a lower terrace.
Inside, a young man rubbed his eyes as he finished getting dressed. "Come on, Indra!" a voice shouted from outside.
"Okay, I'm coming," he replied groggily.
"How long does it take to get dressed?!"
He stepped outside and was immediately met by a familiar figure.
Kalanie stood waiting at the bottom of the steps, arms crossed, one foot tapping the stone impatiently.
Indra blinked as his mind slowly caught up.
[This is Kalanie. I've known her since I was a little kid. She may look mean, but she's actually really nice.]
His eyes softened as he looked at her.
[We grew up together —me, Kalanie, Tomoyah and Sariah. Every day felt like an adventure back then. We'd climb trees we were told not to, steal fruit off market carts when no one was looking, and spend hours lying in the grass, talking about what we'd become. She always said she wanted to protect people. Even back then, Kalanie had that fire in her.]
He smiled faintly to himself.
[She was the one who stood up for me when others wouldn't. When I doubted myself, she reminded me who I was. We fought sometimes—like siblings do—but there was no one I trusted more. She is family.]
Kalanie narrowed her eyes.
"What are you doing, making the clothes from scratch? You're gonna make us late!"
Her voice broke through the haze. The sharpness in her tone was familiar—comforting, even. It was the same old Kalanie, trying to keep him on track.
And in that moment, Indra felt something steady in his chest. [Even after everything... she's still here.]
"You sound like my mom."
"I could be, considering how much I look after you."
"We're the same age."
"That's not the point! Look, are you ready?" "Yeah, I'm ready."
"Okay, come on."
They walked together down the cobbled street, their steps echoing softly between the ivory columns and ivy-draped arches. Around them, the village stirred gently to life. Stalls unfurled their awnings along the pathway—cloth vendors hanging shimmering silks, butchers preparing their cuts, fruit sellers stacking pyramids of oranges and nectar-filled melons. Families walked together to the markets, some with children perched on shoulders, others laughing as they exchanged greetings with neighbors.
Children darted through the open walkways, their laughter chasing after one another like wind-chimes in motion.
As they moved, Indra's thoughts returned, quiet and reflective.
[This is the Partera Region. Peaceful. Quiet. A place where the world feels like it's standing still. The people here are kind—honest farmers, tailors, shopkeepers. They don't crave power or glory. Kingdoms rise and fall beyond our borders, wars rage in distant lands, but Partera... Partera always stays out of it.]
[Most folks here have never even seen a real battle. And people with powers? That's just something out of bedtime stories. You're more likely to see a cow fly than someone conjuring fire. Still... part of me always hoped I'd be the exception. I used to dream about it—waking up with a gift no one else had. Something I could use to protect the ones I care about.]
[But nothing ever happened.]
Ahead, two more figures appeared through the morning haze. Sariah and Tomoyah.
Sariah walked with a soft grace, her golden earrings swaying gently with each step. She wore layered black and gold garments, styled like a princess from an ancient legend, yet her expression held nothing but kindness. Her amber eyes sparkled beneath her bangs, warm and bright like a sunrise after rain. There was something effortlessly calming about her—like someone who could stop a fight with just a smile.
Beside her, Tomoyah looked effortlessly laid-back—wearing a simple tunic and a loose, earth-colored cloak tossed over one shoulder like he didn't care whether it stayed on or not. His brown hair was a little messy, curling just enough to fall into his calm gray eyes. A bronze cuff hugged his ear, subtle but there. He wasn't the loud type—more the kind who let everyone else talk while he took it all in, only chiming in when it really mattered.
Kalanie lifted a hand and called out, "Sariah, Tomo—hey!"
Sariah's face lit up at once. "Kalanie!" she beamed, her voice soft and warm. She jogged the last few steps, her earrings swaying and catching the light with every bounce.
Tomoyah strolled in behind her, giving a slow, one-handed wave. "Took you long enough. I was starting to think you bailed."
Kalanie shot Indra a playful glare. "Blame him. I had to drag him out of bed."
Sariah's gaze shifted to Indra—and her expression softened even more.
"Hey, Indra," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. A hint of color touched her cheeks.
Indra smiled back, quiet and genuine. "Hey, Sariah."
She looked away quickly, hiding her face behind her hand as a quiet giggle escaped. Tomoyah sighed. "Sariah, seriously. You gotta stop doing that."
Kalanie smirked. "Every single time. Indra, I think she likes you or something."
But Indra wasn't listening anymore.
His gaze had shifted—drawn past the warmth of the group, past the gentle breeze rustling through the grass—to a shadow near the edge of the village. Just beyond a crumbling section of the outer wall, a man stood alone.
Disheveled. Wild-eyed. Muttering to himself.
His clothes hung off him in tattered layers, torn and stained from who knew what. His hands twitched at his sides, erratic and jerking, like they moved on their own. The air around him seemed... wrong. Charged. Like something just beneath the surface was vibrating.
"Indra?" Kalanie asked, her brow furrowing as she followed his line of sight. "What are you looking at?"
"That guy over there," Indra said quietly, his voice sharpening with curiosity. "What about him?" she asked.
"I don't know," Indra replied, eyes narrowing. "Something feels off."
Sariah stepped closer, concern knitting her expression. "Is he dangerous?" Tomoyah gave the man a quick glance and groaned. "He's doing that thing."
Kalanie turned to him. "What thing?"
Tomoyah motioned toward Indra. "The thing where his curiosity hijacks the whole day."
And sure enough, Indra was already walking toward the man.
"Told you," Tomoyah muttered, tossing his hands up.
"Indra, seriously?" Kalanie called after him, clearly exasperated. "We're supposed to be leaving!"
He didn't answer. Didn't slow down either.
The others exchanged uneasy looks as the wind picked up ever so slightly, brushing through the broken ruins like something unseen had stirred.
"Hey, are you okay?" Indra asked, his voice even but cautious.
The man jolted like he'd been yanked awake—then lunged. His hands clamped onto Indra's shirt, eyes wild.
"You people make me sick!" he shouted, breath reeking of exhaustion and panic. Kalanie was on him in an instant. "Dude, what's your problem?!"
The man pointed a shaking, accusing finger toward the village beyond them. "You're my problem! All of you! Living your lives like nothing's wrong—like the world isn't about to burn! Look at this place! What are y'all gonna do if a demon shows up?! Sit around and pray it doesn't?!"
"A demon?" Indra echoed, caught somewhere between confusion and concern.
Sariah blinked, startled. "Like... in the stories?"
Tomoyah let out a low breath, folding his arms. "Are you serious, demons don't exist."
"They do!" the man snapped, releasing Indra with a shove. "I know because I've seen them." His voice cracked as he spoke, quieter now—haunted.
"In the Kunem Empire. I was there. I saw it happen. The knights couldn't even fight back. Whole cities got wiped out like they were made of paper. People with powers—gone. None of it mattered. That's why I left. I came here because it felt... safer."
He stared past them now, not really seeing any of their faces.
"But y'all don't even know they exist," he murmured, trembling. "You think you're safe out here? You're not. Nowhere is safe."
Kalanie reached out and tugged Indra's sleeve firmly. "Let's go, Indra. This guy's lost it."
Indra let her pull him away, his steps slow, his gaze still locked on the man who now stood muttering to himself beneath the crumbled arch.
He didn't say anything.
But his eyes had changed.
No longer just puzzled.
Now they were quiet... reflective. And beneath that calm—
a flicker of fear.