(PROLOGUE )
The grand palace pulsed with life. Music spilled through the marble corridors like liquid silver, weaving between bursts of laughter and the low hum of hushed conversations. Great chandeliers, suspended like constellations from the high vaulted ceilings, dripped with golden light, illuminating nobles in silk and steel who raised their cups in celebration. Their voices mingled with the faint, rhythmic chant of mages who had come to witness the evening's ceremony. It was a night of tradition and power, of legacies being forged and destinies being sealed.
At the front of the great hall, students lined up, their stiff postures betraying nerves despite the grandeur of the moment. They were the kingdom's future, the most gifted mages and warriors, and tonight, their names will be called.
"Where's Rethrus?" the instructor murmured, his voice a low hiss of annoyance. His eyes, sharp and practiced, scanned the line for the familiar face of the class's top student. His voice carried just enough weight for those nearby to stiffen. A few students exchanged uneasy whispers. Rethrus should never be late.
Aethra, standing with the quiet confidence of someone used to being noticed, tilted his head. "Still missing," he replied, his tone even, but his sharp gaze flickered with a brief question he didn't voice. He, more than anyone, knew something was amiss.
At the royal table, the king leaned toward the silver-haired commander at his side. "He isn't here?" the monarch asked quietly, a thread of worry in his voice. The absence was a glaring hole in the ceremony.
The General hesitated, his eyes betraying his own concern. "…He said he had something to take care of. He'll arrive." But doubt threaded through his words. His eyes drifted back to the line of nervous students, hoping to see the young prodigy appear.
The great doors of the palace creaked open with a rush of cold night air, and all eyes turned. A young woman slipped inside, her breath slightly uneven from running. The shimmer of her gown contrasted with the tension in her eyes as she searched the crowd.
"Did you find him?" another girl whispered, her voice tight with anticipation.
"I did," she whispered back with a faint, uncertain smile. Her head shook almost imperceptibly as she looked from the front of the hall to the anxious girl.
But still—no sign of Rethrus.
Tok. Tok. Tok.
A rhythmic knock echoed down the empty corridor outside his quarters, a lonely and persistent sound.
"Rethrus! Sir, the ceremony is about to begin!" a student called, his voice laced with urgency. His words met only silence.
The door opened with a soft groan, revealing an empty space. The room was clean. Too clean. The bed was neatly made. The papers on his desk were stacked in a perfect pile. It was a room waiting for a return that was never going to happen.
In the princess's chamber, soft candlelight painted Elaina's reflection in molten gold. She sat before her vanity, her face a perfect mask of serenity.
"Elaina," her mother, the queen, spoke gently, her reflection appearing in the mirror beside her daughter's. "Tonight, during the ceremony… you plan to announce your choice, don't you?"
Elaina's crimson lips parted slightly. Her dark gown fell around her like a cascade of shadows, making her white skin seem almost unreal.
"Yes," she whispered, her gaze fixed on the mirror. Her voice wavered as if pulled between two thoughts. "I choose…"
On a lonely cliff that overlooked the world, the setting sun bled into the horizon. The vibrant hues of orange, red, and purple painted the sky as the light slowly drained from the land.
A figure sat in silence, watching.
Rethrus.
The wind tugged at his dark cloak, a constant murmur against the stone. His face, marked by a faint scar across his cheek, was calm but unreadable, like a blade sheathed but not forgotten.
"Rethrus," a soft voice called behind him.A green-haired youth approached slowly, his steps unsure. His steps were unsure, as if he were walking into a place he didn't belong.
Rethrus didn't turn. "I know," he answered, his gaze still on the horizon. His voice was a low hum, a perfect counterpoint to the rush of the wind. He already knew what the green-haired youth was going to say. He was a beacon of hesitation, a stark contrast to the immovable will of the other figure.
"We're ready," a new voice said. It was a young man with a massive claymore resting against his shoulder. His blond hair was pulled back from his face, revealing eyes that missed nothing.
For a moment, Rethrus said nothing. He let the last rays of light fade, swallowed by the coming night.
Then, slowly, he stood.
For a moment, Rethrus said nothing. He let the last rays of light fade, swallowed by the coming night.
Then, slowly, he stood. The wind whipped his cloak around him, and a profound sense of lightness filled his chest, as if he had just shed a heavy, iron burden he didn't even know he was carrying. "So this is it," he thought. Not with fear. Not even with regret. But with the calm acceptance of someone who had finally chosen their fate.
The short figure with pointed ears gave a slow, knowing grin, a hint of dark humor in his expression that suggested he understood everything that had just happened. At their feet, the creature with shifting skin rippled with a flash of light, bouncing excitedly as if it, too, felt the energy of the moment.
Rethrus exhaled, a faint smile tugging at his lips—not of joy, but of quiet resolve. The air was colder now, the night sky a blanket of stars above the sleeping world.
"Let's go,"