In the silence, only the desperate cries of a child echoed.
"Help me! Somebody help me!"
Bound to the wall with ropes, covered in blood, the boy screamed helplessly. His face was hidden; his age was impossible to guess. That small, fragile body trembled under the weight of agony. Every cry vanished into the void of darkness, as if it were nothing more than a fragment of a nightmare.
Then, a voice called out:
"Akira… come on, wake up! If you don't get up now, I'll eat your share of breakfast too!"
Eight-year-old Akira Valen slowly opened his eyes. What he saw reassured him that the nightmare was not real: a warm, sunlit wooden house, where the golden light of morning poured in through the wide glass doors leading to the garden.
The door creaked open. Mira, his elder sister, entered with a faint smile on her lips and a sharp gleam of alertness in her eyes.
"Don't tell me… another nightmare?" she asked.
Akira rubbed his face, his voice unsteady.
"Uh… maybe… I don't really remember, but I think I saw a child."
Mira sighed, gently holding his left arm.
"How many times do I have to tell you? Don't fall asleep with the lights on…"
"Ow! That hurts—what are you doing, sis?!"
"Nothing. Come on, let's eat. Grandma and Grandpa are waiting for you," Mira said, guiding him out.
At the breakfast table, his grandmother welcomed him with a warm smile.
"Good morning, Akira dear."
But his grandfather frowned.
"And what kept you this long?"
Before Akira could answer, Mira smirked.
"Too late. There's nothing left on the table."
Still half-asleep, Akira muttered back,
"Good morning, Grandma… I was just sleeping. And if there's nothing left, then you must've eaten it, right?"
"Why, you little—! Watch that mouth. I'm still your big sister!" Mira shot back.
Laughter and teasing filled the air, wrapping the morning in warmth. For a while, the shadows of Akira's nightmare faded in the glow of that simple, happy family scene.
After breakfast, Akira left the house, heading toward Eldravon, the capital. The road took about half an hour. Along the way, he met up with his friend, and the two boys chatted until they suddenly realized—
"Wait, we're already here? What time is it?" Akira asked.
His friend paled.
"Oh no!! We're fifteen minutes late!"
"Whaaat?! Again?! Run!!"
When they burst into class, Akira tried hiding behind his friend, but the teacher immediately spotted him.
"Akiraaa! Late again?! This time I'm telling your sister! How do you manage this every single day?"
"I'm sorry, teacher… I guess being late is my special talent," Akira said sheepishly.
The class chuckled, but the teacher quickly pulled everyone back to order. The lesson began—today's subject: the Kingdom of Velmorya and the mysteries of human energy.
But once again, Akira's inability to use energy became the unspoken center of attention. A few classmates snickered. His shoulders slumped, yet deep inside, something flared.
"It doesn't matter… I'll become a king someday!"
After class, as the two friends walked home, Akira couldn't stop thinking.
"Why… why can't I use energy like everyone else?"
"Don't worry," his friend reassured him. "Some people can't use it when they're young, but later they awaken. It could happen to you too."
Akira clenched his fists.
"No matter what… I'll be king. I'll build a world without wars."
But fate struck sooner than he thought.
On the way back, drunken men blocked their path.
"Well, well, what did you say just now, brat? That you'll be king?"
Standing small but firm, Akira nodded.
"Yes… I will be king!"
The men laughed cruelly.
"Then prove it. Defeat us first!"
They turned violent, attacking his friend. Akira froze in terror, unable to move, his body trembling. His friend collapsed in blood.
"No… stop! Please, don't hurt him!!" Akira cried. His tears blurred his vision.
But his pleas went unheard. He carried his injured friend toward the hospital, every step heavier than the last. When the boy's mother opened the door, Akira broke down completely.
"I'm sorry… I couldn't do anything…"
The woman screamed, then rushed her son inside. Akira remained outside, drenched in rain, until Mira found him. She held him close, whispering comfort as he wept in her arms.
That night at dinner, Mira prepared to leave. Akira's voice cracked.
"Sis… where are you going?"
"To a place you can't follow… Just for a week," she said softly, her eyes betraying sorrow. She placed a necklace in his hand.
"Take this. Guard it well. Don't lose it—and don't ever open it."
Akira clutched it tightly.
"…Okay. I'll miss you."
The next morning, on his way to school, Akira noticed smoke rising from a house in the capital. A fire. Despite the soldiers guarding the scene, curiosity pulled him inside.
Through the choking smoke, he saw a body lying still. His heart pounded painfully, each beat echoing in his ears. He stepped closer—then froze. A glimmer from a necklace caught his eyes.
"No… this can't be…"
He reached out with trembling hands. The familiar pendant left no doubt. The lifeless body before him—was Mira.
His knees gave out. He clutched her, tears spilling freely.
"Please, no… Don't do this to me… Wake up… Get up, please!"
But the silence answered back.
Memories of laughter, breakfasts, and her guiding words flooded his mind like shards of glass, cutting deeper with every thought. The warmth was gone. All that remained was emptiness.
"I'm here, sis… I won't let go… Just give me a sign… please…"
Soldiers tried to pull him away, but Akira screamed and fought, sobbing.
"No! Don't touch her! Don't take her from me!!"
But he was powerless. Helpless. As Mira's body was placed in a coffin, the colors of Akira's world drained away, leaving behind only the hollow weight of grief.