---
The sun was setting over the western mountains, its glow spilling through the guildhall's stained glass and painting the floor in gold and crimson. The air was unusually still—too still for a place that normally rang with laughter, chatter, and the clink of mugs.
Then the door creaked open.
A lone adventurer stumbled in, his armor cracked, his cloak soaked in dried blood. The receptionist froze mid-sentence as his trembling hands held out a pendant—a small, worn emblem shaped like a sword entwined with ivy.
The guild fell silent.
"No…" A soft voice broke the stillness. "No, you're lying."
The adventurer didn't speak; he only bowed his head and placed the pendant on the table.
Her knees hit the floor.
"Elara…" Kaelith whispered, rushing forward. But the dark-haired woman didn't respond. She clutched the pendant to her chest, trembling violently. "He promised me," she murmured. "He said he'd come back. He never breaks a promise."
The man tried to explain—something about a monster, a trap—but Elara couldn't hear him. Her screams echoed through the guild. The air trembled; her magic surged wildly, rattling the walls.
"Eve, barrier—now!" Seraph shouted.
Evelyn raised her hand instantly. A wall of shimmering water sealed the flames before they could spread. Lyra and Mira dashed forward, holding Elara down as her mana spiraled out of control.
Minutes passed before the hall quieted again. Elara's sobs faded to small, broken gasps.
Outside, the sun disappeared completely.
---
Days passed. Then weeks.
Elara stopped going to the guild. She barely spoke. She wandered through her home, touching the things her lover left behind—a chipped mug, a half-finished map, a sword that still smelled of steel and pine.
The others watched her fade, helpless.
Until one morning, Evelyn found her in the courtyard, staring at a single white flower blooming from a crack in the stone.
"Elara?" Evelyn's voice was soft. "You've been out here since dawn."
Elara's lips quivered. "He left something behind, Eve."
Evelyn blinked. "What do you mean?"
Elara's hand moved to her stomach, trembling. "I can feel him… a heartbeat. It's his."
For a moment, silence. Then Evelyn covered her mouth, tears pooling. "You're—"
Elara nodded weakly. "I don't know whether to laugh or break again."
The others gathered soon after. They tried to smile, to comfort, to celebrate—but the joy in their eyes carried pain. They all knew Elara's strength had waned dangerously since her lover's death.
---
Months later.
The air was heavy with incense and magic circles. Candles surrounded the bed where Elara lay, her once-glowing eyes dim but calm. Her breathing was shallow. Sweat glistened on her skin.
Seraph knelt beside her, clutching her hand. "Elara, please—don't talk. Save your strength."
Elara smiled faintly. "You always say that… but I never listen, do I?"
Her gaze shifted toward the glowing seal etched into the air above her stomach. Mana pulsed around it, weaving layers of protection and suppression.
"This spell," Lyra said quietly, tracing one of the runes, "it'll seal his power completely. He'll grow up as a normal human."
"That's what I want." Elara's voice was barely a whisper. "No fame, no blood, no destiny chasing him. Just… a normal life."
Mira's lips trembled. "But what if he needs it one day?"
"Then… you'll be there for him." Elara looked at each of them—Seraph, Lyra, Evelyn, Mira, and Kaelith. "You're my sisters. Raise him as your own. Teach him love, strength… laughter. Things I won't be here to give."
The air grew colder.
"Elara—" Kaelith began, but Elara raised a weak finger to her lips.
"Promise me."
The five exchanged looks, tears streaming silently. One by one, they nodded.
"I promise," Seraph whispered. "We all do."
Elara smiled—a soft, tired smile that somehow still held light. "Then… it's done."
Light engulfed the room. The seal blazed white, then gold, then faded to a faint violet mark over her womb. The candles flickered out. For a heartbeat, everything was still.
Then, the cry of a newborn filled the air.
Mira caught the child, tears falling freely as she cradled him close. "A boy…"
Elara's eyes fluttered open one last time. She smiled at the sight. "Arin," she whispered. "His name… is Arin."
And with that, the light in her eyes went out.
---
The room stayed silent for a long time. Only the faint glow of the seal remained, humming softly against the child's skin.
Kaelith brushed Elara's hair back gently, voice trembling. "Rest easy, sister. We'll protect him."
Lyra reached out to touch the baby's cheek. He stopped crying, staring up with eyes the color of twilight—purple, deep and calm.
Evelyn smiled faintly through tears. "He has her eyes."
Mira pressed a kiss to his forehead. "And her fire."
Outside, dawn broke once again—quiet, fragile, and full of new beginnings.
---
The rain came softly that morning — not a storm, just a quiet drizzle that felt more like the sky was sighing. The five stood before a simple grave marked with a sword driven into the earth and a single violet stone that shimmered faintly in the mist.
Elara's name was carved into it.
Her spirit mark — the same faint violet glow as Arin's — pulsed weakly like a heartbeat.
Kaelith stood first, holding a bottle of clear, strong liquor. Her fiery hair clung to her damp face as she smiled through red-rimmed eyes. "You always said you'd stop me from drinking after every quest," she said softly. "Well… this time, you're not here to complain. So I'll drink for both of us."
She took a swig, wiped her mouth, then poured a measure of the drink over the grave. The liquid sizzled faintly as it met the stone — a shimmer of magic lighting the air for just a moment.
Seraph stepped next, her usual calm cracking just enough to show the ache behind her eyes. "You were the only one who could shut Kaelith up," she murmured, managing a small smile. "That alone makes you a legend worth drinking to."
She poured a little more on the ground, bowing her head.
Lyra knelt, tracing the carved name with her fingers. "You always carried too much," she whispered. "Even when you smiled, it was like you were holding up the world. I hope you're finally resting now… without the weight of us on your back."
Evelyn stood beside her, rainwater running down her golden hair. "You made us a family," she said, voice steady but low. "I thought adventurers couldn't have that kind of bond. You proved me wrong."
She uncorked the bottle, took a tiny sip, then poured another stream across the stone.
Finally, Mira approached — quiet, soft-eyed, holding a small wooden cup. "I don't have much to say," she said gently. "You gave me a place to belong, Elara. You gave all of us one."
She filled her cup, raised it, and smiled faintly. "One last drink together… until we meet again."
They each lifted their cups — invisible or not — and drank. Then they poured the last of the bottle over the grave together.
For a heartbeat, the violet stone glowed brighter, as if acknowledging their toast. The rain slowed. The wind carried a faint, familiar warmth across the clearing — a whisper of magic that smelled faintly of lavender and smoke.
"She heard us," Lyra murmured.
"Of course she did," Kaelith said with a snort, brushing her tears away. "She'd never miss a good drink."
The others laughed softly — tired, broken, but still alive.
Seraph turned last, looking toward the small cottage behind them where the faint cry of a baby echoed from inside. "We should go," she said. "He'll be hungry soon."
Kaelith smirked faintly. "Guess motherhood starts today."
They started walking back, the five of them shoulder to shoulder, their cloaks soaked and heavy — but their steps somehow lighter than before. Behind them, the grave shimmered once more before fading back into stillness.
And so began the story of the boy born from love, grief, and unbreakable sisterhood —
the boy who would one day shake the world.
---