In a grand chamber at the heart of the floating island of Swargalis, a young adjutant named Elara stood straight behind her master's chair.
The air was cold and thin, the silence so heavy that she could hear the frantic beat of her own heart.
Ten figures sat around a colossal round table made of polished blackwood—nine of them the most powerful members of the Republic Council of Karvanta.
Elara had never felt such suffocating pressure in her life. One of the other adjutants had already fainted beneath the combined presence of these leaders.
"At last, we gather again," said a man wearing a wide-brimmed hat. His voice split the silence, a cynical smile curling across his face.
"Was it truly that urgent, that all nine councils had to be summoned?" replied another—Raka Elvaran, the curly-haired ruler of the great island Arunika.
He didn't even bother to look at the speaker. "Let's make this quick. I'm busy."
"Mind your tongue before the President, sir," the hat-wearing man's adjutant cut in, his tone sharp and mocking. "You seem quite arrogant for someone whose people are so weak."
Elara held her breath. Her eyes flicked to Raka's unconscious aide, slumped lifelessly against the wall.
"You want to die?" Raka muttered. Without moving an inch, a thin red aura erupted from his body—dense, oppressive, filled with killing intent. The glasses on the table trembled, and Elara's knees nearly buckled.
"Withdraw your killing intent, Raka Elvaran!"
A calm but commanding voice sliced through the air, cold and absolute. His rank was no less than Raka's, yet his presence carried an entirely different gravity.
Raka stilled. The red aura slowly faded away.
From the grandest chair, the President of the Republic finally spoke. His wise, steady eyes swept across the room.
"If we are all calm now, let us begin. Today's matter concerns the major conflict erupting within the Seventh Council's territory."
He paused, letting the words echo in the heavy air.
"Tell me… does this have anything to do with ARVANDRAS?"
The name lingered—cold, foreboding.
Elara felt her skin prickle.
Arvandras.
A name that should have remained only in whispers, buried in forbidden legends.
---
Year 3007, Month of Janira — Arkan Calendar
Far from the political tension of Swargalis, on a small island called Orundal, the laughter of a seven-year-old boy broke the calm of morning.
He swung his wooden sword with fierce enthusiasm, sweat glistening along his brow.
"Dad, isn't this too much Arkanum just for basic movements?" asked Kael Arda Tirta, his long hair neatly tied behind him. His breath was short, but his eyes burned with focus.
"That's the minimum, son! Use any less, and you'll fail," said Arda Surya Karta, his father, watching with quiet pride. His solid frame radiated calm strength. With a gentle smile, he ruffled Kael's hair.
"Focus on the flow in your legs. Feel the ground beneath you. The sword is an extension of your will, not just your hand."
"Kaeeel, sweetheart—come inside! I've cooked the soup you wanted, with all my enthusiasm!"
Selaphine's cheerful voice carried from the house. "If you don't eat, I'll sell all your training gear to old man Rindam!"
Father and son exchanged a panicked glance—then sprinted inside, leaving behind the echo of Selaphine's laughter flowing from the kitchen.
At the dining table, warmth filled the room, laced with a mother's familiar rhythm of scolding.
"Kael, finish everything on your plate and remember to be thankful," Selaphine said, placing a steaming bowl before him. "And stop training with your father all day. You need friends."
"I don't need friends, Mom. You and Dad are enough," Kael said innocently, cheeks puffed with food.
"Oh, this boy…" Selaphine sighed, rubbing her temples, though affection softened her eyes.
Arda chuckled. "Let him be, dear. He's still a kid."
"That's exactly why I remind him!" she huffed. "Ugh—father and son, both the same."
Arda smiled softly, awkwardly yielding, as though surrendering was safer for his peace of mind.
Then Selaphine's tone turned serious. "But remember this, Kael—don't ever show your Arkanum abilities in public."
She paused, taking a sip of water. "It's against the laws of the Republic."
"For once, I agree with your mom, kiddo," Arda said, grinning to lighten the air.
"Yes, Mom," Kael muttered, setting down his spoon. "You've said that so many times."
"And we'll keep saying it until you turn twelve," Arda replied, calm but firm. "Rules exist for a reason, Kael. Don't test them—accidentally or not."
---
The hum of night creatures began to rise. Fireflies shimmered outside the window, their faint light dancing beneath three pale moons drifting among the clouds.
Peace settled over the small house as Kael lay across his mother's lap while Selaphine held an open book.
"Kael… read this line," she said softly, guiding his finger to an illustration.
"When the three moons of Arka shine full together, beware—
for the great wave may come."
Kael read the words carefully.
Selaphine smiled faintly. "What do you think the great wave means?"
Kael stared at the ceiling, eyes blank, his thoughts wandering. "Is it… something bad?"
"Hmm, not necessarily." Selaphine straightened. "Turn the page."
Rustle.
Kael's eyes widened. "Whoa… is that the floating island of Swargalis, Mom?"
"Yes," she said softly. "And maybe that 'wave' has something to do with it."
Kael tilted his head, confused. Selaphine smiled gently and pointed again.
"Look closely, Kael. Doesn't Swargalis look like a fourth moon? A land floating among the stars. That's where the Republic's heart beats."
Her finger traced downward. "And below it lies the capital, Aerwyna. See? The artist painted it like a river of light, towers of glass and steel piercing through the clouds."
Her voice turned wistful, as though she could see it herself. "Beautiful, isn't it? Up there, the great ones make decisions that shape the world. And below, millions live their lives."
"Why do they live above, not below with everyone else?"
"Because that's where power gathers, my dear—the heart of the Republic." She paused, her gaze deepening. "But sometimes, the highest places are also the loneliest."
She hugged him gently, then began to rise.
"Wait, Mom." Kael's small hand caught her sleeve.
"Hmm? What is it, love?"
"Do the floating islands—like Swargalis—have something to do with Arkanum too?"
Selaphine froze, then sat down again. "Maybe they do… or maybe not."
Her smile was beautiful, but uncertain.
"Why's that?"
"Do you know that this world, Arka, holds raw energy greater than anything else?"
"Yes! It's from the collision between the Sun and the three moons, right?"
"Exactly." She nodded approvingly. "That's what we call Arkanum—the world's life energy. But do you know why it's called raw?"
"Because humans can't use it directly," Kael said eagerly. "Nature has to absorb it first—mountains, oceans, forests, the soil. The energy they release is what we can use."
Selaphine smiled, stroking his hair. "That's half right."
"What? How can that be half right? That's exactly what the book said!"
She chuckled softly. "In general theory, yes. But in my research, humans can absorb raw energy directly—under certain conditions that sound impossible."
"Wow! Then how do I do it, Mom? Imagine how strong I'd be!"
Selaphine closed the book with a sigh. "Lesson's over for tonight, my little genius. Time to sleep."
"Come on, Mom, tell me!"
"In theory, it's possible, Kael. In practice… it's not." She tucked him under the blanket. "Now sleep. Tomorrow we'll read about Arka's ancient kingdoms. Maybe one of them was my homeland."
Her laughter faded as she left the room, closing the door softly behind her.
Kael stared out the window, thoughts circling like ripples on still water.
Outside, the three moons hung high, and that night he felt a strange vibration inside him—
as if the moons themselves sought to intimidate him with their energy.
---
From the television, a reporter's voice filled the room:
"The President of the Republic has announced that recent events in the Seventh Council's territory bear a strong connection to ARVANDRAS. After summoning the Nine Councils to Swargalis, this marks one of the most critical political moments in decades. What kind of situation is this, sir?"
The sound came from a small family TV—tuned to a daytime talk show on the state of the Karvanta Republic.
"Every channel keeps spewing the same nonsense," Arda muttered bitterly.
"What's wrong, love?" Selaphine asked, sitting beside him, her gaze fixed not on the TV, but on his face.
Arda sighed, his breath heavy. "Nonsense," he repeated quietly.
Selaphine leaned closer, her voice low and worried. "Love… does this have anything to do with them? You promised it was over."
Arda closed his eyes for a moment, jaw tight. "It is over," he said, his tone flat but storm-laden. "I just hate that they're dragging that name out again."
Without a word, Selaphine took the remote, turned off the TV, and pulled him by the hand.
"What are you doing?" he asked, startled.
"Then let it go," she said softly, resting a hand on his shoulder. "If it's really over, stop feeding it."
Her lips curved into a teasing smile. "Besides… isn't tonight perfect for watching the moons without a blanket?"
Arda blinked, his frown easing into a shy grin. "Didn't Kael say he doesn't want a little brother?"
Selaphine giggled, tugging him toward their room. "Oh, don't act innocent—you know exactly how that works."
The door closed quietly behind them.
Outside, the three moons glowed—each radiating the same energy, yet received differently by every soul below.
Equally trembling, equally beautiful—
but their differing pulses whispered a truth only night could hold:
that the three moons were not merely symbols of nature,
but emblems of harmony—and of the love humanity builds beneath their light.
—To be continued—