The wind rolled gently through the grasslands north of Luminera.
The air was clear — almost too clear — as if the world itself was holding its breath.
Cattle grazed lazily in the distance. The sun hung low, painting the fields in amber and gold.
It was a scene of peace, untouched by war or prophecy.
And yet, standing at the center of that field was a man who did not belong to peace.
Morian Veyr, the Vein of Power, stood with his arms crossed, eyes closed, the faint hum of Aether vibrating in the air around him.
He was still. Immovable. A mountain disguised as a man.
The breeze brushed against him, tugging at the edges of his cloak.
For hours, he hadn't moved an inch.
But his voice finally broke the silence.
Low, calm, filled with an unshakable certainty.
"Once I sense your presence, you cannot hide. Not from me."
He smirked faintly to himself.
"Come on, Shadow. I know you're watching."
Minutes passed. Then an hour.
Even the birds stopped singing.
And finally —
A whisper.
A change in pressure.
The color of the world dimmed slightly, as if reality itself had blinked.
Morian's eyes opened.
And there he was.
Dravon Valeis appeared without flash or fanfare.
Just a man stepping out of stillness.
He stood a few paces away, hands in his pockets, his black-and-platinum hair moving with the breeze.
The crimson of his eyes gleamed faintly beneath the half-shadowed sky.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Dravon exhaled softly, almost like a sigh.
"So," he said, his tone quiet and measured, "you actually waited this long."
Morian grinned. "I told you. Once I feel your presence, I don't forget it."
"You always were stubborn," Dravon said, his lips twitching into something that might've been a smile.
"I call it consistency."
"Of course you do," Dravon replied. "So what now, old friend? Are we going to talk like philosophers, or are your fists getting impatient?"
Morian chuckled. "You know me too well. However, I'm bringing you back."
Dravon sighed. "Even the great Titan follows a weakling now. I expected that much from Suvarn and Kaenmor. But you.. and Deyr? Seems like you have gone pathetic."
Morian laughs. "Weakling huh? All the weakness I see is standing right in front of me. Come on brother, you look terrible."
Dravon grinned. "That hero. What's so special about her? Or is it juts because young Suvarn has been blinded by her?"
Morian smiled. "Blinded? Neh. Boy might just be in love."
Dravon sighed. "Well that's what I call being blind."
Morian takes a step. "Are we going to talk all day?"
Dravon nodded, stepping closer, his boots barely disturbing the grass. "We both hate talking before a fight, don't we. Then let's skip the pretense."
He tilted his head slightly, voice soft but sharp.
"You want the fists to talk? Then why don't you get to it?"
Morian's grin widened.
"With pleasure."
.....
Far away, within the marble halls of the castle, Elira stopped mid-step.
A pulse of Aether — vast, ancient, suffocating — tore through the air.
Her eyes widened. "No…"
She turned, sprinting through the corridor. Her sandals echoed sharply against the stone floors.
She pushed through guards, startled maids, startled nobles.
Her breath hitched as she reached the far end of the corridor — the wing where Elayne's chamber lay.
She didn't knock. She slammed the door open.
"Elayne!" she gasped, rising her from her chair. "What—"
Elira's voice was breathless, urgent.
"Dravon's here."
....
The world fell silent again.
Two figures stood in the field — one in light, one in shadow.
Neither moved.
Not yet.
They simply looked at each other — not as enemies, but as inevitabilities.
Far away, from his chamber, Kaenmor felt it through the wind.
He whispered softly into the breeze, eyes closed:
"Do not falter, old friend."
And then — the silence broke.
Morian moved first.
The ground exploded beneath his feet as he charged, his gauntlets blazing with kinetic light.
Dravon didn't flinch.
He stepped aside, the wind whispering past him as Morian's strike tore through the air, leveling a section of the field behind him.
The cattle scattered.
Morian spun, faster than a boulder should move, sending another punch toward Dravon's ribs.
This time Dravon blocked — casually, one hand, the sound like steel against thunder.
Morian grinned. "Finally warmed up?"
Dravon sighed. "Against you it's never warmup."
He shoved forward, twisting, using Morian's own momentum against him.
The titan stumbled back, boots dragging furrows into the soil.
Morian laughed. "That's the Dravon I remember."
"You remember an idiot," Dravon said quietly. "Not me."
....
Back at the castle, Queen Seraphine stood by her balcony.
She could feel it — like a storm beneath her skin.
Her hand tightened around the railing.
"The last one…" she whispered.
"He's returned."
Below her, the horizon pulsed faintly with bursts of energy — one gold, one black.
She closed her eyes. "Light will always draw shadow back."
...
Back in the field, the blows grew heavier, faster.
Each strike from Morian cracked the earth. Each dodge from Dravon rewove the shadows.
Their conversation became movement — their memories told through battle.
Morian's voice boomed through the fight.
"You could've come back sooner!"
Dravon parried a strike, their auras colliding with a shockwave that sent dust spiraling upward.
"You could've stopped looking for me," he replied.
"You vanished!"
"I had to."
"Why?!"
Dravon's eyes hardened. "Because this world is full of shit. We should let it bleed."
Morian roared, slamming his gauntlet into the ground. The resulting quake sent a shockwave rippling through the plains.
The very earth lifted like a tide.
Dravon's coat flared, his sword still sheathed.
"You're still too loud," he muttered.
....
For a long moment, the two stood still again — the field half-ruined around them.
Morian's breathing grew heavier, his muscles burning with effort.
Dravon hadn't moved an inch.
He looked… sad.
That was what struck Morian hardest — not his strength, not his grace — but that look.
The sorrow in those crimson eyes that didn't belong to any monster.
Morian chuckled breathlessly. "Oh, brother… I'll defeat you this time."
Dravon tilted his head slightly. "You always say that."
"Because one day it'll be true."
...
Morian stepped forward, summoning the force of his power.
The ground split beneath him as the Titan Gauntlets glowed red-hot — kinetic energy surging through their veins.
Every ounce of strength he had — every memory, every fight, every laugh — channeled into this last strike.
Dravon sighed softly, eyes closing.
Then, without another word, he reached over his shoulder and drew his blade.
Eclipsera.
The cursed Darkblade. Its surface shimmered like glass soaked in shadow, humming with a voice that wasn't human.
The world stilled.
The wind stopped.
The clouds froze.
Time itself seemed to bend around the two.
From far away, Elira and Elayne reached the ridge overlooking the field.
They stopped, breathless, as the two figures below faced each other — one blazing like dawn, one standing like dusk.
They could feel the tension, the history, the grief.
Elira whispered, "We're too late…"
Morian exhaled slowly, lifting his gauntlets.
"Before the world does.... Let's see if the shadows can bleed."
Dravon raised his sword. The crimson gleam cut the sunlight apart.
Their eyes met — a thousand years of memory in a single look.
Then, together, they moved.