The following morning, a royal guard named Hims appeared before King Kaelen in the throne room. His face was still pale, his eyes darting restlessly—as though he still couldn't believe what he had witnessed the previous night."Your Majesty," Hims said, dropping to one knee. "Forgive the intrusion, but I must report an urgent matter."King Kaelen raised an eyebrow. "Speak.""Last night, while on watch at the eastern gate, I caught sight of something in the distance. A silhouette. Massive and pitch-black. It stood enveloped in the mist, staring straight toward the gate. It didn't move, nor did it draw closer. I shouted, but it offered no reply. When I shone my lantern toward it, it vanished into thin air."Kaelen sat up straight, his posture rigid. "Are you certain it wasn't a trick of the mind? A tree or a boulder shrouded in the fog?""I am certain, Your Majesty," Hims replied firmly. "I have guarded the eastern gate for seven years. I know the shape of every tree and rock out there.

In the woods beyond the village, far from the roads and the homes of the locals, Arven stood in the middle of an open clearing.That evening, the skies over Valdoria glowed a golden orange, and birds had begun making their way back to their nests. There was no one around. Nothing but towering trees enclosing him, and a gentle breeze threading through the leaves.Arven closed his eyes. He drew a deep breath, feeling the air fill his lungs, then slowly released it.He felt the power within him, no longer as something alien, but as an ever-deepening part of himself. Arven opened his eyes and raised his right hand.Fire flared from his palm. Not the faint flame of his past, but a soaring burst of blue and gold, swirling like a mini tornado above his hand. Arven swept his arm out, and the fire followed the motion, forming a ring in the air around him.Arven smiled. He raised his left hand, and from his palm, water began to flow. Not a mere trickle, but a rushing stream that glistened under

The shadowed creature that had been lurking around Arven's house moved swiftly through the forest of Valdoria. Its body, black as mist, merged with the darkness, leaving no tracks, making no sound. It darted between the trees, weaving through the underbrush toward a deeper, more secluded place, an area even Arven had never known.At the edge of the forest, behind a moss-covered cliff, lay a narrow fissure wedged between two massive boulders. It was invisible from the outside, as if the rocks themselves intentionally concealed it. But the shadow beast, known as a fiend, knew the way. It compressed its form into that of a thin black serpent and slithered into the crack.Inside the fissure stretched a winding stone passage. And at the end of the corridor, something pulsed—a tear in the air, like a wound that would not heal. From that rift, the icy chill of the Shadow Realm seeped into the earth.The fiend darted into the rift. Its body twisted between space and time before landing upon t

King Kaelen stood in his throne room, his eyes staring blankly at the ethereal guardians kneeling before him. They were spectral beings he had personally assigned to protect Ellara—noble, loyal, and formidable shadows capable of sensing malice from afar. Yet that night, they had failed."You are telling me you detected no sign of danger?" Kaelen’s voice was cold, though not loud.The chief of the ethereal guardians, a figure composed of white mist with two gleaming points of light for eyes, answered in a trembling voice."Forgive us, Your Majesty. We were not negligent. We were not remiss. But the creature that visited Princess Ellara last night radiated no aura of harm."Kaelen furrowed his brow. "Radiated no aura of harm? It peeked into my daughter's bedchamber in the dead of night! It spoke to her!""True, Your Majesty," the guardian replied, "yet we sensed no intent to strike. No malice. No trace of dark magic directed at the Princess. The entity was present with a different purpo

Gideon sat in the back room of his father’s spice shop. Before him, small offerings were neatly arranged. Black candles, withered hair, and a piece of red cloth he had stolen from Ajiman’s house years ago. He still kept it. He had never truly forgotten Sarmila.Sarmila's face constantly intruded upon his thoughts. Her smile. Her gaze. The gentle tone in her voice when she spoke to Ajiman—a voice he had never received."Why did you choose him?" Gideon whispered, his fingers gripping the red cloth tightly. "I am wealthier. I am more established. I am far more worthy of you, Sarmila."Gideon unstoppered a small vial of black oil, dripping several drops onto the fabric. He closed his eyes, murmuring a low spell.The sorcery slithered out from the cloth, creeping through the earth toward Ajiman’s shop. Just like before. Gideon wanted to harm Ajiman again, to weaken his body, to drain his shop of customers, to make Sarmila see that Ajiman was useless.But the moment his magic touched Ajiman