The Fourth Nation War had begun.
It sparked quietly at first—like embers hidden beneath ash, a whisper of violence in a land long thought untouchable. But soon, fire swept across Ycracuse, devouring forests, drowning valleys in blood, and cracking the pillars of peace that had stood for centuries.
The Areise, native children of the land, once thrived in harmony with the Sun and Moon Elves. Together, they were said to be three threads of a single tapestry—distinct in nature, but united in purpose. Ycracuse had not known true conflict for an age.
Until the Imperials came.
From across the sea they arrived—humans of Galasun, shaped by steel and conquest, their eyes hungry for dominion. They called the Areise weak. They branded the elves unnatural. And they saw Ycracuse not as a home—but as a prize.
Alone, the Imperials would have fallen.
But they made a pact.
Kaizer—the demon lord sealed in the Abyss—offered them his power in exchange for one thing:
The death of Eclipse, Queen of the Elves, guardian of both Sun and Moon bloodlines.
Her death shattered the balance.
And war returned to Ycracuse.
To preserve what remained, King Edward of the Areise formed a pact of his own—with Eclipse's blood heirs—and the War for Peace was born.
---
A worn leather book shut with a heavy thud, the echo lingering like a held breath in the quiet of the academy's upper classroom.
"—and that," the instructor said, her voice steady and low, "was how the Fourth Nation War began."
Silence followed. The afternoon sun spilled through high windows, painting the hardwood floor in stripes of gold. Outside, wind rustled gently through the leaves, a calm contrast to the lesson's weight.
Most of the students were too young to understand what it all truly meant. They whispered to one another, shifting in their seats, daydreaming about swordplay and heroism.
Only two remained still.
Martin Page sat near the back, his white hair tied loosely, violet eyes narrowed in thought. His posture was perfect. His expression unreadable.
Beside him sat Rose Valerin, her long pointy ears from her sun elf heritage. Loose curls framed her sharp amber eyes. She leaned back in her seat, arms crossed, but her gaze remained fixed on the now-closed book.
The instructor turned toward them. "Martin. Rose. You've both read ahead in the archives. What do you think sparked the war?"
Martin's response was simple. "Greed."
Rose's voice followed. "Pride."
The instructor nodded quietly. "Both are correct. Two sins that live amongst-" the instructor continue to preach to the class but Martin wasn't paying attention to her but rather the sky outside.
---
The day ended in a quiet haze.
The academy's bell rang, and the younger students rushed out, their laughter echoing off the stone walls of the inner city. But Martin and Rose walked with no rush.
Their path curved along the riverbank that ran parallel to the academy's rear gate, shaded by ancient cypress trees.
"You didn't say much today," Rose said, hands tucked behind her back.
Martin's gaze lingered on the water. "Not much worth saying."
"Still thinking about him?" she asked softly.
He didn't need to answer. She already knew.
"It's been four years, Martin. He might not—"
"I know." His voice was sharp at first. Then it softened. "But if I stop hoping, what do I have left?"
Rose sighed, stopping to lean against the bridge railing. "I miss my father too. But at least we know he died fighting. Your father… he just disappeared into the mountains."
"Winter Peak," Martin muttered. "He said he had to reach the Frozen Throne before the Imperials did. That there was something there that could protect us all."
"And your mother believed him." Her tone darkened. "Even as she grew sicker waiting."
Martin didn't respond.
The wind shifted. Cold and Heavy.
They stood in silence for a long moment.
"You'll be eighteen tomorrow," Rose said at last. "Meaning you will be able to be apart of the royal army?"
"I've already been drafted," Martin replied. "I leave before the winter solstice."
Rose turned her head sharply. "And you weren't going to tell me?"
"I didn't want to waste what little time we had talking about it."
She stared at him. "So that's it? You go to war, I stay here pretending things are fine?"
"I thought you'd be sent to the capital for your magical studies. Your affinity scores were high enough."
"I turned them down," she said. "I'm not leaving this place."
Martin blinked. "Why?"
Rose looked at him with something fierce and vulnerable all at once. "Because I want to fight for this land. For the people still trying to survive it. For you. What good does it do if i study magic that already been researched when I can fight on the front lines."
He didn't know what to say. So he looked at the sky, the clouds slowly moving like ancient memories across the fading light.
"What would you do," she asked him suddenly, "if the war ended tomorrow?"
Martin exhaled. "Live a simple life, with a wife and kid. I had alway enjoyed crafting, so I can maybe make it a profession. Maybe write a book about different monsters in this world."
Rose smiled wistfully. "I would become a painter that explores the world of its beauty. Find the ocean and paint it over and over until I ran out of color."
Martin turned to her. "That doesn't sound like you."
"It's the part of me that doesn't want to be a soldier," she said. "That still wants to dream."
A silence hung between them. Bitter and warm.
Then she stepped closer.
"Let's make a promise," Rose said, holding out her hand. "When the war ends… we find each other again. No matter where we are. No matter who we've become."
Martin looked at her hand for a long moment.
Then he took it.
And in the golden hour light, two teenagers stood at the edge of a crumbling world, quietly daring to believe in something more.