On one quiet night,
they sat near a lonely fire—
a single flame surrounded by endless darkness.
The sky was cloaked in clouds,
yet in Leora's eyes… there was a faint light.
And on Raven's face… a stubborn resolve, worn with fatigue.
Leora hugged her knees and asked softly:
"Do you think we'll survive?"
Raven tossed a pebble into the fire.
"No…"
Then smiled, and added:
"I think we'll save the world."
She glanced at him, then chuckled lightly:
"Arrogant as always."
He stared into the flames.
"I'm not arrogant… I just don't know how to give up."
Then he turned to her, his voice serious:
"I don't know what we'll face.
But I do know one thing…
I won't leave you.
No matter what happens… I won't let the world take you from me."
She was quiet for a moment… then reached out her hand.
He took it. Their fingers intertwined beneath the firelight.
She whispered:
"We'll finish this journey together.
We're the ones who will stop the shadows…
We'll bring the light back."
He held her hand tightly and smiled:
"That's a promise."
"Promise," she echoed.
Seven years passed.
Winter had begun to stretch its cold breath across the land.
The trees shed their last leaves,
and Raven, with trembling hands, scribbled into a worn notebook:
"Another year ends… but I feel a new beginning is near."
Elyora began to notice changes.
Leora grew quieter,
but her eyes glowed whenever she touched the ground.
Raven started seeing symbols—
before they were even spoken,
as if reading what will happen, not just what is.
One evening, Elyora sat under a tree, observing them.
He thought to himself:
"Something inside them… is awakening.
But not together—each in their own way."
At the end of the seventh year,
during a training session on "Protection Fields,"
Leora released a massive red aura that shook the earth.
Elyora stopped, eyes wide.
He stared at the scorched earth.
"Well done… Stop now," he said calmly.
Once she left, he remained standing,
staring at the ground.
He murmured:
"No… This isn't ordinary magic.
The color, the frequency… everything points to…"
He fell silent.
Then looked toward the sky:
"Could she be… from that bloodline?
But they… were wiped out after the First War."
He placed a hand over his heart.
"She's still young.
Carrying this truth would crush her…
When the time comes, I'll tell her."
The next morning, he approached her gently.
"Leora…
Your power is not ordinary.
You have a future unlike anyone else.
And when the time is right… you'll understand."
Leora stared at him, then gave a quiet, brave smile.
Later, Raven lay flat on his back after a brutal training session, panting like he'd survived the end of the world.
"Leora… If I die now, tell Elyora I was brave.
At least… four percent brave."
She approached, raising an eyebrow:
"Don't worry. I'll write on your tombstone:
'Died… while complaining.'"
Raven groaned:
"I'm not complaining—I'm documenting my tragedy."
He pointed at his trembling arm:
"Did you know my muscles have gone on strike?"
Leora smirked:
"What muscles? You mean those?"
He covered his face.
"Winter is cruel… training is crueler… and you're the cruelest of all."
She finally laughed:
"Congrats—you just discovered the worst horror trilogy of your life."
Eight years.
Eight seasons of sweat, pain, failure, and growth.
On a morning no birds dared to sing,
the three stood at the forest's edge—
where the familiar ended, and the unknown began.
Elyora looked at Leora and Raven.
Their bodies stronger.
Their eyes deeper.
Their hearts beating with unwavering resolve.
He said:
"You're no longer students.
You are now the bearers of Moraliska's light…
And the ones who will uncover who betrayed her in the shadows."
Leora asked, her voice trembling slightly:
"Will we finally know… who betrayed the island?"
He nodded slowly:
"You will.
But truth is never given… it must be taken."
He paused, as if something heavier than words sat on his chest.
"The Shadow… didn't rise on its own.
It's not just mindless power—it is will.
A person is behind it.
Someone still alive."
Raven and Leora exchanged glances.
Raven muttered:
"Please don't say it's one of us."
Elyora shook his head:
"I don't know who it is.
I've never seen them.
But I know one thing…
The betrayal didn't come from afar.
It came from within Moraliska itself."
Leora's heart sank:
"That means… our enemy knows us well."
He nodded solemnly:
"Better than we know ourselves."
Raven sighed, reaching for his enchanted sword:
"Great… After all this waiting, we finally get to hit something worth hitting."
Leora smiled:
"Don't forget to strike with your mind first… before your blade."
He stepped forward:
"Honestly… my brain's tired. It's muscle time."
Elyora chuckled.
Then pulled out an old, carefully folded map.
"This map will lead you… to where the Shadow was born."
He stood before them, eyes glowing with wisdom and concern:
"The battle hasn't begun yet…
But you're now at its doorstep."
Leora looked toward the horizon.
She felt a secret pulse in her chest—
as if something knew… she was close.
She whispered:
"I feel like the island is still calling us… with a voice only I can hear."
Elyora, watching her, replied:
"That's because you carry a bloodline… that no longer exists."
She looked up at him—
but he changed the subject quickly.
Just before they could take their first step into the new world,
a cold wind swept past.
A fog rolled in—one that hadn't been there moments ago.
Within the mist… a burned piece of parchment floated through the air,
landing at Raven's feet.
He picked it up.
It was blank.
But Leora saw the ashes swirl for a second—
writing three words:
"You're too late."
They looked at each other in silence.
Elyora whispered:
"The Shadow… knows we've begun to move."
Then to himself, barely audible:
"But how does it know…?
Unless… it's been watching us all along."