In the far south of the world, at the eastern edge of the continent of Asiana, lay the nation of Akkad—
and our beginning unfolds in its capital.
Dawn arrived shrouded in haze.
Before the first rays of sunlight touched the rim of the harbor, the sky practiced its own ritual of silence.
No birds sang.
No wind stirred.
Only a dense fog crawling over rooftops like a living creature, swallowing the city and turning it into a colorless canvas stripped of detail.
The great palace standing on the high hill looked like the last survivor of a purere.
Its ancient stone walls breathed with the fog, its crystal windows reflecting faint, washed-out light—like tired eyes observing a world from behind a curtain of grief.
On the wide marble balcony stood Agapios Stourgi, minister of Akkad.
Beside him were his sons—Tiflos and Orion Stourgi—still as statues carved into a moment of eternal waiting.
The old man leaned on his wooden staff, a companion that had walked with him through every chapter of his long life.
His thick white hair swayed in the subtle morning breeze, and his short beard looked like the unmelted snows of the northern mountains.
But what truly seized the eye were his silver irises—
eyes that did not belong to a single lifetime, but carried layers of wisdom, wounds, and silent victories.
As Tiflos looked at his father, a memory flickered…
A summer night long ago, both sitting on the palace rooftop beneath a sky overflowing with stars.
Agapios had told him:
"Stars do more than shine. They write. Those who read them find their path; those who ignore them drown in their own night."
It was the first lesson he had ever received—not from books, but from the sky itself.
The memory flashed like lightning in the dawn fog, and Tiflos's hand trembled when he felt the weight of his father's palm on his shoulder.
Beside him, Orion—two years younger—watched the horizon with wide blue eyes, as if searching for an answer hidden within the mist.
Tiflos whispered inside himself, unable to speak aloud:
"Father… why do you feel as though you're leaving us today?"
Agapios looked at his sons with a gaze carrying pride and sorrow, as if burdened with truths he could not share.
Then he spoke, his voice like the hush of waves brushing a faraway shore:
"Tiflos… Orion… even our silence is just a passing wave in the sea of existence.
Treasure everything precious—no matter how small it seems."
He smiled—a winter sunset kind of smile: beautiful, but foretelling an end.
---
Fourteen Years Earlier…
In a cold hospital room, two lives traded breaths.
On the white bed lay Lilith, fading like a candle, while in a nurse's arms a newborn cried for the first time—
Orion.
At the doorway, little Tiflos—barely three—clung to the wall, eyes wide, not understanding why his mother was so still.
Lilith's breath weakened, yet her eyes never left her children.
She raised her trembling hand, touching Agapios's cheek.
Her voice was barely a whisper:
"Look at them… Tiflos will need twice your gentleness.
Orion will one day ask for me.
Tell them… my love will be like a star—watching them even when they cannot see me."
Agapios held her hand as its warmth vanished.
Tiflos began to cry silently.
A baby was born.
A mother's heart stopped.
And a boy was forced to grow older than his years.
---
Weeks later.
Agapios sat in the children's room, rocking Orion's cradle with one hand while the other rested on Tiflos's tiny shoulder.
On the wall hung the last photo of Lilith, smiling with a sadness that now made sense.
Tiflos opened his eyes suddenly.
"Father… will you leave us like Mother did?"
Agapios pulled him close.
"I promise you, Lilith…
I will be mother and father to them both.
Tiflos will grow stronger than pain.
And Orion… will see your love in every beautiful thing."
---
That day, Agapios sealed his heart with four locks:
A gold lock — for a love that would never return
A silver lock — for the vow he made
A bronze lock — for the child who needed hope
And an iron lock — for the boy forced to become a man
---
Back on the balcony, after his final words, Agapios turned to leave.
His steps were slow, steady—measuring time itself.
Then suddenly—
He fell.
Like an ancient oak collapsing after a thousand winters.
No warning.
No illness.
Just one final wave of silence claiming him.
"Father!"
Orion screamed, voice cracking.
Tiflos did not scream.
He froze—red eyes widening, drowning in disbelief.
He remembered what his father always told him about the day of his birth:
"It rained heavily… your first cry sounded like a declaration of war upon the world."
But now there was no rain—
only silence
and the sound of something precious shattering.
---
THE KINGDOM OF WHITE PAIN
In the central hospital of Akkad, where walls were white but souls gray, the brothers sat on cold plastic chairs.
The scent of disinfectant strangled the air, and the fluorescent lights drained color from everything around them.
Orion, barely fourteen, slept on Tiflos's shoulder—his face innocent in a way that didn't belong to this world.
His blond hair fell over his brow, untouched by time.
Tiflos sat hunched forward, red eyes hidden behind a storm of thoughts.
His sharp nose and long black hair—streaked with white—reflected a life forced into early maturity.
His thin frame looked like a reed caught in an endless wind.
He wondered:
"Are we here to say goodbye…
or to understand?"
A nurse approached, voice trembling as if afraid to disturb ghosts:
"Tiflos… Orion… your father wishes to see you."
But what they saw was not their father—
only a lifeless body wearing his shape.
His silver eyes were still open, staring at something beyond their world.
Tiflos's vision blurred.
Orion sobbed uncontrollably.
Tiflos whispered:
"Perhaps the waves have taken him somewhere
where betrayal cannot reach."
---
THE EMPTY FUNERAL
Under a gray sky that mourned without a sound, the brothers stood before their father's fresh grave.
The earth was still wet.
The air carried a scent of soil and sorrow.
Tiflos looked around.
The chairs were almost empty.
A minister's funeral…
yet all the people who once laughed in their home had vanished.
Messages came like arrows:
"Sorry, my father wouldn't let me attend."
"Busy with an important meeting."
"Circumstances beyond my control."
Tiflos whispered:
"Do you see, Father?
You were right.
This world is made of waves…
and loyalty was the weakest wave of all."
Orion placed a white flower on the grave.
"Father… did you know everything would fall apart without you?"
Tiflos said nothing.
But something inside him began to stir—
as if hearts around him beat with an unnatural rhythm.
---
THE STOLEN HOME
When the brothers returned, the palace of their birth had turned into a fortress of strangers.
Iron gates that once opened freely were locked with new chains.
Officials handed them cold documents stamped with the state's seal:
"Minister Agapios Stourgi forged multiple records.
Therefore, all properties of the Stourgi family now belong to the state."
Tiflos didn't speak.
A black luxury car arrived.
From it stepped Kasami, the man they once called "uncle."
He offered no condolences—only a smile carved from ice.
"The palace… the cars… even your father's name in the registers—
all of it is mine now."
Orion stammered:
"W-why? What did we do?"
Kasami laughed softly.
"The world doesn't recognize blood.
Only documents."
Tiflos remembered what his father once asked him:
"What is the difference between an enemy and a friend?"
Child-Tiflos had answered:
"The enemy hurts me, the friend protects me."
Agapios corrected him:
"No, my son…
the difference is only a matter of timing."
---
ADRIFT
Hours later, they sat on a bench in a public park.
Tiflos held a small bag—the last remnant of their stolen life.
He whispered:
"Waves never show mercy…
and we are nothing but drifting wood in a sea of lies."
Orion asked with trembling eyes:
"Tiflos… why won't they let us go home?"
Tiflos forced a bitter smile.
"They stole everything.
But don't worry…
Father may be gone,
but I will take it all back.
And every person who wronged us…
will kneel."
Then—
a whisper from the darkness:
"Beware your eyes, Tiflos…
and you, Orion."
A faceless shadow formed beneath a streetlamp.
"Your red eyes will be your undoing, Tiflos.
Come with me…
I will show you the truth.
But the path will take everything from you."
Then it vanished.
Leaving behind only fear—
and a single question burning in both brothers' hearts:
Follow the wave into the unknown?
Or stay…
and drown slowly?
As the first drops of rain touched Tiflos's face,
he knew—
his old life had ended.
A new wave had begun.