The world had forgotten what dawn looked like.
Not for years—but for centuries.
The sky no longer promised light. It hung above the land in a dull, endless gray, pressing down like a silent curse.
Magic still existed—but it had changed.
It was no longer a blessing.
It had become something cruel. Something that fed on fear… on pain… on despair.
Fields lay barren, their soil cracked like old wounds.
Rivers carried no life—only ash and the remnants of what once was.
Cities that had once shone with pride now stood broken, hollow shells swallowed by silence.
Hope still existed.
But only in whispers.
Fragile. Fading. Always on the edge of disappearing.
"They say light and dark were meant to be bound together," the elders would murmur.
Their voices carried fear… not wisdom.
"But they never meet. There is only separation… and the world suffers between them."
The war had ended long ago.
Or at least… that was what people believed.
Because the truth was far more terrifying.
History was not written in ink.
It was carved into flesh… and sealed with blood.
A war between forces no human could truly understand.
Light and dark clashed like gods tearing reality apart.
The sky fractured.
The earth trembled, as if it wanted to split open and escape.
And then—
It stopped.
No victory.
No defeat.
Only silence.
Both forces vanished… buried beneath the world like something waiting to rise again.
A thousand years passed.
Time moved forward.
But the scars never faded.
Far from the ruins of those ancient battlefields, in a quiet corner of the world, stood a small house.
Inside, a sharp cry broke the silence.
A newborn.
Alive.
Loud.
Almost out of place in a world that had forgotten how to feel.
A few people stood around the bed, their expressions mixed with relief and quiet tension.
On the bed lay a woman, her body weak—but her arms steady as she held the child close.
Her silver hair fell softly around her shoulders, catching the dim light.
Her deep blue eyes were calm.
Too calm.
Like an ocean hiding something beneath its surface.
Beside her stood a man.
Tall. Broad. Unmoving.
He looked like someone who had spent his life on the battlefield.
His beard was thick and well-kept, his posture firm like a shield that refused to break.
But his eyes carried something heavier than strength.
Responsibility.
A woman nearby finally spoke.
"Duke… what will you name your son?"
The room fell quiet.
Duke didn't answer immediately.
He stepped closer, his gaze settling on the child.
The crying had softened now.
Small hands moved weakly… reaching for nothing, yet holding everything.
For just a moment, his hardened expression eased.
"…Elias."
The name settled into the room.
Simple.
But it carried weight.
For a second, no one spoke.
Then soft laughter spread among them.
Duke frowned slightly. "What?"
No one gave a proper answer. A few just shook their heads, smiling.
He crossed his arms, his voice firm.
"It's a strong name. It'll suit him."
This time, no one disagreed.
Because in this world…
Names were not just names.
Sometimes, they carried fate.
Lili—his wife—smiled gently.
Unlike the others, there was no teasing in her expression.
Only warmth.
She looked down at the child, her fingers brushing lightly against his cheek.
"Elias…" she whispered.
Her voice held something deeper than happiness.
Hope.
The baby's eyes slowly opened.
For a moment, they struggled to focus.
Then—
They found her.
Silent.
Calm.
Watching.
A thin ray of sunlight slipped through the window, falling across his face.
It touched his eyes.
And for the briefest moment…
They shimmered.
Not brightly.
Not unnaturally.
But just enough to feel… different.
Outside, the village rested in quiet peace.
Small houses lined narrow paths.
Smoke rose gently from chimneys.
Life moved slowly here.
Safely.
Or at least… it seemed that way.
Dense forests surrounded the village like a natural wall.
Tall trees stood close together, their shadows stretching long and deep.
From afar, they looked calm.
Up close…
They felt like something was watching.
Waiting.
A narrow road cut through the village, worn but steady, connecting lives and stories together.
At its center lay a small pond.
Still.
Clear.
Silent.
Its surface reflected the dull sky above… like a fading memory.
It was a simple place.
Not rich.
Not powerful.
But peaceful.
Too peaceful.
Because in a world like this…
Peace never lasted.
And somewhere far beyond the forest…
Something had already begun to move.