As the blood of the Slivryn splattered across Elyon's face, he stood motionless, still clutching his swords with trembling hands. His chest rose and fell in ragged breaths, his body drenched in sweat and blood. The creature's massive form slumped before him, lifeless at last. For a moment, Elyon could hardly believe it—after all the struggle, the pain, the near-deaths—he had finally done it.
"I did it," he thought, dazed and panting. "I finally killed it."
His muscles ached, and the adrenaline that had kept him going now threatened to collapse him. He leaned forward, pushing the carcass of the beast off him. Its weight fell to the forest floor with a heavy thud. Elyon stood unsteadily, wiping the gore from his eyes, trying to make sense of the stillness around him.
But then—movement.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a blur—another Slivryn,sliding toward him, jaws open, mere inches away from striking.
Elyon's heart lurched in his chest, too slow to react. His limbs felt like stone.
Then, in an instant, a flash of light—bright and electric.
Richard appeared between him and the creature, his sword gleaming with crackling electricity. With one clean, precise slice, he brought the blade down, cutting the Slivryn clean in half. The beast let out a choked hiss before collapsing in two twitching halves.
Elyon stared in stunned amazement, eyes wide.
Richard didn't wait for thanks. Before Elyon could even get up, Richard grabbed him by the arm and hauled him over his shoulder in one effortless motion.
Then he ran.
Lightning surged in his wake as he sprinted through the trees, the world blurring into streaks of color and shadow around them. The forest vanished behind them in a storm of wind and light.
As they raced through the underbrush, Richard called out over his shoulder, his voice cutting through the rush of air. "This is over! They can keep themselves safe now—it's not our business anymore!"
Elyon barely registered the words, still dazed from the battle, but he didn't argue. He let himself be carried, exhaustion overtaking his body.
After what felt like both seconds and hours, they reappeared at the edge of the forest. The trees thinned, and then the canopy broke apart completely, revealing the open land beyond.
Richard skidded to a stop, dust kicking up around his boots. He let out a breathless laugh.
"Well," he said, grinning as he turned to Elyon, still slung over his shoulder, "that was an adventure."
"Yeah, I know," Elyon muttered, voice muffled. "But can you put me down now?"
"Oh. Right," Richard said, chuckling as he gently lowered Elyon to the ground.
Elyon straightened, stretching out his sore limbs, wincing slightly. Together, the two of them began to walk away from the forest, side by side. The trees behind them stood silent and tall, the chaos of battle now just a memory lingering in the shadows.
As they moved forward, Elyon's eyes were drawn to the horizon. The sun was beginning to set, its golden rays spilling across the land in long, soft beams. The sky was painted in hues of orange and pink, streaked with violet clouds that seemed to drift slowly toward the coming night.
He stared at it for a while, silently watching as the day faded away.
Then he thought to himself, with quiet reflection, This was truly an experience
As they reached their home, the silence of the forest was replaced by the gentle hum of village life. The familiar smell of the fields, the clatter of tools, and the soft voices of their neighbors welcomed them back. Elyon and Richard had returned, their clothes stained with blood and dirt, but their spirits were intact.
Days passed since that dangerous hunt. Then more days. And more still. Time began to slip by like water through cupped hands—constant, flowing, and uncatchable.
Over the years, Elyon's life took on a quieter rhythm. The chaos of that final Slivryn encounter faded into memory, replaced by the humble teachings of daily life. He learned to cook from his mother—simple meals at first, like stews and breads, but over time he began to enjoy the care and patience it required. There was something peaceful in the act of chopping vegetables or listening to water boil.
From his father, Elyon learned the art of the hunt—not just how to wield a sword or shoot a bow, but how to track, how to be silent in the woods, how to read wind, listen to birdsong, and understand the subtle signs of nature. His father's words stayed with him: "The forest speaks, Elyon. Learn its language, and it will never lie to you."
But it wasn't all comfort. I remember this clearly, because during that time, I began to hear whispers of something greater—Starfall Academy.
A name that sparked curiosity in the hearts of every child who had even a flicker of Essence within them.
Starfall Academy. A place of magic, history, and prestige. A sanctuary for Essencians—those born with the innate ability to sense and channel the world's hidden energies. It stood like a beacon of power and learning, settled at the convergence of six kingdoms: Liris, Doroska, Varnoth, Eldarim, Thalmark, and Nerathil. Its very existence served a diplomatic function, acting as neutral ground and peacekeeper between lands often wary of one another.
Children of noble lineage were often sent there to learn and grow. But it wasn't exclusive. Even commoners—if they had enough potential or skill—could earn a place. Each year, at the age of twelve, those who had shown promise were allowed to enroll. The Academy opened its gates to those willing to shape their destinies and, perhaps, the future of the world itself.
Now, at the age of twelve, it was my turn.
The day the letter arrived is etched into my mind.
It came wrapped in deep blue parchment, sealed with a silver crest bearing the mark of the Starfall sigil—a falling star encircled by seven rings. My parents opened it in the kitchen, the morning light falling across their faces.
But something was wrong.
I expected joy, celebration, pride.
Instead, they stared at the letter for a long time, their faces unreadable. My mother's fingers trembled slightly as she held it. My father read it twice, then set it down slowly.
There was no laughter. No shouts of excitement. Just silence.
When I finally asked them about it, trying to hide the growing knot of unease in my chest, they looked up and smiled—but it was a practiced smile, not the kind that reaches the eyes.
"There's nothing wrong," my father said. "We're proud—so very proud. Our son... going to Starfall."
My mother nodded in agreement, brushing my hair aside like she always did when she was trying to distract me. "You've been given an amazing opportunity, Elyon. This is everything we could have hoped for."
But their voices were tight. Their eyes darted away from mine too quickly. I knew them. I knew something wasn't right.
Maybe it was my own doubts speaking louder than reason. After all, I wasn't a prodigy. I wasn't from a known bloodline, or a warrior with stories already trailing behind me. I lived in a village so small that even merchants forgot it existed on most maps. And when it came to controlling my Essence—well, I could barely keep up with my father.
I had no great feat to my name. No miraculous event that would have caught the eye of one of Starfall's scouts. So why me?
That thought haunted me for days.
Even as the village prepared for my departure, even as my friends clapped me on the back and wished me luck, even as the town elder gifted me an old satchel for the journey—none of it felt real. It felt like I was stepping into something much larger than I understood. Something that had been quietly moving beneath the surface of my life for years.
And my parents knew it.
I caught them whispering once, late at night. I wasn't supposed to hear. I had gone to fetch my boots and paused outside their room when I heard my name.
"He's not ready," my mother whispered. "He's just a child."'He is not ready to know '
"He won't be alone," my father replied, his voice firmer. "If the Academy chose him, there must be a reason. Whether we understand it or not."
My mother didn't respond. But in the silence that followed, I imagined her crying.
The next morning, they were cheerful again. Too cheerful. They helped me pack, gave me long hugs, reminded me to write. But beneath it all, the same tension lingered. The kind that made a person speak gently, not because they were calm—but because they were afraid of breaking something fragile.
And maybe I was fragile.
But I didn't say anything.
As we stood on the hill outside our home, the sun just beginning to rise behind the treetops, I looked back one last time. My mother was holding back tears. My father placed a hand on my shoulder, firm and steady.
"This is the beginning," he said.
And it was.
Whether it began with glory, fate, or something darker—I didn't know.
But I was going to Starfall.
And everything would change.
As I made my way down the winding dirt path, I looked back one last time. Vender Village, my home for all these years, was already beginning to fade into the distance. Each step I took seemed to carry me farther from everything I had ever known. The familiar rooftops blurred into the trees, and soon the sound of my boots on the packed earth was the only company I had.
It was a strange feeling—this mix of excitement and dread. I was finally heading toward Starfall Academy, the place I'd heard about in whispers and stories, the place that had seemed like a dream until now. My parents had given me everything they could before I left: twenty gold, seventy silver, and one hundred and twenty copper cerda. Enough to buy supplies or pay for shelter along the way. I clutched the small coin pouch tightly, reminding myself how lucky I was to have their support.
The path widened as I went further. The edges of the forest spread into open fields, and soon the beauty of nature began to unfold around me. Birds darted between tree branches, their songs echoing through the warm morning air. A family of deer watched from a distance, still and alert. It was peaceful in a way I hadn't often experienced in my past life—a life of fire, stone, and smoke. A world where beauty like this didn't exist, or if it did, it was buried beneath ruin.
I took in the scenery with a quiet smile. Trees swayed gently in the breeze, their leaves rustling like whispered secrets. The scent of pine and wildflowers drifted through the air, and for a moment, I forgot how far I still had to go.
But reality quickly returned.
I pulled out the map I'd been given, unfolding it carefully. The route to Starfall Academy stretched across much of the region, winding through several cities and vast terrain. The Academy itself was nestled near the border shared by six great nations. From where I stood, it might take weeks on foot to reach it.
I sighed and lowered the map, just as I heard the sound of wheels creaking and hooves clopping on the road behind me. A carriage rolled into view, pulled by a pair of sturdy, chestnut-colored horses. The carriage was simple, painted with faded green panels and marked by dust from a long journey. The driver, a broad-shouldered man with a scruffy beard and sun-worn hat, reined the horses to a slow trot as he approached me.
"Hey, kid!" he called out, tipping his hat. "Where you headed?"
"Starfall Academy," Elyon replied, stepping slightly to the side of the road.
The man let out a low whistle. "Starfall? From here? That's quite the journey."
"I noticed," Elyon said dryly.
He laughed and pulled the reins to bring the carriage to a full stop beside me. "Well, you're in luck. I'm heading to Starline City. From there, you can catch a direct carriage to Starfall. Saves you a lot of walking."
Elyon eyed him warily. "Really? You're just offering a ride out of the kindness of your heart?"
The man grinned, leaning forward. "Alright, you got me. It'll cost you—forty copper cerda. Still a great deal if you ask me. Beats walking all that way."
Elyob weighed the offer for a moment. Forty copper wasn't nothing, but it wasn't too steep either. And if I could make it to Starline faster, that would be a huge help. Elyon was prepared to walk the whole way, but a ride like this could cut days, maybe more, off the journey.
Elyon let out a short sigh and nodded. "Fine. You've got a deal."
"Climb in," he said with a satisfied smile, patting the side of the carriage. "We'll be in Starline by nightfall if the weather stays clear."
Elyon stepped up onto the carriage and found a seat inside, tucking my bag beside me. The interior was worn but clean, with enough space to stretch my legs. As the carriage lurched forward again, Elyon looked out the small window, watching the road blur by. The horses picked up speed, the wind brushing against my face.
As the trees passed in a blur and the journey began in earnest, I couldn't help but wonder—what exactly was waiting for me at Starfall?
Something was changing. Elyon could feel it.
And there was no turning back now.