The sun broke over the horizon, casting golden light over the snow-dusted rooftops of Liria. At the village gate, the entire village had gathered once more—wrapped in cloaks, eyes damp, hearts full.
Brann stood tall, arms crossed, pride etched in every line of his weathered face. "Go," he said firmly, "and don't look back until you've carved your names into the world."
Eren, Kael, Lyra, and Reina stood shoulder to shoulder, each with a packed satchel and a soul sword resting gently in spirit form on their backs.
Arin stood beside Brann, clutching the blue river stone.
Eren looked back one final time—at the people, the home, the memories. His eyes met Arin's. She gave him the tiniest smile and mouthed the words: "I'll wait."
He nodded, turned, and took the first step down the snow-lined path beyond the village gate.
The others followed.
And so began their journey—not as children of a quiet village, but as soul sword disciples walking toward fate, friendship, and the trials that would one day forge them into legends.