"Irori… Irori."
My grandmother's voice drifted from the doorway — soft and raspy, like the wind brushing through dry leaves.
"I'm here, Grandma!" I called back from the edge of the field.
The cold evening air was settling in. Everything around me — the grass, the sky, even the soil beneath my feet — wore the same dull shade of gray. Just like every day before.
"Come home now, child," she said gently. "You know we can't see well after sunset. Not anymore."
"Alright!"
I brushed the dirt off my trousers and walked toward the tiny wooden house we called home. It wasn't much — just two cramped rooms, cracked windows, and a roof that groaned with every storm. But it had warmth. It had her.
She was waiting on the steps, wrapped in her old wool shawl, smiling softly like she always did.
Grandma was the only one who ever made me feel like I mattered.
My father barely looked at me unless he was angry. My brothers mocked me for being too small, too slow. I was the youngest of five, and the only one who didn't have strength or skill. They said I was weak. Useless. A burden.
But to Grandma… I was just Irori.
I sat beside her, and she reached for my hand. Her fingers were thin and cold, but her grip was steady — like a tree root clinging to life.
"Did you finish your chores?" she asked.
I nodded. "Fixed the fence too."
She smiled. "Good boy."
We sat quietly, watching the gray sky darken. No stars. No moon. Just an empty blanket of clouds.
After a while, I spoke.
"Grandma… can you tell me more about color?"
She didn't answer at first. Her eyes wandered upward, as if she was looking for something long lost.
"Color…" she whispered. "Now that's a word people don't say anymore."
"You always talk about it like it's real," I said. "But no one's ever seen it."
"That's because it was real," she replied. "Before your time. Before even mine."
I leaned into her shoulder. "What happened to it?"
"When I was a little girl," she said, "there was a story. A tale passed from whispers — about the day the Hero defeated the Demon King."
I blinked. "That's just a fairy tale, isn't it?"
She gave me a mysterious smile. "Maybe. Or maybe it's the only truth left in this world."
She looked far away again, like she could still see it.
"They said when the Hero struck the final blow, a great light swallowed the sky. So pure, so bright… that the world changed. The colors vanished. One by one. Red. Blue. Green. Yellow. Just… gone."
"Just like that?" I whispered.
"Just like that," she said. "I remember a red ribbon on my mother's dress. I saw it in the morning. But by nightfall… it had turned gray. Everything had."
"Why?" I asked.
"No one knew. Some blamed the Hero. Said he cursed the world. Others thought it was punishment for something we did."
She turned to me, her voice soft.
"Eventually, people stopped asking. They learned to live without color. Without wonder."
I was quiet for a long time, trying to imagine what a red ribbon looked like. I couldn't. But I wanted to.
"I want to see it," I said. "Even if it's just once."
She smiled and rested her head against mine.
"You will," she said.
"Really?"
"Yes," she whispered. "You're different, Irori. I don't know how, but I've always felt it."
We sat in silence, watching the world fade into night — not just from the sunset, but from something deeper.
Something broken.
Five Years Later...
My grandmother died when I was seven.
Since that day, my world grew darker.
My father became crueler. He beat me when he was angry — which was most of the time.
"You're pathetic," he'd say. "Look at you — ten years old and still nothing."
He wasn't wrong. I wasn't strong like my brothers. I didn't have their fists or their pride. I didn't belong in this house — not really.
My mother tried to protect me, but she was afraid too. She always flinched when he raised his voice.
Most days, I hid on the rooftop.
It was the only place no one bothered me. From up there, I could see past the broken fences, beyond the gray fields, all the way to the edge of the forest — a dark wall of shadow that stood like the edge of the world.
I used to wonder what was beyond it.
If color had ever lived there.
If it still waited.
Sometimes, when no one was listening, I would whisper to the sky:
"Dear God… if you're real… show me what color looks like."
I didn't expect an answer.
But that night… something changed.
I was lying on the rooftop, watching the gray sky turn to ash, when I saw it — a faint flicker above the trees.
At first, I thought it was a shooting star. But then it moved against the wind.
Fast. Sharp. Alive.
A figure.
Flying.
A girl.
It was hard to see clearly, but the figure wasn't dark like everything else. It was shining. Not glowing with color — just light, pure and white like the last spark of a dying candle.
My breath caught. I sat up too fast and slipped, tumbling off the roof with a loud thud straight into the cow bush below.
Thorns tore into my arms, and the leaves scratched my face. But I didn't care.
I had seen something real.
Alive.
Magic.
I scrambled to my feet and ran — barefoot, bruised, heart pounding — toward the forest.
The woods were silent when I entered.
Too silent.
No birds. No wind. Just the sound of my breath, quick and uneven. The deeper I went, the colder it became. My shirt clung to me with sweat, and every branch I stepped on cracked like it was screaming.
I held the glowing stone close to my chest, its soft white light flickering with each careful step. It wasn't much, but it was enough to see the ground in front of me, enough to avoid roots and fallen branches that clawed at my feet in the dark.
The forest was silent now—too silent.
But just minutes ago, I had heard them.
The sounds that drew me here.
That pulsing crackle. That boom in the distance.
Not thunder.
Magic.
I was sure of it.
And I believed it was her—the flying girl I saw in the sky earlier, her body surrounded by that pale light. The way she moved… it wasn't like anyone from the village. She was something else.
Someone who could see color.
Grandma once told me about them—those rare people, born under strange stars or chosen by fate. People who could still see the true world. People who could use magic. Nobles, mostly. The blessed few.
The rest of us?
We were shadows stumbling through a faded memory.
But I wanted to see what they saw.
That's why I kept walking, deeper into the forest, even when every instinct told me to turn back.
Even though all I could see were shades of gray, I had learned to live in this world. I knew the way the air changed when danger was close. I could hear better. Smell better.
But even with all of that, I wasn't ready for what I saw next.
Through the trees, the girl appeared again.
Floating above the forest floor like a ghost wrapped in moonlight.
From this distance, she looked about my age—maybe a little older. She wore a robe, long and flowing, patterned with designs I couldn't fully make out. Her hair streamed behind her in the wind, and her face…
Her face was calm. Focused. Beautiful, even in black and white.
Then she raised her hand.
And the forest exploded.
Bolts of lightning—real, living arcs of light—shot from her fingers, tearing through the darkness. They struck the creatures below. Horrid, crawling things with jagged limbs and empty eyes. The kind we were taught to never name out loud.
The kind that hunted after sunset.
Each bolt turned the monsters to ash. One after another. The girl moved like she'd done it a hundred times, but there was no arrogance in her. Only duty.
I could barely breathe.
I'd never seen real magic before.
Never seen light that wasn't pale and distant.
Was this what Grandma meant?
Was this what the world was supposed to look like?
I leaned forward, trying to see more—
And stepped on a twig.
CRACK.
The sound echoed like a scream through the trees.
She spun toward me instantly, her eyes flashing.
And before I could move—
Before I could even think—
BOOM.
A bolt of lightning struck me dead center.
Straight through my forehead.
I didn't feel pain.
Not at first.
Just heat, spreading through me like fire and starlight.
My body collapsed, but my mind—
My mind opened.
I was falling, weightless, yet wide awake.
The sky spread above me, deeper than I'd ever imagined.
And for the first time in my life…
I saw stars.
Not dull points in a foggy sky—real stars.
Bright. Shimmering. Endless.
I felt something catch in my throat. My eyes blurred.
"Grandma…" I whispered. "You were right."
I didn't know how long I lay there, but then… she appeared again.
Closer this time.
She stood above me, the light around her gentler now. Her figure blurred at the edges like a dream.
Her hair glowed, pure and white, flowing like silk in the breeze.
Her eyes… red. Vivid. Piercing.
Her dress shimmered—blue and gold, with threads I'd never imagined possible. It wasn't just beautiful.
It was color.
True, living color.
I couldn't help it. My breath caught.
"You're… beautiful," I murmured, barely able to speak.
Her eyes widened.
And then the light dimmed.
My vision faded.
The stars blurred.
And everything slipped into darkness.
To be continue....