Their steps silently followed Eliora.
The forest still whispered with hidden breath,
and the mist seemed endless…
but the man never stopped walking.
He moved ahead without looking back,
and from time to time, Leora muttered under her breath:
Leora (irritated):
"Is it even normal to follow someone we know nothing about?
He hasn't even told us his name…"
Riven (dryly):
"I figured we're following him because he's the only one who didn't try to kill us."
Leora:
"Your logic is both… amazing and concerning."
⸻
Minutes later, they arrived at a hollow inside a massive tree trunk.
From the outside, it looked like any dead tree…
but inside, it was something else entirely.
A simple wooden cabin.
Shelves filled with softly glowing vials.
Walls of clay marked with ancient symbols that resembled no known language.
Eliora sat on a cushion by the fire and gestured for them to sit, saying nothing.
Eliora (finally speaking):
"I am from Moraleska, like you.
But long ago, I left… not to run, but to seek truth."
"I was one of its spellcasters… no, one of its sages.
But one day, the island itself whispered:
'You won't understand your shadow… until you see a different light.'
So I left."
⸻
Riven (scratching his head, mildly surprised):
"So you… were one of the top brass?"
Eliora (with a sly smile):
"Greatness doesn't always come with clarity, boy."
⸻
Leora (cautiously):
"And what is your connection to the Shadows?"
Eliora stared into the ashes for a moment.
Eliora:
"I was among the first to fight their appearance the first time.
But what I saw beyond the island… was worse than I had imagined.
Now… you are part of the war that's coming."
Leora (softly):
"You were waiting for us… weren't you?"
He pulled a white stone from his pocket and cracked it.
Its two halves glowed with different lights:
• A brilliant blue
• And a deep, burning red
Eliora:
"Days ago… this stone lit up.
The blue half meant your arrival, Leora.
The red… a heart that carries light within — you, Riven."
⸻
Riven (standing abruptly):
"Okay, hold on. How do you know our names? We never told you!"
Eliora smiled for the first time — a real smile, but it didn't carry comfort.
It was the kind of smile from someone who always knew too much.
Eliora:
"When you fell from Moraleska's light… the earth shuddered.
And the island… whispered your names to me."
Leora (whispers):
"So we were… exiled?"
Eliora (looking directly at her):
"No. You are… the key to returning."
⸻
A long silence fell.
Then Riven spoke, his tone oddly serious:
"Okay… one last question.
Do you have any food? Or do we just dream about it?"
Eliora chuckled softly, then pointed at the table:
Eliora:
"You have two options:
Salted herbs… or a soup made of mushrooms that occasionally talk."
Leora (raising an eyebrow):
"I think… I'll stick to the dream. Easier that way."
⸻
And so…
their first night in Eliora's cabin began.
Full of questions, uncertainty, and a flicker of light — so small, yet present.
Morning came… quieter than any they'd known.
The wind gently played with the treetops, as if eavesdropping,
and the sky wore a pale gray that brought no comfort.
Leora sat near the fire, eyes lost in the embers,
while Riven lay stretched on the wooden floor, one arm behind his head, staring at the ceiling like it held answers.
Suddenly, Leora asked, her voice a blend of worry and wonder:
Leora:
"Eliora… we need to understand.
Why us? Why now?
What's happening to the island?
And who attacked it?"
Eliora looked up… then back to the fire.
Eliora:
"Some questions don't arrive early by accident.
When questions overflow… a beginning is near."
Riven (still eyes closed):
"Wow. That's the kind of answer you carve on a temple wall."
Eliora smiled faintly, then stood and walked to a wooden shelf.
He pulled out an old leather scroll and laid it open before them.
Inside was a worn map of Moraleska, its edges blackened —
as though inked by creeping poison.
Eliora (quietly):
"Moraleska wasn't attacked from outside alone.
Someone opened the door from within.
Danger… doesn't always come from afar."
He paused, then continued:
Eliora:
"The Shadows no longer just attack…
they choose.
They seek out those with light inside… to snuff it out."
Leora (her voice trembling):
"Are we… that light?"
Eliora (re-rolling the scroll):
"You are part of it.
That's why you were removed from the island —
not as punishment… but as survival."
Riven (leaning against a post):
"If we're your last bet… then you're in deep trouble."
Leora chuckled, briefly.
But Eliora's expression silenced even her laugh.
Eliora (calmly):
"Save the world?
Perhaps.
But what awaits you…
is greater than a battle."
Leora:
"Then what is it?"
Eliora:
"Survival."
⸻
A hush settled again.
Then Eliora said:
Eliora:
"That's why… I'll train you.
The world beyond Moraleska is not what you've known.
There are no mentors at every corner.
No laws that protect the unready.
Out here… the world is a beast.
And tears won't save you."
Riven (raising an eyebrow):
"Training us because you care?"
Eliora (shaking his head):
"I'll train you because the world won't wait for you to become strong."
⸻
From that moment on…
everything began.
The beginning was cruel.
Running over rocks was the morning warm-up.
Under sun, under rain, under snow that came from skies no one recognized.
They learned how to endure days without food.
How to spark fire from cold ash.
How to tell a healing plant from a deadly one.
Run.
Then run more.
Then fall.
That was day one for Riven and Leora.
Riven (crawling to a tree):
"This isn't training.
This is civilized torture."
Leora laughed despite the pain in her legs:
Leora:
"It's… exhaustion, you idiot."
All year long, they trained.
Speed. Endurance. Breath. Balance.
And the basics of magic: lighting objects, guiding wind, calming wounds.
____
A year had passed since Elyora began training Raven and Leora.
The Second Year: First Encounters.
Elyora named it "The Year of Confused Courage."
They fought low-level monsters—creatures made of clay and smoke, who only attacked when they felt fear.
One day, Raven asked in surprise,
"Are we supposed to scare them… or scare ourselves?"
But with every battle, their confidence grew.
They discovered they could use magic for both offense and defense—although gently.
Offense required courage… defense required deep emotional understanding.
Elyora once said,
"Magic doesn't listen to your fear… it listens to your honesty."
They fell silent, trying to grasp the deeper meaning.
But he only told them,
"You'll understand it soon enough."
As time passed, the training grew harsher.
They crossed lands with no comfort,
forbidden from using any spell for days.
The goal was clear:
Master their powers in the harshest of conditions—
or lose the ability to use them entirely.
They endured.
In silence.
With invisible wounds that no one could see.
One evening, Leora whispered,
"Every part of me is screaming… except my heart. It's quiet."
Raven clenched his fists and replied,
"Don't worry… I'm here with you.
I'm tired too, I want to rest—but I'll never give up."
His words planted strength in her heart.
She stood again, smiling at him with gratitude.
"Raven… you're truly amazing. Thank you."
He looked at her, proud, eyes glowing with fire and mischief—
ready to continue their grueling journey.
Elyora took them to abandoned sanctuaries,
places once filled with powerful mages.
Now, only old books remained—records left behind to preserve knowledge.
Each place had its own language, its guardians, its rituals.
In the darkness of a cave, as they began to learn magical techniques—
a spark ignited in Raven's palm.
He shouted,
"Elyora! My hand—it's burning!"
For the first time, Elyora laughed.
"That's your light… not your flame.
Don't fear it—listen to it."
As for Leora, glowing symbols appeared around her.
She whispered one of them—
and the earth trembled for a brief moment.
"Amazing… just amazing," Raven said, staring at her in awe.
Elyora muttered to himself,
"This… is not the magic of an ordinary girl."
Leora panicked, unsettled by the tremor.
Sensing her fear, Elyora placed his hand gently on her shoulder and simply said:
"Don't let worry consume you."
Then he stood tall before them.
"Learn this—magic is not only power… it is responsibility."
They later faced creatures with multiple eyes, flaming tongues,
and thoughts that whispered doubt into their minds mid-battle.
Raven nearly harmed himself in one of those fights—
until Leora screamed his name,
unleashing a red beam from her hands without even knowing how.
Elyora, watching closely, nodded and said:
"Your magic… has started to listen."