Morning light entered gently through the circular windows of Velan's elemental preschool, tinting the walls with a warm golden hue, as if the sun itself wanted to listen to the lesson. Crystals suspended from the ceiling turned slowly, reflecting the seven primordial colors — scarlet red, deep blue, silvery white, earthy green, electric yellow, golden, and blue-black. Everything there vibrated with a living energy, as if the walls themselves were breathing.
At the center of the room, seven small pillars — one for each element — pulsed softly. They made no sound, but there was something about them that whispered, a kind of hum only the children seemed to hear. Some played with miniature whirlwinds. Others made droplets dance in the air like enchanted bubbles. And one little girl with golden eyes projected a glow that formed flowers on the floor.
Teacher Yana, who wore a necklace with small floating crystal spheres, walked among the little ones with a smile on her face.
— Today is a very special day, children — she said, adjusting the dress that looked as if it were made of breeze and petals. — We're going to have a rare visitor. A storyteller. But not of ordinary stories… not the kind we read in picture books. He's going to tell us the true origin of our world.
The chairs rustled. The little ones looked at each other with wide eyes. Some held their breath. Even those who had not yet gained full control of their elements felt a shift in the air.
Then, the door opened. Not all at once, but slowly. As if it respected the moment.
A staff struck the ground with a firm sound, and a man entered. Tall, with calm steps, white hair tied into a traditional bun, two braided strands falling over his shoulders. His robe was embroidered with threads of fire, sea waves, leaves, and lightning. But what drew the most attention were his eyes: gray, like winter mist, yet full of sleeping storms.
— Children — said Yana with reverence — welcome Master Shinraku.
He gave a slight bow, placing the staff before him.
— Little sparks of tomorrow — he said in a voice that seemed to come from the depths of the earth and the heights of the sky at once. — Today, I haven't come to teach techniques. I've come to share a story. A true story, as ancient as the wind, alive as fire, deep as shadow. A story that belongs to all of us, but which few remember with the heart.
The children adjusted themselves on their round seats. Silence settled. Even the crystals on the ceiling seemed to pause for an instant.
Shinraku closed his eyes.
— Two thousand years ago… the world was burning.
The phrase echoed through the room like a spell.
— And it was no metaphor. The sky was blood red. Waters boiled. Mountains wept lava. The earth cracked open in screams. Each people swore their element was the purest, the truest, the only truth. And to prove it… they destroyed.
The children sat frozen, fascinated.
— Fire set villages ablaze. Water swallowed entire kingdoms. Air birthed storms that tore the stars. Earth sank cities. Lightning struck down crowds. Light tried to impose harsh rules. And shadow… well… it whispered into wrong decisions. It was a time without order. Without truce. We call it the Hundred Years of Sundering.
He looked around. Some little ones bit their lips. Others clutched their knees.
— But amid the chaos… seven souls shone. From distant corners, from childhoods marked by tragedy and resistance, they emerged. The Seven Founders.
Shinraku raised the staff. Small fragments of light began spinning around the children, forming floating images.
— 🔥 Kael, of fire. A young man who survived the collapse of his own clan. He bore scars on his face and in his heart. He learned to master the flames that once burned him. He was intense, impulsive, but fair.
— 💧 Nami, of water. The last of the submerged priestly lineage. Her tears could heal. But she cried for those she couldn't save. She became the guardian of empathy.
— 🌬️ Aera, of air. Daughter of cliffs, she lived among birds and winds. She accepted no borders. She flew because she couldn't endure the rigidity of the earth. She had light laughter, but a heavy past.
— ⛰️ Torren, of earth. A warrior monk who never raised a hand unless necessary. Strong as stone, calm as moss. He carried within him the weight of the dead he could not bury.
— ⚡ Volt, of lightning. A mad inventor. He accidentally caused the fall of his own floating city. Since then, he sought redemption by creating life with the energy that once destroyed.
— 🌟 Lysa, of light. Raised in a strict temple, she believed justice was everything — until she saw that light could blind more than illuminate. She learned to use her essence to guide, not punish.
— 🌑 Noar, of shadow. No one knew where he came from. He was a wanderer who spoke little but saw much. While others wanted to conquer, he sought to understand. Because he knew: shadow exists only because there is light.
The staff turned, and the image changed: a magical clearing between mountains, with a tree of black branches and translucent roots.
— They met there. By chance? Maybe. Or perhaps the world whispered into their souls. In that sacred place — where the seven flows converged — they argued, fought, nearly destroyed one another. But something united them: the fear of losing everything.
— They decided to create something new. A pact.
— Three days and three nights. No sleep. No food. Channeling their essences into a single amber crystal. Pain was felt. Memories were sacrificed. Emotions were sealed. The Ritual of the Pact of Essalon. The beginning of harmony.
Shinraku paused for a moment, as if the next words asked permission from the room itself.
— There is a part of the legend… that not all maps record.
The children sat up silently, eyes alert.
— They say that when the Seven gathered to create Eltherion, something kept them from completing the Pact of Essalon. It wasn't strength. Nor knowledge. It was… misalignment.
— Each one carried an Essence so pure and strong… they repelled each other. Fire would not accept Water. Shadow feared Light. Air scattered Earth.
He paused, walking among the crystal columns.
— Until Kael, the Founder of Fire, did something unthinkable.
He took from his chest the Votive Flame — a living fragment of his own essence — and placed it upon a black stone.
And said:
— Here, where none of us reign… is where all of us may walk.
— Then Nami offered a drop of her ocean. Aera, a breath of her wind. Torren, a living stone. Volt, a contained bolt. Lysa, a tear of light. Noar… silence.
— And there, at the joining of opposites, Eltherion was born — the capital of the world.
A place where forces did not cancel each other — but supported one another.
Shinraku raised the staff, and a soft glow spread across the floor, projecting an ancient symbol: a circle divided into seven parts, with a dark, empty center.
— That center, children… does not represent absence.
It represents the Accord.
The space in-between.
What is unseen — but holds everything in place.
The image burst into golden light, and the little ones covered their eyes.
— And when they opened their eyes… Eltherion was born.
— And when they opened their eyes… Eltherion was born — Shinraku repeated, his voice now a solemn whisper.
But it didn't happen all at once. Eltherion did not appear out of nowhere, like a magic trick. It was built with hands, sweat, tears, and… essence.
The children were hypnotized as small floating sparks began to sketch, in the air of the room, the image of a city gradually emerging.
— Each Founder raised a part of the city using what they knew best — the master explained.
— ✨ Kael, lord of the flames, forged the central pillars and thermal foundations of the towers with molten rock. His fires weren't destructive — they were fires of life, of motion. He created the solar forges that still heat Eltherion without consuming wood or coal.
— 🌊 Nami shaped the underground canals and fountains that flow through the city. Eltherion's waters are alive — they carry healing essence, memory, and balance. She created the floating waterfalls that fall from nowhere and irrigate the hanging gardens.
— 🌬️ Aera brought the winds — not only those from the sky. She carved air pathways between the towers, letting the breeze circulate endlessly, cooling the temples and spreading magical aromas through the streets. She created aerial bridges made of current and wind, where one walks without touching the ground.
— ⛰️ Torren raised the walls and firm ground upon which Eltherion rests. The streets are alive — drawn with minerals that react to elemental energy. He planted the stone trees, which grow slowly, protecting the city's borders like sentinels.
— ⚡ Volt built the city's beating heart: the Essence Network, a web of invisible threads powering everything — lights, shields, transport. Using fragments of captured lightning, he created energy nodes that pulse beneath the feet of those who walk.
— 🌟 Lysa designed the temples, libraries, and judgment halls. She used her light to write the first laws of Essalon on the walls, in markings that glow only in the presence of truth. She created the mirrors of wisdom, which reveal not faces — but intentions.
— 🌑 Noar gave shape to the places no one wished to enter — the Galleries of Reflection, the Night Gardens, the Halls of Silence. Spaces where essence rests and reorders itself. He created the shadow portals, which open only to those who carry sincere remorse.
Shinraku looked up at the ceiling, as if seeing it all unfold once more.
— Eltherion is not just a city. It is a living organism. A living breath of the seven elements in harmony.
— And that is why, children… it exists only because, one day, seven voices silenced their differences — and spoke as one heart.
A girl timidly raised her hand:
— And… does it still breathe, Master?
Shinraku smiled.
— It does. But… it has been sleeping. And perhaps, just perhaps… it's waiting for someone to awaken it