I would like to blend my sorrow and grief
Into a single word,
And cast that word into the wind,
So the wind may carry it far away...
— L.A. Mey
Standing beneath the lush branches of a thick-trunked tree, steeped in the aura of antiquity, the man couldn't help but frown as the cries of a woman suffering the pangs of childbirth echoed from the ceremonial tent. Though he had been present many times before at the births of the children of kings and emperors entrusted to his care, this feeling was entirely new. Those other women had meant nothing to him; their lives or deaths held no particular significance for this world, just like the lives or deaths of their children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. Century after century, the struggle for power in this world would never cease. It didn't matter who the players were. Besides, most living beings in this world multiplied as readily as they died, often without even knowing what for.
No, this time was different. This time, the one suffering in labor was his beloved, struggling to give life to their children. He had known there were two of them from the very moment their life essence had formed enough to send a faint response to his inquiry, conveyed through energy. Even in the womb, they already possessed the gift of the Great Guardian of this world, which meant one thing for certain: the fruits of their forbidden love were extraordinarily powerful. Children conceived by fate through the union of two individuals from conflicting clans, representatives of different kinds of higher beings—dragons and phoenixes. They, being complete opposites, maintained the balance of this world, preventing either side from gaining the upper hand, which would mean the end of all existence.
"Brother?.." The address made the man startle, his mind wholly focused on the tent where a life-and-death battle was unfolding. "I truly didn't think I'd actually find you here. It is most unexpected that you are the traitor who decided to place himself above all of us."
"Alomar," the man sighed, closing his eyes. "Please, I don't want to hurt my precious younger brother..."
"Hah, you? Hurt me? You overestimate yourself, Daerid." No sooner were the words spoken than the two shot into the sky, simultaneously shifting the form of their beings. Scales like impenetrable armor gleamed in the light of fiery flashes erupting from the massive maws of the two monsters. Wingbeats raised winds with the force of a hurricane's epicenter, and neither opponent yielded to the other. Long claws and razor-sharp teeth, spikes on tails, and, of course, fire—everything was put to use. The fury of this battle between godlike beings would have shattered the mind of any outside observer.
Trees in this once peaceful place were uprooted or toppled. Fires raged here and there; pillars of furious flame shot up toward the terrifying figures in the sky. Yet, despite this, everything in the immediate vicinity of the tent remained untouched, surrealistically suspended in a static state, like an illusion in a sea of fire.
Meanwhile, accompanied by a faint flash, several figures silently appeared near the tent.
"Oh, it seems Alomar arrived a little earlier than us and has already made a mess."
"Yes, it won't be easy for him now. Daerid is nearly equal in strength to the Elder."
"Him? Pff, I doubt it. But it's better not to interfere. Let's deal with the main task and be done with it. Daerid isn't our problem. We cannot allow his offspring to survive."
Silently agreeing, they merged their spiritual energy, making the air crackle with electrical discharges, and directed a concentrated beam toward the tent. The woman, teetering on the very edge of existence, giving the last of her life force to her little ones, sharply turned her head toward the danger and let out a pitiful whimper.
No, not now. How did this happen? We foresaw this place was safe... The woman's body flared with a bright light from the thoughts exploding in her head.
She knew their love was forbidden. But when the seeds of their love suddenly sprouted—something that had never happened before—she had naively allowed herself to think that, despite everything, the Guardian would not hinder them, and they could know happiness. Oh, how fleeting it had been, and how terribly mistaken she was to believe it could last.
"Daerid..." was all she could manage to whisper hoarsely as pain once again pierced her spiritual and physical body.
Despite the fervor of the fight, one of the dragons fiercely shoved his opponent aside, spun around in a sharp maneuver, and dove down, shielding the tent in the last seconds from the needle-concentrated spiritual force united by several clansmen. Even in this form, where a dragon's powers were multiplied manifold, a blow of such strength inflicted severe damage; a stream of crimson blood flowed from his maw.
"Step aside, traitor! We are here on the Elder's orders," one of the newcomers said in a hoarse voice.
"The advantage is ours, Daerid, brother. You are acting unwisely," another echoed.
"Begone!" He opened his jaws to bathe his recent brothers in righteous fire, but a furious blow struck him from above.
"You are not worthy to be our brother!" Alomar cried, sinking his claws into his opponent's scales, sending sparks flying. "I... I trusted you most of all. I hoped you would become the next Elder. But you betrayed me cruelly. You betrayed us, your clan! Cease your attempts to protect Lady Vivian. She is so wretched that even the Peacock Clan exiled her in disgrace. Your union is forbidden. By the Guardian's decree, we must destroy it to save Epimetheus. Your offspring has no future!"
"You are mistaken. The threat to Epimetheus comes not from us, but from the Blight!"
At that moment, a noise erupted as if the earth had split open, and an immense entity, like an ancient curse, descended upon the land, seemingly capable of blotting out the sky itself. A dragon with scales the color of rare amber loomed over the other two like a mountain.
"Daerid."
"Elder."
Alomar hastily shifted aside, his tail raising columns of smoke from the burning trees nearby.
"My brother, you have broken the ancient vow given by our ancestors to the Sacred Guardian. Also, according to the received revelation, the Guardian foretold the approach of the end of all existence if the root cause is not destroyed. For your sin—concealment and disruption of the energy balance entrusted to us in this world—you and the Phoenix Maiden must sacrifice your... Your two? Ha, this is interesting. Much to my regret, I hasten to congratulate you on the twins."
"I need no congratulations from you. The balance was broken since the First War, and who should know that better than you? Or do you think cleansing a few half-breeds made the Blight just disappear? Brothers, open your eyes! The Blight is attacking the roots, seizing more and more parts of our Sacred World," Daerid growled angrily, shaking his head menacingly. "The Spirits of Ancient Trees and Grasses are dying while the Guardian sends all of you after me and Vivian. Can you not see the obvious? He is infected too!"
Hearing such disrespectful insolence from a former clansman, Alomar growled viciously and was about to charge into battle again, but catching the Elder's glance out of the corner of his eye, he slightly lowered his gaze, though he didn't stop growling. The other clansmen preferred to watch from a safe distance. If the Elder himself had come, it was best not to get under his claws; everyone knew that.
"Would you even have the spirit to challenge me now?" the Elder spoke, ignoring the tirade, with an air of icy softness, extending his claws. "Who knows, perhaps as the head of one of the most powerful clans, you could have requested an audience with the Guardian of Balance himself? Hmm, or maybe even dealt with him?"
"If you think—"
Then the unexpected happened. The moment the Maiden Vivian gave birth to the final twin, the flow of her inner force, hidden under the seal of her form—a force she could no longer control or restrain—illuminated the entire area with a flash like the radiance of a hundred stars. Daerid slipped out of his body, leaving it as an empty shell filled with a part of his power, and dashed into the tent.
The scene before him was, of course, shocking—everything was drenched in blood. Two newborn infants were pressed to the chest of the beautiful woman who appeared to have breathed her last. He rushed to the bed, tears streaming from eyes that had never known this feeling before. All Daerid could do was kiss his beloved's cheek, carefully lifting her head with his hand, watching as the last colors of life faded from her body to the loud cries of their children.
In his mind, like a sad autumn song, a voice whispered:
I cannot stay with you, my love. Forgive me. But I can try to help save our little ones. Please, stabilize and guide the force I will now release through the prism of my body. I know you can.
Suddenly, the stiffening body, losing all vital hues, opened its eyes. It seemed that in those eyes surged the all-consuming fire of the underworld—the most ancient and wild fire, originating from the primordial chaos of this world. In an instant, it spread throughout her body, enveloping the two infants yet causing them no harm. Understanding there was no other choice, burning his hands where the skin immediately blistered and burst, exposing charred flesh, he grasped the hand of this immensely powerful woman and began to pour his strength into her, merging it with the stream of released force—forces as different as darkness and light. He poured all his remaining power into this act, so much so that outside the tent, his empty copy shattered, furiously flying to meet the fangs of their clan's Elder.
It was as if a heavenly Hand descended upon the place where they were, streaming with an unseen light, blinding the observers. If anyone could have glimpsed anything, they would have seen a silhouette soaring up the pillar of light into the boundless heavens, through space impenetrable to the eye, gracefully rising and taking the form of a wondrous bird.
At that same moment, somewhere on the edge of this universe, in a great palace seemingly made of starlight, a dark figure abruptly rose from its throne, dropping a scepter carved with intricate mystical symbols, sending a thin metallic sound rippling through the lavishly decorated hall.
"It seems the Blight has indeed reached Epimetheus. Oh, he will be most displeased. Nocturna, go there immediately and investigate everything."
A small shadow slid from the back of the chair and, flashing green eyes, dissolving into a haze, replied:
"As you wish, my Lady."