In a quiet village nestled at the edge of the great forest, far from the ruins of the fallen kingdom, the night was gentle. The moon hung like a silver lantern in the sky, spilling soft light over the thatched rooftops. Crickets sang their steady song, and the warm glow of a single oil lamp flickered inside a small wooden house.
Within, a mother sat at the bedside of her young daughter. The child's eyes were heavy with sleep, but still wide enough to drink in her mother's words. The room smelled faintly of burning wood from the hearth and the sweet, earthy scent of dried herbs strung along the beams.
The mother's voice was calm, steady, and low—the kind of tone that carried warmth as much as meaning. She brushed a strand of hair from her daughter's face and began.
"Long ago," she whispered, "when the world was drowning in sorrow, the land was withering. Darkness had spread and the people were losing hope. But in those days, five heroes rose."
Her daughter blinked slowly, already fighting sleep, but listening intently.
"They were not ordinary men," the mother continued. "Each bore a strength beyond men. Felip, who could soar like a crow, swift and watchful from the skies. Elio, whose lightning stung like the wrath of the storm. Javi, whose heart flowed like water, deep and wise, always guiding his people. Pablo, who guarded all beneath him with the steadfastness of the earth and King Stell, the one who carried both the light… and the darkness of the soul."
The child shifted, curling closer to her blanket. The mother smiled softly.
"They fought until their bodies could no longer endure. And when the battle was at its end, they gave the last of their strength to the world itself. Together, they planted the seed of the Tree of Life, and with their sacrifice, it bloomed. Its roots reached deep, its branches reached high, and from its leaves came hope. The land was healed… and the people lived."
For a moment, only silence lingered. The crackle of the oil lamp, the distant hum of cicadas.
The mother leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss on her daughter's forehead. "And so, little one, the five heroes rest. They sleep, waiting for the day when they are needed again."
Her daughter's breathing grew slow and steady. She was fast asleep, a faint smile still on her lips. The mother tugged the blanket snugly around her small frame, then rose, stepping quietly across the creaky floorboards.
She paused by the window, where the moonlight poured in like silver threads. Her gaze drifted upward, and her voice, now quiet and trembling with something unspoken, slipped into the night.
"I really hope… that they will come back."
The wind stirred the trees outside, carrying her wish away into the darkness.
---
Far beyond the village, in the heart of the collapsed kingdom, silence reigned. The ruins of once-proud towers lay broken, swallowed by creeping vines. And in the very center, where the palace once stood, a great tree rose toward the heavens—the Tree of Life.
Its roots had cracked through marble floors, its branches stretched like arms to the stars. Encircling its vast trunk stood five human statues, carved as though frozen in their final act of prayer. Their faces were solemn, their postures strong.
Then—
Crack.
A sound split the night.
One of the statues, the one standing nearest the Tree's glowing heart, showed a hairline fracture across its chest.
Little by little, cracks began to spread across the stone figure. Hairline fractures glowed faintly in the moonlight until—
BANG!
The stone shell shattered into dust, scattering across the roots of the great tree.
And there, standing where the statue once was, a human gasped for breath. His chest rose and fell, his lungs straining as though it had been an eternity since he last breathed.
He opened his eyes. Confusion swirled in them as he whispered, voice hoarse:
"Where… am I?"
Slowly, he lifted his trembling hands, touched his face, and stared at them as if they weren't his own. His gaze darted around the ruins encircling the tree.
Shock coursed through him.
'I was just… on the couch. Watching the new episode of Encantadia… I fell asleep. So why—why the hell am I here?'
Before he could make sense of it, pain erupted in his skull like fire. He clutched his head, knees slamming against the ground as a flood of memories poured into him foreign, yet his own.
Minutes dragged on. Finally, as the agony ebbed, he fell onto his back and stared up at the moonlit sky, dazed.
"This… is bullshit," he muttered, breathless.
The memories burned inside him, undeniable. He was Stell Silvaron, once a prince and became the newly crowned King of Eldrinor. But on the day he inherited the throne, an entity cursed him and withered the Tree of Life. A doppelganger, his darker self rose from that curse, stealing his face and chaining him inside a mirror. The kingdom collapsed under chaos, and the land withered.
Yet, there was more. He remembered standing beside four others, sworn heroes, when they restored the Tree of Life… before his fate turned to stone.
And now… I'm free?
KLANG!
The sharp crash startled him. His head snapped toward the sound.
A girl stood nearby, frozen in shock. A porcelain vase lay shattered at her feet, water pooling across the stone floor.
Her eyes were wide, locked onto him.