For nearly a thousand years, the dark races have nearly conquered every continent in the world.
Yet in the west, one land remains untouched: Velmora. On this continent stands the Kingdom of Morven, the heart of humanity's power for centuries. It is divided into four major cities: Central Morven (the capital), West Morven, Carlnder, and Ferlmore. In the more remote northern regions lie three quiet villages: Valiri, Iaelren, and Vetheven.
For the past five years, a boy from the village of Valiri—Alfair Elarion—has been dreaming the same dream over and over.
Night after night, in the stillness of deep sleep, he is cast into a strange world that feels all too real. He is always a baby—helpless, small, stiff, unable to move or speak—but his mind remains conscious. He can only see, feel, and remember.
He lies in a crib beside another infant. The other child's face is always blurry, unrecognizable, no matter how many times he sees it. Around them is chaos—shouting, distant explosions, walls shaking as if time and space are collapsing. The air is thick with smoke and a fear so strong it sticks to the skin.
Suddenly, the door bursts open.
A woman rushes in, breathless. Her face pale, her eyes full of both terror and resolve. She runs to the crib and grabs the two babies, trying to escape.
But before she can even take a step—
A shadow appears.
Massive, shapeless, its presence warping the air itself. Glowing red eyes fixate on them with piercing intensity. The world freezes.
A chill creeps down Alfair's spine, even within his tiny, unmoving body.
And each time—at that exact moment—Alfair wakes up.
Gasping, drenched in cold sweat, heart racing as if still trapped inside the nightmare.
He doesn't know who the other baby is.
He doesn't know who the woman was.
He doesn't know what that shadowy figure was.
But he knows one thing—it wasn't just a dream.
It was a memory—unfinished.
"Hehh... huhff…" Alfair panted, clutching his head. "Again… that dream again…" he muttered softly. He rose from bed, stepped outside, and sat on a large rock in front of his home—waiting for the sunrise, as always.
"I don't understand... why does it keep coming back every single night..." he whispered, hugging his knees. He stared at his right palm, then clenched it tightly. "Who is that dark figure…?"
He looked at his left hand, where a warm light gently glowed from his skin. "Who is the other baby... and… who is the woman?!"
"Dreaming about it again, Alfie?" came a familiar voice from the doorway.
Alfair jumped. "Huh?! Oh… yeah, Grandpa. I had that dream again," he replied wearily.
Balia walked over and sat beside him. "You know, Alfie… sometimes, the things we forget most deeply return through dreams—as if trying to remind us of something important."
"So you think… it's not just a dream?" Alfair asked, eyes filled with uncertainty.
Balia sighed. "Well… I can't say for sure. It could be a message… or just a nightmare. But never ignore the feeling it leaves behind."
A moment of silence passed between them. Then Alfair looked up at his grandfather, hesitant.
"Grandpa… who am I?"
"Huh? What do you mean, Alfie? You're my grandson, of course." Balia smiled, gently ruffling Alfair's hair.
"I know… but that's not what I meant." Alfair looked into his grandfather's eyes, serious now. "Why... why do I have both these elements inside me?"
He raised his left hand, a soft light glowing from it—then his right, where a dark aura pulsed.
"Alfie… listen, my boy. That power is within you because you're special," Balia answered calmly, his eyes warm and full of conviction.
"But why me…? I can accept this light… but the darkness…"
Before he could finish, Balia interrupted, "No matter what it is—light or dark—they are both parts of you. You didn't choose them. They chose you. And maybe… that's because you're meant for something greater. Accept them both—as you accept yourself."
Alfair didn't reply. He simply lowered his head, letting his grandfather's words echo in silence.
The sun began to rise. Its first rays lit the treetops still blanketed in dew, reflecting off the surface of the gently flowing river.
As if the world had no idea that darkness was watching… waiting.
"So beautiful…" Alfair whispered, eyes fixed on the changing sky.
Balia stood up and patted his shoulder. "Come on, Alfie... time to catch some fish for breakfast."
"But I still want to sit here, Grandpa…"
Balia grinned. "In that case, no training for you today…"
Alfair groaned. "Alright, alright… fine…" he said, getting up reluctantly.
They walked toward the nearby river. The morning air was crisp, and the sound of flowing water filled the silence.
A few minutes later, Alfair cheered, "Got one! Looks tasty roasted!"
He proudly held up his catch. "Grandpa, look! Not bad, right?!"
Balia revealed a much larger fish. "Well, Alfie?! You'll never beat your old grandpa! Hahaha!"
Alfair pouted. "Just watch—I'll catch something bigger… and more of them!"
"Pfftt… go ahead and try," Balia teased, laughing.
An hour passed. Alfair caught four decent-sized fish. Meanwhile, Balia… effortlessly netted ten large ones.
Alfair scowled. "Ugh… it's like the fish are avoiding me and running straight to you, Grandpa…"
"If you keep pouting like that, your fish might lose their flavor," he joked, pointing at Alfair's catch. "So? What should we do with all this?"
"Let's grill them. I'll cook the rice," Alfair said as he walked back into the house.
Balia summoned dried roots from the earth, lighting them with ease. "Fire's ready... now for the spices."
With a flick of his fingers, herbs and vegetables sprouted from the ground: chili, tomatoes, lemon, onions—all blooming instantly.
From the window, Alfair watched in awe.
"Grandpa's abilities… are seriously useful," he thought.
Soon, the food was ready. The aroma of smoke and spice filled the small house as they enjoyed their fresh catch.
"Alfie, once we finish eating, it's training time," Balia mumbled with his mouth full.
"Ugh, Grandpa… chew first, then talk," Alfair replied while sipping his drink.
"You're one to talk, hahaha…"
After they finished eating, Alfair stood and grabbed his wooden sword. "Let's go, Grandpa. I'm ready!" he said with enthusiasm. "We're doing sword training today, right?"
"Yeah. Today you'll learn to wield the blade. Use your full strength when facing me..." Balia said, his gaze sharpening.
"Don't worry… I'll hold back," he added with a sly smile.
Alfair gulped. "This old man… it's like he's trying to kill me," he muttered, then assumed a fighting stance.