The White Lily village had taken on the air of a refuge from the outside world.
In the large, central clearing, long wooden tables groaned under the weight of warm bread, steaming stews, and jars of fruity wine. Lanterns cast a golden light that danced across joyful faces.
The harvest had been good. So had sales.
For once, famine and fear had given way to celebration.
They owed it all to Elijah.
Four years earlier, when the soldiers of the Tower struck, the village was devastated. Elijah lost his parents, his siblings, and his former life. On that same day, Yann, his childhood friend, was torn from his family and taken away by the Marshals after suddenly awakening a rare elemental power.
Since then, the village had been emptied and ruined by wars and famine.
Yet Elijah had risen again.
Thanks to his hard work, the fields blossomed again, fishing resumed, and trade reopened a door to hope. He had literally revived the village.
So tonight, the villagers wanted to thank him.
"Raise your glasses to Elijah!" Uncle Joe thundered, his voice vibrating with emotion.
"Without him, the White Lily would have died a thousand times!"
"To Elijah!" the villagers replied in unison.
Elijah felt his cheeks flush. A sincere smile spread across his lips.
"Thank you, truly. You already give me everything, I need to see you happy. That's the only reward that matters."
"Oh, come on, hero!" Daniel joked. "Tonight, we're going to dance, sing, and drink until we drop! Let's party, everyone!"
Laughter erupted, and the musicians picked up their instruments again.The villagers let themselves be absorbed by the warmth of the celebration.They did not see the shadow looming at the edge of the clearing.
Yann was there.
Even his parents, the first to notice, could not believe their eyes. The young man stood motionless with his arms crossed and his jaw clenched. He radiated cold anger that was almost palpable, like a winter breeze.
Then, with a sudden gesture, he unleashed his power.
A sharp wind tore through the square.
The lanterns flickered.
The flames almost went out.
The music stopped abruptly.
Conversations froze.
Yann's mother brought a trembling hand to her mouth.
"Yann...? My son... Is it really you?"
He took a step forward. His dark eyes shone with a hard glint.
"May I ask what's going on here?"
His father, still incredulous, stepped forward.
"We organized a party in Elijah's honor. Do you remember? You were best friends before..."
A bitter smile twisted Yann's lips.
"A party for him? For a mere grain merchant? When will I deign to return to this miserable place?"
A shiver ran through the crowd.
"Son!" his father exclaimed indignantly. "You're exaggerating! You were a peasant, too. You fished and plowed..."
"SHUT UP," Yann cut him off. "And don't ever compare me to those people again."
His eyes swept over the assembly with disgust.
"Do you even know who I have become? I associate with nobles. With the powerful. I have been honored by the heiress of the Han, the sublime Nüwa. And you dare to ignore me?"
A shocked murmur rippled through the village square.Daniel stepped forward, his gaze hard.
"Yann, we're happy for you. Sincerely. But Elijah saved us. Without him, we would be dead. We are peasants, and we're proud of it. You have no right to despise us."
Yann sneered and laughed coldly.
"Proud? In that case, prove it." He opened his arms."Kneel before me. Acknowledge my superiority. Then I promise you a better life. No more misery."
The villagers recoiled in disgust.
Old Mary stood up, frail but upright.
"We don't need you here, get out" she said."Leave while you still have some honor left."
"Who do you think you are, you crazy old woman?" growled Uncle Joe. "This kid deserves a beating.."
Yann turned to him slowly.
"Lower your eyes when you speak to me."
With a simple wave of his hand, he summoned an invisible gust of wind. Joe was thrown backward, crashing violently into a pile of wood.
Screams erupted. Mothers grabbed their children. Chaos threatened to break out.
Daniel lunged forward, ready to strike, but a strong hand stopped him. It was Yann's father, his shoulders shaking with tears.
"Yann... How could you?" They're our people! This village is your family..."
Silence fell.
"I have no family here.You are nothing to me. Nothing."
Elijah stepped forward, his fists clenched, but calm.
"Why did you come back, Yann? No one called you. If you despise us so much, then leave. We will not bow down. Ever."
A cruel smile stretched across Yann's lips.
"Do you think they admire you, Elijah? You're nothing but an insect. If I wanted to, I could reduce this village to ashes. I'd watch you crawl in the mud."
His mother spoke, her voice breaking.
"Yann, you'd better leave."
The young man froze, as if struck.
"What did you say?"
"You are no longer the boy I raised.
You have become like them. Like the men of the Tower. Leave and don't come back until you've found your heart again."
Yann trembled with rage.
"Are you rejecting me? For him? That dick !!"
Elijah made one last attempt.
"Yann, Stop, just leave already. Before we..."
"You shut up! This is all your fault"
His eyes twisted with hatred.
"I will have my revenge, Elijah. You will be the first to bend the knee. All the others will follow."
Then, he turned on his heel.
"You will be proud of me, Father. I promise you that."
Without looking back, he left the village.
The celebration, once so lively, fell silent behind him.
A heavy silence fell over the village after Yann left. His parents, overcome with shame, hastened to apologize, heads bowed and voices broken. Little by little, a few timid laughs resurfaced and a few clumsy songs were attempted, but the atmosphere was no longer the same.
Something had been irreparably broken.
Elijah remained in the background, sitting on a wooden beam with his elbows on his knees.
The evening wind slipped between the trees, cool and bitter, as if whispering a truth he did not want to hear.
A shadow grew within him.
A cold, still, heavy foreboding.
What had just happened was not a simple quarrel. It was the beginning of something else. Something bigger, something darker like a bad omen.
He didn't know whether this intuition stemmed from Yann's threats or the disturbing stories circulating about the Blue Rose village witch. The two memories mingled like two black clouds about to meet.
Far from the White Lily, in the icy heights where the air was thin and the peaks were shrouded in mist, another world was stirring. The great annual gathering had begun.
Beneath the colossal vaulted ceiling of the Jade Palace, torches flickered like hesitant flames, unable to dispel the tension permeating the air completely.
Nobles bustled about; advisors whispered; and generals waited for orders with stony faces. In her inner chambers, Nüwa collapsed onto a silk cushion.
Her hands, usually so steady, trembled.
She tried to hold back a sob, but to no avail.
The door slid open softly.
A luminous figure entered, moving with an almost supernatural grace.
Senna. Her blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders like a golden torrent. Her gray eyes, usually as calm as a winter sky, were tinged with concern.
She crouched down in front of Nüwa and gently placed a warm hand on her shoulder.
"I knew I would find you here," she whispered.
Nüwa lifted her tear-stained face.
"Senna...They're going to launch a manhunt. Do you understand? Innocent people will die just to satisfy the marshals' pride"
Senna shook her head slowly, almost tenderly.
Her silk veils fluttered in a light breeze.
"If there must be a hunt, then we will protect those who have done nothing wrong.There will be no massacre. Not while we can still act."
"But how?" Nüwa sobbed. "I'm confined here. Watched. "So are you. And our parents won't listen to us. They won't listen to anyone."
Senna took her hand and squeezed it gently, contrasting with the gravity of her words.
"Tomorrow, I'm going to the villages to distribute bread. It's my job; they can't take that away from me."
She paused.
"While I'm there, I'll pass on a message. Discreetly. I'll give it to a villager, who will give it to another. And so on. An invisible chain."
Nüwa's eyes widened.
"You want to warn everyone to avoid using magic?"
"Yes, just for a few days. Just long enough for the soldiers to find nothing. After all, they're convinced that the villagers have no powers, or only insignificant ones. If they keep a low profile, there won't be any unnecessary deaths."
Nüwa squeezed her hand tighter, overcome with emotion.
"Senna, would you risk everything for them? If your mother finds out..."
Senna smiled faintly but determinedly.
"Don't worry. I've already thought everything through."
A tender silence enveloped them.
They were two sisters at heart, two princesses imprisoned by their titles but united by the same fragile hope.
"Thank you," whispered Nüwa, her voice trembling as she placed Senna's hand against her heart.
Beyond the walls and far below, history began to unfold. At dawn, the drums of war shattered the peace of the imperial city. The pale morning light reflected off the dark steel of a marching column of soldiers. Their armor echoed like the rumbling of a storm. At the head of the column rode Barton Reiz, the austere figure of the Marshal, on a black steed.
His face was as impassive as a stone door.
Passersby stood aside, silent and pale-faced.
No one dared cheer. No one dared to breathe too loudly. A rumor spread through the alleys:
Barton was heading for the Black Forest.
No one ever came back alive.
The news traveled faster than horses, even reaching the manor schools where young nobles were trained. In the marble corridors, people whispered, In the dormitories, they speculated. On the training grounds, swords clashed nervously. In a dark room, a group of students stood around a table.
In the center was Yann.
The candlesticks' flames cast fierce shadows on his face. He still hadn't gotten over the humiliation of the previous day. A twisted smile stretched across his lips when the rumor became certain.
"You understand what this means, don't you?" he whispered in a low, venomous voice.
"Lists will be drawn up. Innocent people will be suspected. Names will be added or removed according to the whims of those in power.
Another nervous student interrupted him.
"What are you getting at?"
Yann clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
"I'm talking about opportunity. Elijah. That wretch! That bastard who dared to make me lose face."
He leaned toward them, a dark gleam in his eyes.
"I'm going to make him disappear. When that's done, everything his village owes me will come back to me. Everything. Even his glory."
An icy silence fell.
Some smiled.
Others paled.
But evil had already taken root.
Meanwhile, far from the intrigue, Elijah worked under the scorching sun. His scythe glided steadily through the wheat. His soaked shirt clung to his skin. Daniel, his faithful companion, chattered away to ease the fatigue.
"If you keep this up, you'll beat the village elders' record!" he said with a laugh.
A little further away, Uncle Joe, still sore from his fall the day before, raised his arm.
"Don't forget the distribution ! The nuns at the Tower of the Virgin never wait!"
But Elijah, absorbed in his work, had not noticed the passing of time.
The villagers abandoned their tasks and headed for the square. White silhouettes then appeared, advancing with an almost sacred solemnity. The nuns with Immaculate veils.
Wicker baskets full of warm loaves.
Their stares were strict and almost cold.
Daniel rushed over to the mother superior.
"Please," he said respectfully. "My friend Elijah didn't come. He's still working. May I take his loaf for him?"
The nun stared at him sternly.
"Bread is not offered to those who turn their backs on the blessing. Go back to your place, child."
Daniel persisted, but the Mother Superior turned abruptly when a soft yet firm voice spoke up behind her.
Senna had just stepped forward.
Her white, gold-embroidered veils caught the light as if she were carrying a piece of the sky with her. A light breeze made the golden threads adorning her dress quiver. The villagers held their breath. Never before had a miss of such noble lineage involved herself in trivial matters.
"I will take do it," she said in a clear voice.
"Just show me the way."
The silence that followed was so deep that the wind could be heard rustling through the tall grass.
The mother superior opened her mouth to protest, but Senna did not give her the chance.
She lifted the immaculate hem of her dress, clutched the bread to her chest, and set off through the mud. Her steps were graceful, even in haste. The villagers instinctively stepped aside, astonished to see such a luminous being running among them.
Even Daniel was speechless.
In the field next door, Elijah straightened a sheaf when he saw a white-and-gold figure running toward him. He frowned, certain he was dreaming.
"What the...?"
Senna arrived in front of him, panting. A strand of blonde hair clung to her rosy cheek. Her trembling breath accentuated the softness of her gaze.
"You're Elijah, aren't you?" she asked, her voice as soft as a caress.
He slowly rose to his feet, his body still covered in wheat dust. His worried gaze slid behind her as he searched for possible witnesses.
"What is a noblewoman like you doing here?
Is there a problem in the village?"
She shook her head. But her gaze was trembling.
"Nothing serious. Not yet," she said.
"But I had to see you. I had to warn you."
So, in the middle of the golden, rain-drenched field, she spoke. She told him about the secret meeting, the agitation of the Marshals, the rumor of a prophecy, and the manhunt ordered to find mythical entities.
Elijah's world suddenly cracked.
"What... Are... are you serious !?"
The bread almost fell from his hands because his fingers were shaking so much.
"I would never have taken such a risk if it weren't true," Senna replied. "You must spread the word, no magic, no spell. Everyone must keep it down. That will be enough to avoid a massacre."
He swallowed hard.
"All right. All right. After you leave, I'll warn the whole village and the neighboring villages."
But a dark uneasiness came over him. He felt as if he were standing on the edge of an invisible abyss.
"But why you? You're the daughter of Dame Maria, the virgin Tower leader. Why help people like us?"
She took a deep breath and met his gaze with heart-wrenching sincerity.
"Because the Tower has blood on its hands. Too many innocent people have been sacrificed, and I refuse to let it happen again.
If I can save even one family, then I have to try."
Elijah's heart tightened. He whispered,
"This prophecy... What exactly does it say?"
"It speaks of the seven entities that will cause the world's downfall if they come together."
A sharp crack sounded behind her. Senna did not have time to finish her sentence. A shadow swooped down. Completely, brutally.
A slap tore through the air.
Senna's head jerked violently to one side. Her veil crumpled and her cheek turned bright red.
"Insolent!" the mother superior spat, her face contorted with anger."You dare disobey orders to hang out with a lout?"
Elijah stood frozen and stunned, his face gradually hardening.
The nun pointed an accusing finger at him.
"And you! How dare you lay eyes on a girl of her rank? Do you think you can seduce an heiress of the Tower with your peasant face?
It is a sin that not even the gods will forgive!"
He opened his mouth to reply, but two nuns grabbed Senna by the arms and pulled her away roughly. Roughly. Despite her status, they did so without delicacy.
"Let her go!" Elijah shouted.
"Shut up!" the nun barked.
Senna turned her head despite the pain.
Her eyes locked with his.They were full of pleading and imploring, a last fragile bridge before she was torn away from him.
Then, they dragged her away, her white veil rustling as she moved. Daniel arrived at that moment, still laughing at a joke he had just made.
"Well, well! You didn't keep your princess for very long..."
He stopped short.
Elijah's gaze was no longer lighthearted.
It was serious, tense, and almost somber.
It was the gaze of a man who had just caught a glimpse of the edge of the abyss.
Elijah placed a hand on Daniel's shoulder.
"Listen to me. This is serious, the Marshals are launching a manhunt. They're looking for entities linked to a prophecy"
Daniel's eyes widened.
"What's all this nonsense?"
"We have to warn everyone. And quickly."
Daniel nodded slowly, knowing that nothing would ever be the same again.
At the same time, far away, the Virgin Tower was bathed in an ominous gloom. Yann walked quickly through the corridors, his boots clattering on the smooth stone.
An evil, almost feverish excitement animated his face. Arriving in front of the council guards, he bowed deeply.
"I have information about one of the entities in the prophecy," he declared, feigning trembling humility. In the White Lily village, they are protecting a young man. No one knows where he comes from. But he matches the rumors."
The founding elders exchanged heavy glances.
"Give us a description," ordered one of them.
Yann complied, a cruel smile hidden in his voice.
"He's about six feet tall. Tanned skin, black eyes, Dreadlocks. He arrived recently, the villagers are covering for him. If you don't hurry, he'll flee before the knights arrive."
A silence fell over the room.
The kind of silence that heralds tragedy.
And Yann was already savoring his revenge.