The city no longer had even a single shadow of opposition to Elia.
Not a whisper in the alleys, nor a protest behind closed doors. Even the eyes that once watched him cautiously in the early days now lowered automatically when he passed.
His word had become an unwritten law.
He didn't need a whip… nor a sword.
He had given them something more important than fear: a source of food that didn't kill them while they tried to obtain it.
They were no longer forced to risk their lives outside the walls, no longer returning with severed limbs or carried on trembling shoulders. He gave them a safe, organized alternative one entirely under his control.
And so, heads bowed.
Some began to flatter him openly, their words dripping with false honey. Their laughter came too quickly, and their eyes searched for any sign of approval.
They wanted to be close to him.
To become his "assistants."
To gain an extra scrap of food… or influence… or protection.
Others simply surrendered.
They accepted their simple days as they were, trading obedience for survival. No ambition, no rebellion… just a short life they wanted to pass with as little pain as possible.
Inside Elia's room, away from prying eyes, the scene was entirely different.
A single candle burned slowly, melting his shadow on the wall into a coiled beast. Papers were scattered across the table intertwined lines, precise measurements, angles drawn with obsessive care.
He was drawing.
Plans for simple weapons primitive pistols, hand grenades, small cannons that could be pulled on two wheels.
He wasn't drawing out of nostalgia… but out of fear.
The fear of forgetting.
He tried repeatedly to recall more complex details precise mechanisms, operating systems, manufacturing materials… but his mind betrayed him. It was as if he had been cursed: the only things he could remember were those related to war and combat.
Nothing about modern agriculture.
Nothing about medicine.
Nothing about civil engineering.
Only… tools of killing.
He smiled bitterly and wrote down every detail in small, pressing letters, as if carving them into his memory by force.
"I won't forget… I won't let my memory betray me."
Then came the idea that unsettled him more than any blueprint.
"They're all stupid… incredibly stupid. They don't even know how to read."
He said it in a low voice, but it was charged with genuine contempt.
There wasn't a single book in the city.
In their vocabulary, there was no such thing as "education" unless you were a mage or belonged to a temple.
But… there were no temples here. Not anymore.
He exhaled slowly and closed his eyes.
"Then I'll write my own language."
The idea was bold… and dangerous.
He would plant a language from his own world among them.
He would teach it only to the children.
Children without established intellectual roots ones who could be shaped… reshaped… molded as he wished.
He would teach them discipline first.
Then leave them to learn on their own.
Maybe… just maybe… a genius would emerge among them.
Someone who could rediscover what he himself failed to remember.
Or at least become his soldiers in the future.
And so began his hardest mission.
On the first day, everyone followed him out of fear, not curiosity.
He stood in the square and drew the first letter on a wooden board.
Sharp lines. Rigid angles.
"This… is a sound."
They looked at him as if he were conjuring magic.
Some were confused.
Some laughed nervously.
Others simply stared, trying to understand.
The children were slower than he expected.
Their fingers were rough, unaccustomed to holding a pen. Their eyes watered from concentration.
But among the crowd… there were those who understood quickly.
A thin boy, his eyes gleaming with sharpness.
A silent girl, repeating the letter without making a single mistake.
And everyone who excelled… was rewarded.
An extra piece of food.
The privilege of sitting in the front row.
A look of approval.
Little by little, the motivation changed.
They no longer came out of fear… but out of desire.
They began to compete.
They practiced secretly at night.
And one week was enough for some of them to read simple words.
Their education wasn't complete yet.
But the seed had been planted.
As for Elia, his body refused to become just a teacher.
He found only narrow windows of time to train.
Sword movements at night.
Harsh exercises until his muscles trembled.
Sweat mixed with old blood in his palm.
"I won't rust…"
At the same time, he trained the hunting squad he had personally chosen.
He corrected their stances.
Struck their feet with a stick when they made mistakes.
Shouted: "Back straight! You hunt to live, not to be killed!"
They feared him… and respected him.
Days packed, heavy, merciless.
But somewhere far away… very far away…
Not everything was going as he believed.
Red land, with burned trees and cold air that stung the lungs.
A man in a dark cloak stood, staring into the emptiness before him.
"Sir… the place…"
His voice faltered, then he swallowed.
"I dare say… it's as if it never existed. As if someone… erased every trace of it."
The other turned slowly, his eyes narrowing.
"What do you mean 'the Temple of Ugliness was erased'?"
His voice was low… but beneath it lay a storm.
"The temple that raised generations of mages? That stood here for hundreds of years? You're telling me it… vanished? No stone, no engraving, no corpse?"
"Yes, sir. I swear it."
A third man stepped forward, laughing with nervous sarcasm.
"Relax, relax… it's not like they were going to welcome you with tea. If you went, they'd say: 'Oh, a stray wants to meet the great mages.'"
The first man looked at him with deadly coldness.
"Be silent, Marcus."
A heavy silence fell.
Then another spoke, his voice tight like a string on the verge of snapping:
"Do you know what the Master will say if we return without his shipment of slaves? Will he even believe that one of the most powerful temples on the continent… was simply erased?"
No one answered.
The roaming squad began to sweep the area.
They dug into the الأرض.
They overturned stones.
They searched for signs… for traces of rituals… for the scent of blood.
Nothing.
The place… was cleaner than it should be.
As if someone had washed existence itself.
They released their massive hounds enormous creatures, their fangs protruding, their wild yellow eyes gleaming.
They sniffed the ground.
Circled.
Howled.
Then… they stopped.
No trace.
No scent.
No life… and no death.
Their leader, Oliver, froze.
His jaw tightened so harshly that the sound of his teeth cracking could be heard.
"This is impossible…"
His voice came out like a growl.
"Even if the temple was burned, even if it collapsed… something should remain! At least one thing!"
But nothing remained.
Only silent الأرض…
And cold air…
And a heavy feeling that something incomprehensible had begun to move in this world.
"Damn it… damn it! We're finished if we don't bring him something this time!"
The man's voice was hoarse, filled with real panic not a feigned one.
He looked at the iron cages stretched behind them, stacked upon heavy wagons.
"All those cages… have become useless. Worse burdens! Burdens dragging us toward our doom!"
Iron screeched under the friction of wheels against stone.
And inside… creatures of different shapes struck the bars with their teeth, clawed at them with their nails, making sounds between howls and whimpers.
"How annoying you are…"
He sighed, then added sarcastically:
"Let's just go to that city. Give the old man some gold… and he'll gladly hand over his people."
A heavy silence fell.
Oliver turned slowly.
His movement wasn't fast, but it was enough for the anger in his eyes to intensify until it resembled a suppressed flame.
"If we don't find them either…"
He took one step toward him.
"Then know that you will be among the dead. Even if you are an important figure… even if you are close to the Master himself."
He moved closer, until their breaths nearly collided.
"Failure… its punishment is clear."
The man smiled a small, cold smile, then gave a slight bow.
"Understood, leader."
But his eyes were not submissive.
The caravans moved again.
Heavy wagons, massive cages bound with thick chains, inside them creatures from various races.
Some were human, their eyes extinguished.
Some were not entirely human creatures trying to imitate them but failing and all of them tried to break the iron with their teeth.
All of them failed.
They traveled beneath a clouded sky, the cold gnawing at their limbs.
Their destination… the city that no longer had a name… the city now called "Elia."
...
On a freezing night…
Selena lay on her bed, trying to breathe calmly.
But her breathing wasn't real breathing.
Not when she didn't possess a full lung.
Not when the air itself felt foreign in her chest.
Her breaths quickened against her will.
And the darkness… was no longer darkness.
It appeared before her.
That entity.
Its body… a mountain of piled corpses, human limbs protruding here and there, erased faces, mouths open in eternal screams.
Its hands were long, skeletal, as if created to embrace the world… or crush it.
A dense black cloak covered its face, revealing only one eye.
One eye… looking at all creatures with the same gaze.
Not cruel.
Not kind.
But… merciful in a terrifying way.
Just by its presence… she knew.
She knelt.
No one had asked her to.
But its existence was a truth greater than her ability to stand.
It spoke.
Its voice was calm… soft… like a breeze passing over a graveyard.
"You who endure… you who lived in the shadows in fear… and from oppression became powerless…"
Her limbs trembled.
"And you… whose mind did not change. Who preserved herself amidst the rot. Who wishes to protect her siblings…"
It drew closer, without moving.
"I have come to give you what you seek."
Her breathing grew sharper.
Drops of sweat fell despite the freezing cold.
"You who were abandoned by the gods. Who had the doors closed in your faces. Who were left behind like the remnants of a forgotten age…"
The ground beneath her feet seemed to stop.
"I… have come to save you in this continent."
The single eye shone with an indescribable gleam.
"And I have chosen you to be one of my emissaries in this world. I will grant you the secret… the secret of overwhelming power."
Her voice came out broken, but sincere.
"My lord… I will do whatever it takes. I will protect my siblings… I will free them from that wretch."
A brief silence.
Then it said, in a calm heavier than mountains:
"That mistake… forgot his place when he fled."
The air froze.
"He did not take my warning into consideration."
It did not name him… but she understood.
"What I will grant you… has a price."
She raised her head slightly.
"You must ignite the fire within yourself."
Her eyes widened.
"You will burn your entire body. You will burn… and live. Without anyone helping you."
Silence.
"If you manage to do that… you will gain the power that makes you the light your siblings see in the darkness."
The single eye drew closer until it filled her vision.
"Burn your entire being… for the sake of this world."
At that moment, Selena woke up suddenly.
Her chest rose and fell violently.
Sweat covered her body.
It was a dream…
No.
It wasn't a dream.
She knew.
That presence… was not an illusion.
Not a sick imagination.
She felt her body.
The long, fine strands that had been growing from her back… those that writhed like small protective entities…
They were gone.
Not cut.
Not burned.
But… extinguished.
As if its might had put them out with a single glance.
A test.
She understood.
If she wanted power… she had to truly burn herself.
Not symbolically.
Not metaphorically.
Burn her flesh.
Burn her skin.
And remain alive.
She smiled.
A trembling smile… but resolute.
"I will do it."
And on that very day…
Three people moved toward their fate.
One who wanted to wash people's minds… and plant his ideas within them to make them his soldiers forever.
One who wanted to preserve his life… even if the price was sacrificing others.
And finally… one who would literally burn herself… to become a light.