The world was vast.
Five continents stretched beneath the sky, each shaped by its own history, its own culture, its own strength. They lived separated, yet connected, like pieces of a fragile balance.
To the northeast, Ravtael, land of bright plains and military traditions, where noble families forged their heirs from childhood.
Farther away, Ignyra, a burning kingdom where warriors were born from heat and raw strength.
To the west, Nereva, continent of calm tides and refined great cities, where words carried as much weight as blades.
To the south, Volkarion, swept by storms, unpredictable and vibrating with constant energy.
And finally, Ashara, a vast expanse of golden dunes, ancient and silent, where everything seemed to hold a hidden meaning.
These lands had coexisted for generations.
They traded, exchanged, observed each other.
A structured world.
A stable world.
A peaceful world…
And beyond the known sea routes, beyond carefully drawn maps…
there were whispers of another territory.
A sixth continent.
A place no one ever truly described.
But those were only rumors.
Stories told to children.
Nothing real.
—
The wind of Ravtael carried a deceptive softness.
It glided over the plains like a caress, made the tall grass ripple in silent waves, and gave the morning light an almost unreal glow. Everything seemed calm. Stable. Still.A peaceful world.
A lie.
Raven Don Lightning, barely fifteen years old, sat on the outer fence of the family estate, his legs slowly swinging in the void. His fingers absentmindedly played with a dull training blade,
spinning it without thinking.
In the distance, soldiers were training.
Sharp impacts. Metal against metal. Barked orders.
— Are you planning to spend your whole life daydreaming?
The voice was sharp. Familiar.
Raven didn't even turn around.
— I'm thinking.
— You think too much.
Darius Lightning, twenty-two, approached, standing straight like a spear, his silhouette cut by the sunlight. The eldest. The perfect heir. Every movement precise, every gaze
controlled.
— On a battlefield, that hesitation will get you killed.
A laugh echoed behind them.
— Or worse, it'll make him hesitate like an idiot.
Kaïn Lightning, nineteen, had just arrived, hands in his pockets, a cocky smile on his face.
Raven sighed, then slightly smirked.
— And you, Kaïn, it'll get you killed because you can't stop running your mouth.
— Yeah, but at least I'd die looking cool.
— More like stupid.
A silence.
Then the three brothers burst out laughing.
That kind of laughter. Simple. Honest.
The kind that disappears without warning.
Further away, Lyra Lightning, sixteen, was training alone.Her blade whistled through the air with surgical precision. Every movement was fluid, almost elegant. Their mother, Elena Vaelis Lightning, forty-two, watched from a distance, arms crossed, her gaze both proud and strict.
And at the center of it all…
Arcturus Lightning, forty-eight.
Motionless.
He was speaking with two officers, but even from afar, his presence crushed the space around him. Commander. Warrior. A man standing straight in a crooked world.
Raven looked at him for a moment.
Then looked away.
— You should train more, Darius said without looking at him.
— You should think more, Raven replied.
— Thinking is useless if you don't have strength behind it.
— And strength is useless if you're too stupid to use it.
Kaïn laughed.
— He got you there.
Darius didn't respond. He simply stared at Raven for a few seconds.
— The world doesn't reward intelligence, he said calmly. It rewards strength.
Raven shrugged.
— Then the world is broken.
A silence settled.
A real one.
Not the silence of laughter.
The silence of truths no one wants to hear.
—
Later that evening, deep within the continent of Ravtael, in the cold heights of the Vortigern palace…
Duke Kael Vortigern, fifty-four years old, watched the night through a vast glass window.Behind him stood his daughter, Lyssandra Vortigern, eighteen, perfectly still.
— Everything is ready? the Duke asked.
— Yes, father.
Her voice was calm. Too calm.
— The Lightning family accepted the invitation.
A faint smile curved the Duke's lips.
A smile without warmth.
— Perfect.
Lyssandra said nothing.
She knew.
Everyone knew.
But no one said anything.
—
The next day, a messenger arrived.
And with him…
the end of everythin