Dawn broke over Eldervale.
The golden beam that had descended upon the ancient apple tree faded slowly into the morning sky, but its presence had left an unmistakable mark upon the village.
The blossoms had not disappeared.
Every flower upon the tree still shimmered with a faint silver glow, despite the arrival of another ordinary morning.
The villagers gathered quietly around the courtyard.
Nobody spoke loudly.
Nobody laughed.
For the first time in generations…
Eldervale felt like a village waiting for an answer.
— The old Guardian stood beneath the blooming tree.
His weathered hand gently touched its ancient trunk.
The bark felt warm.
Alive.
He slowly closed his eyes.
Countless memories flooded his mind.
Three thousand years ago…
He had stood beneath another tree.
Larger.
Older.
Its branches had touched the heavens themselves.
The Tree of the First Dream.
This apple tree…
Carried the same heartbeat.
He opened his eyes.
“So the roots survived…” he whispered.
— The Traveler stepped beside him.
The crystal-like First Blade rested quietly in his hand.
Its transparent edge reflected neither sunlight nor shadow.
Instead…
It reflected memories.
Every few moments…
Ancient images flickered across the blade.
Cities floating among clouds.
Silver rivers flowing upward into the stars.
Children laughing beneath three moons.
The Traveler stared silently.
“This sword…” “…is showing me another world.” The old Guardian nodded.
“It isn’t another world.” “It’s the world…” “…before history forgot itself.” — Inside the little stone house…
Aarav slept peacefully after the strange events of the previous night.
His mother gently brushed his hair aside.
The silver mark upon his palm had disappeared once again.
Looking at him now…
No one would believe he was different.
He looked exactly like any ordinary child.
Peaceful.
Innocent.
Small.
His father smiled.
“Maybe everything is finally over.” The old midwife slowly looked toward the blooming tree outside.
“No…” she whispered.
“I think…” “It has only just begun.” — At the edge of the village…
The three Hunters silently entered Eldervale for the first time.
They wore no masks.
No cloaks.
To the villagers…
They appeared to be ordinary travelers.
Only the Traveler recognized them immediately.
His hand instinctively tightened around the First Blade.
The eldest Hunter slowly bowed.
“We come without hostility.” The old Guardian looked into his silver eyes.
“I know.” The Hunter smiled faintly.
“That sentence would have started a war a thousand years ago.” “It would have.” The Guardian admitted.
“But yesterday…” “Prophecy ended.” “And today…” “We decide for ourselves.” For the first time in recorded history…
Guardians and Hunters stood side by side.
Not as enemies.
But as allies.
— Far beyond the northern mountains…
Inside the Forgotten City…
The crimson eyes slowly disappeared into darkness once again.
The ancient prison had become strangely quiet.
Too quiet.
The cloaked stranger looked toward the fractured wall.
“I don’t understand.” “It stopped.” The shadow behind the wall no longer struggled against its chains.
No roars.
No whispers.
No movement.
Only silence.
The old Guardian’s expression became grim.
“It hasn’t stopped.” “It learned something.” “What?” The Guardian slowly turned toward the south.
“It realized…” “…force won’t open the Gate.” The cloaked stranger frowned.
“Then how will it escape?” The Guardian answered quietly.
“It will try…” “…to make the child open it willingly.” — At that exact moment…
Inside his peaceful sleep…
Aarav dreamed again.
Not of endless white fields.
Not of the silver-haired stranger.
This time…
He stood inside an ancient library.
The shelves stretched endlessly in every direction.
Books floated silently through the air.
Each carried a faint golden glow.
The child walked curiously between them.
Then…
One book fell gently from the sky.
It landed at his feet.
The cover held no title.
Only a single silver symbol.
The same symbol that had appeared upon his palm.
The book slowly opened by itself.
Its pages were blank.
Completely empty.
Then…
Letters began appearing one by one.
Not written by ink.
Written by light.
The first sentence slowly formed before the child’s eyes.
“Every Dream remembers its Dreamer…” Aarav reached toward the glowing page.
The moment his tiny fingers touched the words…
The entire library shook violently.
Somewhere deep within the endless shelves…
Something awakened.
A slow…
Heavy…
Footstep echoed through the darkness.
…Thud…
A second.
…Thud…
The child looked toward the endless corridor.
Someone…
Was walking toward him.
And this time…
It wasn’t the silver-haired stranger.
The footsteps continued.
…Thud…
…Thud…
They echoed through the endless library like the beating of an ancient heart.
Aarav stood silently, the glowing book still open in his tiny hands.
The golden letters shimmered across the blank pages before slowly fading into silver mist.
The child wasn’t afraid.
He simply watched the endless corridor stretching into darkness.
Someone…
Or something…
Was coming.
— Back in the waking world…
The afternoon sun bathed Eldervale in warm golden light.
The village slowly returned to its daily routine.
Children chased one another through the streets.
The blacksmith’s hammer rang steadily against glowing iron.
Women laughed while drawing water from the old stone well.
Life fought desperately to remain ordinary.
But the Traveler knew…
Ordinary days had ended.
— The old Guardian stood beneath the blooming apple tree.
His eyes remained closed.
He wasn’t sleeping.
He was listening.
Listening to the rhythm beneath the earth itself.
After several long moments…
He slowly opened his eyes.
“The roots are growing.” The Traveler frowned.
“What roots?” The old Guardian gently touched the ground with his wooden staff.
“The First Tree.” The Traveler looked around.
“There isn’t any tree beneath us.” The Guardian smiled sadly.
“Not one your eyes can see.” — Nearby…
The three Hunters quietly watched the conversation.
The youngest Hunter stepped closer.
“Our records mention the First Tree.” The old Guardian nodded.
“They’re incomplete.” The Hunter hesitated.
“We believed it died before the First Age ended.” “It did.” The Guardian replied.
“But dreams leave roots.” “And roots…” “…never stop searching for light.” Silence settled between them.
Every ancient order had protected only fragments of history.
No one possessed the complete truth anymore.
— Inside the endless library…
Aarav slowly closed the glowing book.
The footsteps stopped instantly.
The silence became almost overwhelming.
Then…
A voice echoed gently through the towering shelves.
“You’ve grown.” The child looked toward the darkness.
“I can’t see you.” The voice laughed softly.
“I know.” “It’s too early.” A warm breeze drifted through the endless library.
Thousands of floating books opened at once.
Golden pages turned by themselves.
The entire library filled with countless whispers.
Not frightening.
Not threatening.
They sounded like forgotten memories trying to remember their own names.
— Aarav took another tiny step forward.
“Who are you?” Silence answered.
Then…
A figure slowly emerged between the endless shelves.
Unlike the silver-haired stranger…
Unlike the Dream Walker…
This figure wore simple black robes.
No crown.
No weapon.
No glowing aura.
Its face remained hidden beneath a hood.
Only two gentle golden eyes shone from within the darkness.
The child tilted his head.
“Have we met?” The hooded figure remained motionless.
Finally…
It nodded.
“Many times.” The answer confused the child.
“I don’t remember.” “I know.” The figure replied.
“That’s why this life still belongs to you.” — Far away…
Deep beneath the Forgotten City…
The ancient prison suddenly became restless once more.
The crimson eyes opened.
Every chain rattled violently.
The black mist rushed toward the widening cracks.
The cloaked stranger stepped backward.
“It felt something.” The old Guardian looked toward the south.
His expression darkened.
“No…” “It sensed someone entering the Library.” The stranger frowned.
“What library?” The Guardian whispered only three words.
“The Library of Beginnings.” The color drained from the stranger’s face.
He had heard that name only once.
Every ancient civilization believed it was a myth.
A place where every destiny…
Every memory…
Every possibility…
Had been written before time itself began.
— Back inside the dream…
The hooded figure slowly raised one hand.
A single ancient key appeared above its palm.
It wasn’t made of gold.
Or silver.
It looked as though it had been carved from pure starlight.
The child reached toward it.
Just before his fingers touched the key…
The figure gently pulled its hand away.
“Not yet.” Aarav looked disappointed.
“When?” The figure smiled.
“When you stop asking who you were…” “…and begin deciding who you want to become.” The key dissolved into countless sparks of light.
The library began fading.
The dream was ending.
But just before everything disappeared…
The hooded figure spoke one final sentence.
A sentence that echoed long after the dream itself vanished.
“The First Gate does not need to be opened…” A brief silence followed.
Then…
“…It needs someone worthy enough to refuse opening it.” Aarav’s eyes opened.
The dream disappeared as though it had never existed.
Soft evening sunlight poured through the wooden window, painting golden patterns across the stone floor.
His mother smiled the moment she saw him awake.
“There you are…” She gently lifted him into her arms.
“You’ve been sleeping all afternoon.” Aarav looked around quietly.
The library…
The hooded figure…
The glowing key…
Everything already felt distant.
Like mist disappearing beneath the morning sun.
Yet one sentence refused to leave him.
“Who you choose to become…” The child couldn’t understand its meaning.
But somewhere deep inside his heart…
It remained.
— Outside…
The old Guardian stood facing the northern mountains.
The wind had changed.
It no longer carried the scent of pine or snow.
Instead…
It carried silence.
A silence so complete that even the birds refused to sing.
The Traveler slowly walked beside him.
“You felt it too.” The old Guardian nodded.
“The Library accepted him.” The Traveler tightened his grip around the First Blade.
“What does that mean?” “It means…” The old Guardian answered quietly, “…the child has taken his first step without realizing it.” — The eldest Hunter approached.
His silver eyes remained fixed on the distant horizon.
“Our scouts have returned.” The Traveler looked at him.
“What did they find?” The Hunter hesitated.
Then spoke slowly.
“Nothing.” The Traveler frowned.
“Nothing?” “The forests are empty.” “The rivers are empty.” “The mountain passes are empty.” “There isn’t a single beast left.” Silence followed.
The old Guardian’s face hardened.
“They’ve fled.” The Hunter nodded.
“Every living creature is abandoning the northern mountains.” — Miles away…
A lone white wolf stood upon a frozen cliff.
It stared toward Eldervale.
Its golden eyes shimmered with unusual intelligence.
For several moments…
It remained completely still.
Then…
It bowed its head.
Not toward the village.
Toward the child sleeping within it.
Without another sound…
The wolf disappeared into the forest.
Hidden among the shadows…
Dozens more glowing eyes followed.
None belonged to predators hunting prey.
They belonged to ancient guardians answering an unseen call.
— Deep beneath the Forgotten City…
A crack spread across the ancient prison.
Not large.
Barely wider than a strand of hair.
But it was enough.
From within the darkness…
A single thread of black mist escaped.
It drifted upward without urgency.
Without force.
Like smoke carried by the wind.
The cloaked stranger drew his sword.
“We have to stop it!” The old Guardian raised a hand.
“No.” The stranger stared in disbelief.
“It escaped!” The Guardian never looked away from the drifting mist.
“No…” “That…” “…isn’t an escape.” “It’s a message.” — The black mist rose higher…
Passing through stone.
Passing through mountains.
Passing through rivers.
Nothing could stop it.
Hours later…
It reached the sky above Eldervale.
No one in the village noticed.
Except one child.
Aarav suddenly looked upward.
His bright blue eyes followed something invisible moving across the heavens.
His mother smiled.
“What are you looking at?” The child quietly pointed toward the empty sky.
“Bird.” She looked up.
There was nothing there.
She kissed his forehead.
“I don’t see one.” Aarav remained silent.
Because what he saw…
Wasn’t a bird.
The black mist slowly twisted…
Taking the shape of enormous wings before dissolving into the clouds once again.
— Far beyond the world of men…
Within a palace built from living starlight…
Seven ancient thrones stood in a perfect circle.
Six were occupied.
One remained empty.
For thousands of years…
No one had dared to sit upon it.
Suddenly…
The empty throne emitted a faint silver glow.
Every figure in the chamber turned toward it.
One of them spoke.
“The Heir has entered the Library.” Another slowly nodded.
“And the Sleeper has begun moving.” A third figure tightened its grip upon a staff carved from crystal.
“We no longer have time.” Silence filled the chamber.
Finally…
The oldest among them rose from his throne.
His voice echoed through the endless palace.
“Summon every Keeper.” “Seal every remaining Gate.” “And…” He paused.
Looking toward the glowing empty throne.
“…find the child before the Sleeper reaches him.” At that very moment…
The silver light surrounding the empty throne pulsed once.
Then a single word appeared across its surface.
Not carved.
Not written.
It simply existed.
Aarav.
The name remained upon the empty throne.
Aarav.
Not carved into stone.
Not written by light.
It simply existed, as if the throne itself had remembered someone it had been waiting for since the beginning of time.
The seven Keepers stared at it in complete silence.
No one moved.
No one dared to speak.
Finally, the eldest Keeper broke the silence.
“So…” “The Throne has chosen.” A younger Keeper slowly shook his head.
“No.” “It hasn’t chosen.” “It has recognized.” Those words echoed through the Hall of Stars like an ancient judgment.
— Thousands of miles away…
The First Blade suddenly vibrated.
The Traveler immediately drew the crystal sword.
Its transparent edge glowed with silver flames.
Ancient symbols appeared one after another across its surface.
Unlike before…
The symbols were no longer memories.
They were warnings.
The old Guardian looked at the blade only once.
His expression immediately darkened.
“It has begun.” The Traveler frowned.
“What has?” Instead of answering…
The old Guardian slowly looked toward the western forest.
“Listen.” At first…
The Traveler heard nothing.
Then…
Very faintly…
The sound reached him.
Hoofbeats.
Hundreds of them.
No…
Thousands.
— The ground beneath Eldervale began trembling.
The villagers stepped out of their homes in confusion.
Children stopped playing.
The blacksmith lowered his hammer.
Even the birds flew from the rooftops.
The trembling became stronger.
Dust rose along the western road.
Something enormous was approaching.
— The Hunters immediately drew their weapons.
The Traveler lifted the First Blade.
The old Guardian remained completely calm.
“They’re early.” The eldest Hunter looked at him.
“Who?” The old Guardian answered quietly.
“The Wild Court.” — Moments later…
The forest opened.
Not with an army.
With animals.
Hundreds…
Then thousands…
Of creatures emerged from the trees.
Great wolves.
White stags.
Black panthers.
Golden foxes.
Massive bears.
Snow leopards.
Eagles circled overhead while smaller birds filled the sky like living clouds.
Yet not a single creature showed hostility.
They walked in complete silence.
Their eyes remained fixed upon only one place.
The little stone house where Aarav lived.
— The villagers stood frozen.
No one had ever witnessed such a sight.
A little girl accidentally dropped a basket of apples.
The nearest wolf walked toward it.
Instead of attacking…
It gently picked up a fallen apple with its mouth.
Placed it back into the basket.
Then continued walking.
Fear slowly gave way to disbelief.
These weren’t wild beasts.
They were…
Paying respect.
— Inside the house…
Aarav suddenly smiled.
He stretched out his tiny hand toward the open window.
Without hesitation…
A small white bird flew inside.
It landed softly upon his finger.
The child giggled.
The bird bowed its tiny head.
Then another entered.
Then another.
Within seconds…
The room filled with birds of every color.
Not one made a sound.
They simply surrounded the child as though greeting a long-lost friend.
His mother stared in amazement.
His father couldn’t even speak.
The old midwife quietly whispered, “The world remembers him…” “…even if he doesn’t remember himself.” — Outside…
Every animal in the village suddenly stopped.
They formed a perfect circle around the house.
The Traveler had never seen anything like it.
The eldest Hunter slowly lowered his sword.
“They aren’t protecting him…” “They’re waiting.” The old Guardian nodded.
“They’ve come to witness.” “Witness what?” The Guardian didn’t answer immediately.
Instead…
He looked toward the sky.
The clouds had disappeared.
One by one…
The stars became visible.
Despite it still being daylight.
The Traveler followed his gaze.
His breathing stopped.
The stars…
Were moving.
Not across the heavens.
Toward Eldervale.
Like countless eyes turning to watch a single moment.
The old Guardian spoke so softly that only the Traveler could hear him.
“For three thousand years…” “The heavens have waited.” “And tonight…” “They will ask the child…” “…his first question.”