The road to Linga wound through valleys of violet flowers and rivers that glowed faintly under the moonlight. Towering hills parted like curtains as Sid, Sapphire, and Zinga followed the old stone path toward the city of light and legacy. Above them, the sky stretched wide and silent, stars blinking down like curious gods.
And then they saw it.
Linga.
Carved into the cliffside, crowned with crystal spires, Linga shimmered like a dream half-remembered. Waterfalls danced from its terraces. Floating lanterns hovered above its towers. The city hummed with magic, invention, and song—a place where warriors trained beside spellweavers, and knowledge flowed like wine.
Sid squinted. "Bit flashy."
Sapphire gasped, eyes sparkling. "It's glorious! I read about it in the Elven Academy journals. The Citadel of Fire and Flow, the Tower of Singing Swords, the Sky Arena—wait, is that a floating bakery?!"
"Yes," Zinga grunted. "Don't eat the croissants. They talk back."
As they passed through the silver gates, lined with ancient runes and guarded by armored warriors with glowing spears, something strange happened.
People bowed.
Not to Zinga.
Not to Sapphire.
But to Sid.
It started with a murmur: "The boy from the prophecy..." Then a crowd gathered, whispering, gasping, kneeling.
"The shadow-child who walks toward fate."
"The one who'll slay the Demon King."
"The boy who defeated a pumpkin with his mind."
Sid, used to being feared or ignored, was stunned. Sapphire beamed. Zinga rolled his eyes.
For the first time, Sid felt something close to belonging.
They were given rooms in the Hall of Echoing Flame, a fortress-like academy where warriors were trained in both sword and sorcery. Sid was assigned a tutor in arcane combat, a goblin monk named Master Tikk, who made him levitate anvils with his eyebrows.
Sapphire studied under the Grand Nature Mage, finally learning to walk through the woods without tripping (mostly).
Zinga disappeared into the forges, crafting Sid's sword with ancient rites, humming songs known only to stone and fire.
And then there was Hermi.
Tall, bronze-skinned, with curly black hair and a laugh that made even Sid smirk—Hermi was a warrior-in-training who took one look at Sid and decided they were best friends.
"You look like someone who desperately needs someone to talk to," Hermi had said, flopping beside him at dinner.
"I look like someone who could bury your soul in a jar," Sid replied.
"Exactly! You're my kind of guy."
Hermi was loyal, fast with a blade, and even faster with bad jokes. He sparred with Sid, taught him the Linga style of dual-blade flow, and snuck pastries from the sentient bakery just to share them under the stars.
For a while, things were good.
Until Veiger came.
It began with thunder.
The skies over Linga blackened. Wind howled like banshees. A bolt of obsidian lightning split the central tower of the academy.
And from the smoke stepped a man clad in armor darker than regret.
Veiger. The Fifth Commander of the Demon King.
His helm was twisted, sharp, crowned with horns. His blade was jagged and pulsing with black-red runes. The air around him bled shadows. His voice echoed like a thousand screams crushed into one.
"Bring me the child."
Alarms rang. Guards swarmed. Archmages flung spells.
Veiger sliced them like paper.
Sid, Hermi, and Sapphire stood atop the Sky Arena when Veiger landed with the force of a meteor. The stone beneath him cracked. The light around him died.
"You think you are chosen?" Veiger hissed at Sid. "You are a lamb dressed as wolfskin."
"I'm a nightmare wearing eyeliner," Sid shot back, raising his half-forged blade.
And the battle began.
Steel clashed. Magic burst. The sky split open with every blow.
Sapphire summoned vines to bind Veiger. He burned through them like they were silk.
Sid fought hard—too hard—channeling all the shadow, all the pain, all the fury inside him. He moved faster than light, struck harder than flame.
But it wasn't enough.
Veiger was stronger. Older. Colder.
Then came the moment.
Sid fell to one knee.
And Hermi stepped in.
"Not today," Hermi growled, blades drawn, eyes fierce.
He fought with everything. Speed. Grace. Rage.
But Veiger was death itself.
With one swing, he decapitated Hermi.
The world went still.
Sid screamed. Not a human scream. Not a child's cry.
A curse escaped his throat.
He rose, bleeding, broken, but full of pure, burning darkness.
And still—Veiger won.
He struck Sid down. Drove him into the ground. The boy's blood soaked the sacred stone. Sapphire screamed his name.
Veiger raised his sword.
And that's when he arrived.
A flash of light. A whistle of air.
Then silence.
Veiger's blade stopped mid-air.
A figure stood behind him. Calm. Precise. Unbelievably fast.
Finch.
The greatest swordsman of Linga. Barefoot, half-smiling, his hair silver as moonlight, his blade a streak of light still humming from the swing.
Veiger didn't even realize he'd been cut.
Then he fell. Dead. Split clean through.
Finch didn't speak. He simply knelt beside Sid and placed a hand over his chest.
"Not today, kid," he whispered. "You're not done yet."
And the shadows, for once, obeyed.
End of Chapter ChCree.Thant Wonue with Chapter Four where Sid recovers, swears vengeance, and beg