The stars burned cold and quiet above the world.
The rivers sang softly to the stones.
The winds carried the laughter of children through the fields.
The scars of the old war were hidden now,
buried under life and time.
And in a small village on the edge of the world,
an old woman sat under a broken tree.
Arin.
Her hair, once gold as dawn, was now silver as ash.
Her hands, once strong enough to lift mountains, trembled with every breath.
But her eyes…
Her eyes still burned.
With memory.
With promise.
With light.
Around her, life blossomed.
Fields of wheat.
Streams of clear water.
Children chasing each other barefoot across the grass.
She smiled.
Not with pride.
Not with triumph.
With peace.
Glory had endured.
The world had endured.
The dream had endured.
Few remembered the wars now.
Few remembered the Abyss King.
Most believed the simple songs.
The Hero of Light.
The Slayer of Darkness.
But none knew the truth.
None but her.
At her side knelt a child.
No armor.
No crown.
Just wide eyes full of hope.
Arin placed a trembling hand on the child's head.
And spoke the words that had shaped her whole life.
"You are not here to rule.
You are here to protect.
You are not here to be praised.
You are here to carry.
You are not here to be remembered.
You are here to remember."
The child nodded solemnly.
Accepted the broken sword Arin placed in their small hands.
The last piece of a shattered history.
A seed planted in ash.
A promise carried forward.
The winds shifted.
The stars whispered.
And Arin felt her body grow heavier.
Her breath thinner.
Her heart slower.
She knew her time had come.
Slowly, she rose to her feet —
one last time —
and walked beyond the village,
into the silent fields.
There, under a broken tree and a sky full of distant stars,
a simple stone waited.
Her secret.
Her burden.
Her truth.
She knelt before the unmarked shrine.
Ran a trembling hand across the carved name.
Kai.
She closed her eyes.
And whispered:
"I kept my promise.
I carried your dream.
I carried your name.
I carried your hope.
And now…
I pass it on.
You're not forgotten.
Not while I breathe.
Not while the stars burn."
Her voice faded into the night.
A soft breath carried by the wind.
And as she lay down beside the stone,
as her final breath slipped into the dark,
she smiled.
Because dreams do not die.
Not truly.
Not when someone carries them forward.
Not when someone whispers their name into the stars.
And somewhere, in the newborn future,
under the watchful eyes of the heavens,
a new protector rose.
Carrying a sword.
Carrying a burden.
Carrying a dream born in ashes.
The dream of a forgotten boy who chose to save a world that hated him.
The dream of Kai.
The first light of the Abyss.
The true king.