Morning came slowly to Hougwe Village, seeping gently through the gaps between the leaves and brushing softly against rooftops still draped in dew. Golden sunlight streamed through the windows of the orphanage, falling gently upon the wooden floors, which were at last beginning to warm after a long, cold night wrapped in darkness.
Usually, morning was Silvia's favorite time of day. At this hour, the air always felt alive and full of color. The sound of children's footsteps running here and there filled the space, mixed with Alice's bright laughter—laughter that seemed to light up every corner of the room. There was Thomas, who always found some reason to make a little mischief, and Alex, who almost every morning had to be woken again and again, never able to get up on time. And then there was Edward…
Edward, who was usually the first to rise, helping Mrs. Selner prepare breakfast with a quiet smile on his face.
But this morning felt different. There was something faint in the air, as if a thin mist had settled over what was usually so bright and cheerful.
Silvia stood near the kitchen door, holding a basket of laundry she planned to take out to the yard. Without even realizing it, her eyes drifted toward the dark-haired boy sitting alone on the front porch.
Edward.
He sat perfectly still, staring straight ahead at the empty yard before him. Quiet—far too quiet for a ten-year-old. The morning breeze brushed gently through his hair, yet he did not move an inch. Even when Alice ran past him laughing, his eyes did not so much as blink, as if his mind had drifted far away, to some place no one else could follow.
Silvia frowned.
"Strange…" she murmured softly.
She had noticed this change over the past few days. At first, it was so subtle it was almost invisible—just a slightly longer pause when he spoke, or a smile that faded a little too quickly. But as time passed, it became harder and harder to ignore. Dark circles had begun to appear faintly beneath his eyes, his face was paler than usual, and what troubled Silvia most was the look in his eyes. It was the gaze of someone carrying a burden far too heavy—far heavier than any child his age should ever have to bear.
Silvia watched him a moment longer, and slowly a vague sense of unease settled in her chest—something she could not quite put into words. It was the same feeling she had known years ago, when she was still a little girl herself and had to face the pain of losing someone she loved deeply. It was a quiet, unspoken warning that things were beginning to turn in a wrong direction.
"Please don't…" she whispered, almost too quietly to hear, unaware that she had even spoken aloud.
From the kitchen, Mrs. Selner turned and looked at her with a questioning expression.
"What did you say, Silvia?"
Silvia jumped slightly, as if waking from a dream.
"Ah—nothing, Mother. Just talking to myself."
But her heart beat softly, and her instinct—so rarely wrong—whispered loudly within her. Edward was hiding something.
Breakfast passed just as it always did. The long dining table was filled with the sound of children's voices and laughter. Thomas and Alex were playfully fighting over the last slice of bread, while Serly sat quietly reading a book beside her plate. Alice chattered excitedly about the yellow flower she had found by the roadside earlier that morning. The atmosphere was warm, warm like the home that had sheltered them all for so long.
Yet Silvia's eyes kept returning to Edward. The bowl of soup before him was barely touched, even though he was usually the one who asked for seconds more often than anyone else.
Alice tilted her head, looking at him with concern.
"Brother Edward?"
Edward blinked, as if only just realizing he was being spoken to.
"Hm? What is it, Alice?"
"Are you feeling sick? You look so pale."
Edward smiled—a smile that appeared too quickly, as if forced.
"No, I'm fine, really."
Alice looked at him suspiciously.
"But you've only eaten three spoonfuls. Usually you eat more than anyone."
Thomas immediately chimed in loudly.
"That's right! I saw it too!"
Alex nodded in agreement.
"Yeah, Brother Edward usually eats more than I do!"
"That is nothing to be proud of, Alex," Serly said with a small huff.
Everyone laughed—everyone except Silvia.
Because she had seen something the others had not. When Edward smiled just now, it had only reached his lips. It had never touched his eyes.
Thomas tried to lighten the mood with a joke.
"Maybe Brother Edward is in love, huh?"
"Huh?!"
Edward nearly choked on his drink. Alice's eyes went wide with surprise.
"In love? With who?"
Alex even stood up from his chair.
"Yeah, who is it? We have to know!"
Serly tapped Thomas lightly on the head with her book.
"Stop talking nonsense, Thomas."
"Ow, that hurt!"
The children laughed again. Normally, Edward would have joined in, laughing freely with them. But this time, he only pulled the corners of his mouth up just a little, then lowered his head and fell silent once more.
And it was this that filled Silvia's heart with even greater worry. Even their favorite jokes were no longer enough to lift the weight that was so clearly visible on Edward's face.
After breakfast, Edward moved to help clear the table and wash the dishes, just as he did every single day. From the outside, he looked exactly as he always had. But Silvia, watching from a distance, could see the difference.
Edward worked steadily: sweeping the floor, carrying boxes of supplies, helping the younger children reach things on high shelves, and smiling whenever someone spoke to him. Yet every time he thought no one was looking, his expression would change instantly. The smile would vanish, and that distant, empty look would return to his eyes—as if something was constantly turning over and over in his mind, gnawing away at him from within.
Silvia clenched her hands gently.
"What is really happening to you, Edward?" she asked silently in her heart.
She wanted so badly to ask him. More than anything. But every time she thought of stepping closer and speaking to him, she knew exactly what he would say: "I'm fine." And Silvia knew all too well that it would be nothing but a lie.
Slowly, noon drew near. The sun climbed higher, casting warm light over the orphanage grounds. Edward sat alone beneath the great tree at the back—the same tree where he and Alice often sat together to read.
Silvia watched him from the parlor window. Alone again. This was not the first time. Over the past few weeks, Edward had been spending more and more time by himself. He still joined in with the others, still smiled, still helped whenever he could, yet somehow there was a distance slowly growing between him and everyone else. A distance that could not be closed just by stepping closer—something far deeper, hidden behind that distant look in his eyes.
Silvia bit her lip gently. And for the first time, a small but sharp fear stirred in her heart. What if, one day… Edward went somewhere no one could follow?
Later that afternoon, Edward stood behind the kitchen helping to wash the lunch dishes. Cold water flowed slowly from the tap, running over his hands. He tried to focus on his work, trying to push away all the thoughts that kept swirling in his head: the burning city, the figure in silver robes, the name Equilibris, the voice of Destrover, the pendant around his neck, and that old voice he had once heard. There was too much. Far too much for one person to carry alone.
Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through the back of his head.
"Ugh…"
Edward doubled over, pressing his hands hard against his temples. The world around him seemed to spin, his vision blurred, and the sounds of everything else grew faint and distant. He gritted his teeth, trying to hold back the pain.
Not now. Please, not now.
But the ache only grew sharper. At the same time, he felt a warmth slowly spreading from beneath his shirt—from the pendant. At first it was just warm, but then it began to grow hotter, rising steadily in temperature. Edward held his breath, swaying unsteadily and nearly falling.
"Edward?"
Silvia's voice came from behind him. With every ounce of strength he had, Edward straightened up quickly, doing his best to hide the pain and his expression. He turned around, forcing his voice to sound steady.
"I'm fine!"
Silvia stopped in her tracks, looking at him with a sharp yet caring gaze. She held his eyes for a long moment—far too long for comfort—until Edward felt his heart beginning to race.
"Are you sure?" Silvia asked softly.
"Of course."
"You look as though you're about to faint."
Edward gave a short laugh, but even he knew it sounded hollow and false.
"You're exaggerating, Silvia."
Silvia stepped closer, near enough to see the beads of cold sweat on his forehead, and the way his hands still trembled ever so slightly, even as he tried to hide it.
"Edward," she said gently but firmly. "You can tell me anything, you know."
Edward looked down at the water in the basin before him. His chest felt heavy. There was so much he wanted to say: about the voices he often heard in his head, about the strange visions, about Destrover, and the fear that he might not be an ordinary boy at all. But not a single word would come. He was afraid of burdening Silvia, afraid of seeing fear in her eyes, and most of all, afraid of losing the only family he had left.
And so he only smiled—the hardest, most forced smile he had ever given.
"I'm fine, Silvia."
A brief silence fell between them. Silvia looked deeply into his eyes, then slowly nodded.
"Very well… if you say so."
But as she turned and walked away, her heart felt heavier than ever. She knew Edward had just lied. And what hurt most of all… was that she did not know how to help him.
That afternoon, the sky above Hougwe Village unfolded into a soft, golden expanse. The slanting rays of the sun brushed the green hilltops behind the orphanage, while a gentle breeze swept through, bringing cool relief after the day's heat. From a distance came the sound of children laughing and shouting as they played, breaking the quiet of the countryside.
But Edward was not among them.
He stood alone in a small training ground at the edge of the village—a place rarely visited by anyone except those who came to practice.
Sweat already beaded his forehead and temples, trickling down to dampen his shirt. His breath came in ragged gasps, yet his feet kept moving, following the dirt path that circled the field.
One lap.
Two laps.
Ten laps.
Fifteen laps.
He ran on, his pace quickening as time passed. It was as though he were chasing something just beyond the horizon—or perhaps… trying to leave something far behind him.
"I have to go faster…" he murmured, struggling to steady his breathing.
"I have to become stronger…"
Inside his mind, voices and images swirled endlessly. There was the cold, distant tone of Destrover, the faint whispers that seemed to rise from the pendant around his neck, and that strange word that kept repeating—heir. There were visions of cities engulfed in flame, skies turning blood-red, and the faces of people lying still and lifeless. It all felt so vivid, so heavy to bear.
Edward gritted his teeth and pushed himself to run even harder.
When exhaustion nearly made his legs give way, he paused for a moment. Then he picked up an old wooden practice bow—the kind the orphanage children usually used for play. With hands that still trembled slightly, he nocked an arrow, drew the string until it was taut, aimed at the straw target at the far end of the field, and let go.
Thwack!
The arrow sailed wide, landing in the grass long before it reached its mark.
Edward did not complain, nor did he show any sign of disappointment. He simply walked to retrieve the arrow and tried again. And again. Over and over, until the sun began to sink low and their shadows stretched long across the ground. Still, he did not stop.
Beneath the spreading branches of an old tree at the edge of the field, Silvia stood watching in silence. She had been observing Edward for some time, never interrupting. At first, she had assumed he was simply practicing as he sometimes did. But the longer she watched, the clearer it became that something was different.
This was not just training.
Edward was not trying to improve his skills. He was trying to escape—escape from his own thoughts, from the burden he carried all by himself.
Silvia gripped the hem of her shirt tightly, her chest tightening at the sight.
"You don't have to carry everything alone…" she whispered so softly the wind nearly carried it away. But the distance between them was too great, and Edward was too wrapped up in his own world to hear.
An hour later, Edward switched to using a long wooden staff. He swung it with all his strength, moving in rhythm with the beat that played only in his head. Thrusting forward, striking sideways, sweeping upward—again and again, without pause.
Thud!
Thud!
Thud!
The sound of wood striking the air echoed through the quiet afternoon. His palms grew red, hot, and stinging, yet he paid it no mind. Sweat continued to fall and soak the earth, his breathing grew heavier and more labored, and his body began to feel weak, nearly losing its balance. Still, he forced himself to keep moving. One swing after another, until at last—
Thump!
He stumbled, his knees hitting the ground hard. The wooden staff slipped from his grasp and rolled away. Edward gasped for air, his chest heaving violently. The world around him seemed to spin, his vision blurring and growing dim.
"Edward!"
Silvia's voice came quickly as she ran over and knelt beside him.
"What are you doing to yourself?!" she asked, her tone a mix of worry and sharpness.
Edward tried to push himself up, but Silvia gently yet firmly held his shoulders back.
"You nearly fainted—look at you!"
"I'm fine," Edward replied shortly, trying to convince himself as much as her.
"You are clearly not fine!"
Edward turned his face away, trying to hide his expression. But Silvia had already seen it—his palms were red and raw, covered in scrapes, with traces of dried blood staining the skin. Seeing it made her heart ache as if squeezed tight.
Silvia carefully took his hand.
"Stop this," she said softly but firmly.
Edward tried to pull his hand away, but Silvia did not let go.
"You're hurt."
"It's just a scratch," Edward said quietly.
"Just a scratch?" Silvia lifted his hand a little higher so he could see it clearly. "If Alice had done this to herself, you would have scolded her endlessly."
Edward fell silent. He could not argue with her words.
Silvia pulled a clean cloth from her pocket and began to tend to his wounds with gentle, careful movements—as if handling something very fragile. This kindness—so warm and full of care, exactly like an older sister tending to her younger brother—only made Edward's chest feel heavier. He knew he had made Silvia worry again.
A little while later, they sat side by side at the edge of the field. The sun slowly dipped behind the hills, painting the sky in brilliant shades of orange and deep gold. Silvia broke the heavy silence.
"You don't have to push yourself this hard, Edward."
Edward stared at the ground before him, unable to meet her eyes.
"I have to become stronger," he answered softly but firmly.
Silvia let out a long breath. "Strong enough for what?"
The answer came quickly, as if it had been held deep inside him for a long time.
"Strong enough to protect everyone."
"Edward—"
"I mean it," he cut in, his voice sharper than usual.
Silvia fell quiet, surprised by his tone. Even Edward seemed taken aback by his own reaction, but the words were already spoken. He clenched his fists tightly.
"If something terrible happens again…" his voice grew faint, almost a whisper. "…I don't want to just stand there and watch."
Silvia looked at him for a long moment. And for the first time, she saw what Edward had been hiding behind his often-forced smiles and distant gaze.
Fear. A deep, overwhelming fear.
"I understand how you feel," Silvia said gently.
"No," Edward shook his head slightly. "You don't."
Silvia said nothing.
"You are strong," Edward continued quietly. "You can fight. You can protect the people you care about."
But I…
He did not finish the sentence, yet the meaning hung plainly in the air. Silvia understood. And it was this very thought that made her heart ache even more. For Edward did not realize one important truth: the person she wanted most to protect, the one she worried about more than anyone else, was Edward himself.
Silence stretched between them, until Edward spoke again. His voice was barely more than a whisper, carried away by the breeze.
"All of this is happening because of me."
Silvia lifted her head sharply, her eyes wide with shock. "What?"
Edward gave a small, hollow laugh—empty and sad.
"If I had never existed…"
"Edward."
"If I had never been born…"
"Edward!"
"Then the Hall of Awakening would never have been destroyed."
"Edward!"
"Then people would not have been hurt or suffered."
Silvia stood up quickly, her eyes blazing. For the first time since they had met, she looked truly angry.
"Stop it!"
Silvia's voice rang out across the emptying field. Edward froze in place. Even the afternoon breeze seemed to pause for a moment.
Silvia rarely got angry—hardly ever. That was why seeing her expression now was so startling. Her eyes glistened, her jaw tightened and trembled as she fought to hold back her emotions. And for the first time, Edward truly understood that his words had wounded Silvia deeply.
Silvia stepped closer and took hold of both his shoulders—her hands shaking, yet firm, as if afraid he might vanish if she let go.
"Don't ever say that again," she said, her voice trembling with tears.
Edward stared at her, speechless.
"Don't," she went on, tears beginning to well in her eyes. "Do you hear me?"
Edward had never seen Silvia like this before. Never.
"You are not the cause of all these terrible things."
"But—"
"No!" Silvia cut him off sharply. "You are not a monster. You are not a curse. And you are not a mistake."
A single tear rolled down her cheek, and the sight of it felt like a fist squeezing Edward's chest.
"You are my family."
A heavy stillness settled around them. The breeze returned, carrying the scent of dry grass and cool earth. But to Edward, the world around him felt completely silent. Those simple words—you are my family—struck his heart harder than any blow he had ever endured.
Edward bowed his head, his eyes growing hot and stinging. He tried to hold back the storm of feelings inside him, but he could not. For the first time in weeks, the thick wall he had built around himself began to crack.
"I…" his voice came out rough and heavy. "I'm just so afraid."
Without hesitation, Silvia pulled him into a tight embrace. She did not care that Edward was now nearly as tall as she was, nor that he was no longer the small child who used to run to her for comfort. She held him as firmly as she could—just like an older sister protecting her younger brother from all the fears of the world.
"I am afraid too," Silvia whispered beside his ear.
Edward went still.
Silvia gave a faint, bitter yet sincere smile. "I'm afraid of losing you."
The words made Edward's eyes widen. For so long, he had only thought of his own fears. He had never realized that beyond the burden he carried, there was someone else fighting right alongside him—that Silvia was afraid too, that she too felt pain watching him slowly withdraw into himself.
The sun sank completely behind the hills, leaving the sky growing dark and dotted with the first stars. For a while, they simply sat there together in warm silence. No words needed to be spoken, no secrets needed to be hidden. They were just two people, both terrified of losing the only family they had left.
But deep inside Silvia's heart, beneath the calm she showed, a decision was taking firm shape. If Edward would not or could not tell her what was truly happening to him, then she would find the answers herself. No matter what she had to do. No matter the risk.
Night fell slowly over Hougwe Village, wrapping every corner in soft, quiet darkness. A cool wind drifted gently, slipping through the cracks in the windows of the orphanage, where all the lamps had long been extinguished. Every child had drifted off to sleep, and the wooden corridors—usually alive with laughter and footsteps—were now still. Only the chirping of crickets could be heard from beyond the fence, now and then joined by the faint creak of old timber, worn thin by the years.
But Silvia was still awake.
She sat alone near the window in the common room, holding a cup of tea that had grown cold long ago, its steam slowly vanishing into the chill of the night. Her mind felt heavy, filled with questions and worries for which there seemed to be no answers. Her gaze drifted again and again toward the door of Edward's room, not far away.
Over the past few days, it felt as though something had changed. It was not a change that could be easily seen, but rather something felt in the very air. Edward still smiled, still joked as he always did, and still gladly helped the younger children. Yet Silvia knew that all of this was only a carefully constructed surface. Beneath that smile, something was quietly eating away at his heart, slowly breaking him down where no one else could see.
"What are you hiding…" she whispered softly, her voice nearly drowned out by the rustle of the wind.
She let out a long sigh, then slowly stood and walked toward his room. The door stood slightly ajar, leaving just enough space to peer inside. Silvia looked in carefully.
Edward lay upon his simple bed, seemingly fast asleep. Yet even in rest, his face bore an expression of deep weariness—far too heavy a burden for one so young. Silvia gave a faint smile, one that tasted bitter at the corners of her lips.
"At least tonight you can rest in peace…" she murmured, preparing to turn and leave.
But suddenly, Edward began to toss restlessly. His brow furrowed tightly, and his breathing, once steady, grew uneven. Silvia halted in her tracks. That familiar, uneasy feeling she had known so often lately crept back into her chest.
"What is it?"
She hurried closer and sat gently on the edge of the bed, her eyes fixed upon him as her heart began to beat faster. It was then that everything began to unfold.
At first, only Edward's fingers twitched slightly. Moments later, his hands clenched into fists so tight that his knuckles turned white—so fiercely, as if he were grasping something trying to slip away, or perhaps fighting against something trying to pull him under.
"Edward?" Silvia called in a whisper.
There was no answer. The boy's body grew increasingly rigid, stiff as if held fast by some invisible force. Beads of sweat began to form upon his forehead, even though the night air was cool. Silvia's heart raced faster. She had seen others suffer from nightmares before, but this felt different. Far different. It felt far too real, as though Edward's consciousness had truly drifted away to some other place—a place no one else could see or reach.
Then Edward's lips began to move. So faintly, they were almost impossible to hear. Silvia leaned closer, straining to catch every word.
"…fire…"
Silvia froze instantly.
Edward murmured again, this time a little clearer.
"…that city…"
His breathing quickened, his chest rising and falling sharply, and his body trembled faintly.
"Don't…" a small sound escaped his throat, filled with terror. "Don't kill them…"
Silvia sat up straight in shock, her eyes wide with disbelief.
"Edward? Wake up!"
She immediately reached out and took his hand, trying to rouse him. But Edward did not stir in the least, as if his spirit were trapped somewhere far beyond the reach of any call.
"Don't kill them…" he repeated. "Don't…"
His voice sounded so raw, so filled with despair—like that of someone watching a great tragedy unfold, someone who felt he had failed to save countless lives. Silvia's chest felt tight. This was not the voice of a child. It was the voice of someone bearing a pain far too deep.
Slowly, one tear after another began to slip from the corners of Edward's eyes, dampening the pillow beneath him. Silvia stared, stunned. She had never seen anything like this before. Edward was crying in his sleep—unconsciously, soundlessly, yet the tears kept flowing as if carrying a weight too heavy to be held. The sight made Silvia's heart ache as if squeezed in a tight fist.
With gentle movements, she brushed back his hair, just as Mrs. Selner used to do when they were small and afraid.
"Easy now…" she whispered soothingly. "I'm here. It's only a dream…"
Yet even as she spoke the words, Silvia herself felt uncertain. The longer she watched, the more she realized that what Edward was experiencing was no ordinary dream. It felt far too vivid, far too alive.
Then Edward spoke again. A single word. A name. A name that made Silvia feel as though her blood had stopped flowing entirely.
"…Equilibris…"
The room fell utterly silent. So quiet that the beating of her own heart sounded loud in her ears. Silvia's entire body went rigid.
Equilibris?
That name… she had heard it before. Many years ago, when she was still very small, when Mrs. Selner was still alive and caring for them all.
An old memory slowly rose to the surface, as if carried upon the night wind. She saw herself as a little girl, sitting on the kitchen floor of the orphanage one evening. Mrs. Selner sat at the table, opening an old journal with a worn cover. The woman's face was grave, as if she were reading something of great importance and secrecy.
Little Silvia had approached softly.
"What are you reading, Mother?" she asked innocently.
Mrs. Selner started, then quickly closed the book. But before the cover could fully shut, the young girl's eyes caught one word printed clearly upon the page: Equilibris.
"What is Equilibris?" she asked again.
Mrs. Selner fell silent for a long time, looking at her with an expression hard to read. Then she gave a faint smile, one that held a deep sadness.
"It is just an old tale, child. A legend long forgotten by the world. It is nothing you need to think about."
Back then, Silvia had believed her. But now… the very same name had fallen from Edward's lips. And it seemed impossible that this could be mere coincidence.
Silvia looked back at Edward, her heart pounding with an erratic rhythm. And then, something entirely unexpected happened.
The pendant shaped like a sword hanging around Edward's neck—one that had always looked ordinary, no different from any other trinket—began to glow. At first, the light was faint, almost invisible, but it slowly grew brighter and clearer. Two distinct colors shone in turn: red, then blue, red again, then blue. The two lights pulsed in a steady rhythm, just like the beating of a living heart.
Silvia stood up quickly, her eyes wide and unblinking.
"What is this…?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
The light filled the entire room, yet strangely it gave off neither warmth nor coldness. It brought only a sense of something unfamiliar, something she had never felt before. The pendant seemed to possess a life of its own.
For a moment, Silvia thought she saw something within the swirling red and blue light. A pair of eyes—one red, one blue—staring sharply back at her, watching her from behind the veil of radiance. Silvia stepped back, her breath catching in her throat. Her heart nearly stopped in shock. But when she blinked, the vision vanished instantly. All that remained was the pendant, still glowing softly.
"I must have imagined it…" she murmured, though even to herself, she did not sound convinced.
The night wore on slowly. As time passed, Edward's body gradually relaxed. The furrow between his brows smoothed, his breathing returned to its steady, calm rhythm, and the sweat upon his forehead slowly dried. Yet Silvia did not leave. She remained seated at the edge of the bed, silent and still, never taking her eyes off him. She kept watch, just as an older sister would watch over her younger brother, or as a guardian would protect something precious.
Her gaze was gentle, yet filled with deep worry.
"What is truly happening to you, Edward?" she wondered in her heart, though no answer came save for the soft sigh of the night wind.
She looked down at his face, now peaceful in sleep, and slowly took his hand in hers—gently, yet firmly.
"No matter what you are facing out there… no matter what secrets you have been keeping all alone… no matter what power or being is chasing you…" her eyes began to glisten, but she held herself steady. "…you will not face it by yourself."
She bowed her head, her voice dropping to a whisper that seemed to carry only to the wind.
"I promise. This time… I will protect you."
But Silvia did not know. Outside the orphanage walls, upon the highest branch of the great tree that overlooked the old building, someone stood watching in silence. The figure was shrouded completely in a black cloak that covered every inch, remaining perfectly still as if it were part of the night itself. Its gaze was fixed precisely upon Edward's window, and upon the faint red-and-blue light that flickered now and then behind the curtains.
In its hand, the figure held an ancient, circular artifact carved with intricate symbols. Slowly, the object began to glow with the very same light, as if responding to the energy radiating from within the room.
The cloaked figure whispered softly, its voice heavy and burdened.
"The seal is growing weaker…"
The night wind blew stronger, stirring the hem of its cloak. It lifted its face to gaze up at the star-filled sky.
"And the Heir is beginning to awaken."
For the first time, a note of fear entered its voice—a fear heavier than any threat it had ever faced. For if those who had long hunted Edward were beginning to feel afraid, it meant something far greater, far older, and far more dangerous was drawing near.
That night, as Silvia kept faithful vigil beside Edward's bed, as Edward remained trapped within a dream he did not yet understand, and as Destrover lay silent behind his ancient seal, a shadow slowly began to settle over all their hearts. A shadow that would one day change the course of all their lives forever.
That morning, the sun had only just begun to peek over the green hills surrounding Hougwe Village. A thin mist still lingered among the trees, wrapping the landscape in soft, peaceful stillness. The air was cool, refreshing against skin that had rested through the night. But this calm of nature found no echo in Silvia's heart. Her mind was in turmoil, far from peaceful.
She had not slept a wink all night. The memory of Edward muttering in his sleep haunted her, echoing clearly in her ears as if it had happened only moments before.
"…fire…"
"…don't kill them…"
"…Equilibris…"
That last name turned over and over endlessly in her mind. The more she thought about it, the stronger the feeling grew in her chest—that this was no mere coincidence. There was a thread connecting everything, one that was slowly beginning to unravel.
Silvia walked quickly toward the small building at the edge of the village, the place where Altheon usually spent his days reading and studying. Her steps were firm and determined, her expression serious—nothing like her usual bright, easygoing self. When she reached the door, she did not stop to knock and ask permission. Instead, she pushed it open with force.
BANG!
The sound made Altheon, who had been deeply absorbed in an old scroll on his desk, look up sharply. His old spectacles slipped slightly down the bridge of his nose as he stared at the girl standing in the doorway, his expression one of surprise mixed with wariness.
"Silvia?"
His voice held confusion as well as caution.
Silvia stood tall, her gaze sharp and fixed directly upon the old man.
"Old Master."
Altheon let out a long, soft sigh. He needed only one glance to read the mood in her eyes. This was no ordinary visit.
Altheon studied her face carefully. He saw the faint but unmistakable dark circles beneath her eyes, her hair slightly disheveled from being left uncombed, and the heavy anxiety etched into her features. He knew for certain she had not slept all night. And more than that—he knew exactly why.
Edward.
It was always Edward.
"You look exhausted," Altheon said gently.
Silvia did not reply. She did not smile, nor did she joke as she usually did when speaking with him. It was this very silence that filled Altheon's heart with growing worry. For he knew Silvia well—when the girl stopped laughing and stopped making light of things, it meant the matter at hand was grave. Very grave indeed.
Silvia stepped inside. The door closed softly behind her, leaving the two of them alone in the quiet. The walls of the room were lined with tall shelves filled with ancient books, their covers worn thin by time, while dozens of leather scrolls lay scattered across the desk. Yet Silvia paid no attention to any of it. Her eyes remained fixed on Altheon.
"What is truly happening to Edward?" she asked directly, without any preamble.
Altheon fell silent. He did not answer, only looked back at her with an unreadable expression. Slowly, he closed the thick book he had been reading.
"I do not understand what you mean," he said at last, his voice calm yet heavy with unspoken weight.
Silvia clenched her fists tightly.
"You know exactly what I mean."
Silence once again filled the room. The longer it stretched, the more painful it became. To Silvia, Altheon's silence was answer enough.
Within Altheon's heart, a fierce struggle raged. Part of him longed to speak, to explain everything he knew—about the Vessel, about Destrover, about Equilibris, and about the heavy destiny that had been passed down to Edward. But another part held him back. He could not tell her. Not yet. For once the secret was spoken aloud, there would be no turning back. And perhaps, that very knowledge would destroy Edward far sooner than the threats they already faced.
At last, Silvia felt her patience reach its limit.
"I am no longer a child who can be fooled with empty words," she said firmly.
Altheon remained quiet.
"I watch him every day," Silvia continued, taking a slow step closer. "He cannot sleep properly. He often drifts off, as if his mind is somewhere far away. He bears pain that he hides from everyone. He lives in fear that he keeps locked deep inside."
Her voice began to tremble, struggling to hold back the emotion rising within her.
"Yet he keeps pretending as if nothing is wrong."
Silvia's gaze pierced straight into Altheon's eyes.
"And you know why."
Altheon closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the burden upon his shoulders grow heavier still.
"Silvia—"
"No."
Silvia cut him off quickly.
"Do not try to change the subject. Not this time."
Altheon bowed his head slowly. His wrinkled hand tightened its grip on the wooden staff beside him, holding it as if it were the only thing keeping him steady. Deep down, even he felt afraid. Afraid that all the things he had long feared were slowly becoming reality. And what frightened him most of all—he did not know how to stop it.
After a long pause, Altheon finally spoke. But his voice sounded far older than his years, worn down and weighted with weariness.
"There are some truths…" he paused, as if searching for the right words, "…that are far too dangerous to be known right now."
Silvia froze where she stood. For the first time, she saw Altheon not as a great sorcerer who always held the answers, nor as a wise scholar who understood all things—but as an ordinary old man, carrying a burden far too heavy for one person to bear alone.
"The truth about what?" Silvia asked softly.
Altheon shook his head gently.
"I cannot tell you. Not yet."
Silvia studied his face, and something made her heart beat faster. It was not because of the answer she had not received, but because of the expression she saw there. For the first time in her life, she saw genuine fear reflected in Altheon's eyes. And if someone as brave and wise as Altheon was afraid, it meant this matter was far greater and far more dangerous than she had ever imagined.
Silvia took a deep breath to steady herself. Then, in a voice that was firm yet trembling, she spoke a single word—a single name that had haunted her since the night before.
"Equilibris."
Instantly, the room fell into absolute silence. So quiet it seemed as though time itself had stopped. Altheon froze completely. The weariness in his eyes vanished, replaced by wide, startled eyes; his face turned ashen, and the staff in his hand nearly slipped from his grasp. This reaction alone was all the answer Silvia needed. She knew this name was important—so important that it could shake the very composure of the old man.
In Altheon's mind, thousands of ancient records he had read over the years flashed before him: tales of wars from a forgotten age, kingdoms swallowed by time, the legend of the First Guardian, the sword that had been lost to history, and a name that had been deliberately erased from the pages of the world. Equilibris. A name that no one was ever meant to know—least of all a child living in this remote village.
BANG!
Altheon suddenly rose from his chair so quickly that it tipped over backward and crashed to the floor. Silvia gasped; she had never seen the old man react with such force.
"Who told you that name?" Altheon demanded, his voice sharper and more serious than she had ever heard it, sounding almost like a command.
Silvia swallowed hard.
"Edward."
Altheon went still once more.
"Edward…" he whispered the name softly, as if it carried a thousand terrible possibilities. "How could he have heard it?"
Silvia shook her head.
"That is exactly what I wanted to ask you."
And for the first time, Altheon had no answer to give.
Meanwhile, in the backyard of the orphanage…
Edward sat alone beneath the shade of an old, spreading tree. The morning breeze drifted gently, stirring his dark hair. From a distance, he watched the other children playing happily. Alice's bright laughter rang clear and true; Thomas ran swiftly, chasing after Alex; and Serly sat quietly reading beneath another tree. It was a familiar sight, one that felt peaceful and ordinary. Yet it was this very calm that made Edward's chest feel tight and heavy.
He had noticed that over the past few days, everyone had begun to worry about him—especially Silvia.
"I am making them anxious…" he murmured softly.
Edward bowed his head, recalling all the small lies he had told so often. "I'm fine.", "I just didn't sleep well.", "Nothing is wrong." They were all nothing but falsehoods, and he hated himself for it. Yet at the same time, he could not possibly tell them the whole truth. How could he explain that an ancient being named Destrover spoke constantly inside his mind? How could he ever make them believe such a thing?
As afternoon slowly turned toward evening, Edward found himself sitting alone once more—this time atop the small hill behind the orphanage. The sky above was painted in rich shades of golden orange, and clouds drifted slowly across the horizon. For a brief moment, there was no sound to disturb his thoughts. No sudden visions, no cold whisper from Destrover. There was only himself, and a quiet peace he had not felt in a very long time.
"I am so tired…" he whispered.
But deep within his heart lay a fear he had never dared to speak aloud. What if Destrover was right? What if all the visions he saw were truly glimpses of what was to come? What if one day he lost control completely? And most terrifying of all—what if he ended up hurting the people he loved most? These thoughts made his hands tremble slightly.
Edward gripped the sword-shaped pendant hanging around his neck. The light of the setting sun glinted off the old metal surface. He took a deep breath, steadying his racing heart. Then he spoke in a clear, determined voice.
"I will not let Destrover control me."
The evening breeze brushed gently past, as if carrying his promise away.
"I do not care how strong he is. I do not care what my destiny may be. I will find my own path."
For the first time, there was a note of unshakable conviction in his words.
Deep within the dark, silent space of his consciousness, a pair of red eyes slowly opened. Destrover had heard every word Edward had spoken. But this time, he did not mock, nor did he laugh, nor did he reply with sharp words. He remained silent, watching from the shadows, and waiting.
Night fell, wrapping the village in soft darkness. Silvia stood alone beside the window of her room, gazing up at the bright moon shining in the sky. Her expression was serious and filled with resolve.
"I cannot keep waiting," she said to herself.
If Altheon would not—or could not—explain what was truly happening, then she would find the answers herself. No matter what she had to do, no matter where the path led, she would uncover the truth—about Edward, about the name Equilibris, and about all the secrets that had been hidden from them.
Silvia walked to the old wooden cupboard in the corner of the room and opened the bottom drawer. Inside, neatly stored away, were several old journals and documents that had once belonged to Mrs. Selner—things she had never touched in all these years. Slowly, she reached out and took hold of the one with the most worn cover.
"Forgive me, Mother…" she whispered softly. "But I have to know."
At almost the very same moment, deep inside Altheon's quiet study, an ancient book lay open and untouched upon the desk. The room was empty, yet suddenly, the pages of the book began to turn on their own, stirred by a breeze that could not be felt.
Ffffth…
One page turned, then another, until it finally stopped at the very last one. There, an illustration was drawn that would make anyone's skin prickle: a symbol shaped like an eye, woven from red and blue light; a city engulfed in roaring flames; and the figure of a young boy standing firm in the very heart of the fire. Beneath the drawing, written in ancient letters that had nearly faded away with time, were these words:
"When the Vessel opens its eyes…"
"The Age of Balance shall begin anew."
Moments later, Altheon returned to the room. His gaze fell immediately upon the open book. In an instant, all color drained from his face, leaving him pale as a ghost. His hands shook violently as he stepped closer, his eyes fixed upon the words written there for what felt like an eternity. Then he whispered something so softly it could barely be heard.
"May I not be too late…"
Outside the window, the night wind began to blow stronger, swirling dry leaves across the yard. And somehow, it felt as though this night marked the beginning of something—something that had waited thousands of years to finally awaken.