Time, spanning centuries, flowed silently, but there were some wounds that even time could not heal. The Zarrin serpent, who had fled that day badly wounded, had returned from the brink of death. Her body was weak, the magic had dissipated, and the fire that had burned in her eyes had temporarily turned to ashes. She hid herself in a deserted, old house in the world of men—a house where no one had lived for years, where dampness hung in the walls and fear in the air. That place became her refuge, that was her sanctuary, that was her place of worship.
She had been in darkness for years. During the day she hid in the shadows, and at night, when the world slept, she practiced black magic. Her spells were more dangerous than ever, more cruel than ever. She made sacrifices, sacrifices that even the earth trembled at the mention of them. The snakes would come at her call, the blood would be absorbed into the earth, and with each passing year, Zarrin's power grew. There was no longer just hatred in her eyes, but a cold confidence—the confidence that only those who patiently prepare for revenge have.
Years later, when she felt stronger than ever, she returned. But this time her target was not Seraph. She knew that killing Seraph was impossible now, because the old wizard had built a protective wall around him that neither she nor the Seraph Prince could break. So she struck where the pain was deepest—Seraph's past.
Seraph's parents lived in a silent valley at that time, isolated from the world, grieving and waiting for their son. Zareen came one night as a black mist. Her arrival turned the air cold, and the rustling of snakes spread across the land. She recited black magic spells, and in an instant, Seraph's parents were imprisoned in a deep, dark cell—a cell where even the thought of light was a crime.
Zarin stood before them and lied, but a lie laced with truth. "Your son is dead," she said coldly. "Now this world demands leadership, and I will be the queen of the serpents."
This lie wounded not the valley, but destiny. Zarin began to take over the serpent world. Her power, her fear, and her ruthlessness forced the serpents to bow before her. Those who went against her either turned to ashes or were the prey of snakes. Thus Zarin became the queen of the serpent world—the queen of fear, the queen of darkness.
On the other hand, the serpent prince Zarin Navar was not sitting still either. He was gravely wounded, but alive. He imprisoned himself in the deep caves, where time slows down. He did not forget his defeat, but began to turn it into strength. He knew that the seraph could not be killed yet. The protective barrier was a wall that could only be broken by time, not by force. So Zayran made waiting his weapon. He was ready to wait for centuries, because serpents know patience well.
And during that wait, time took another turn.
Two hundred years later, in the world of humans, it was an ordinary night. The rain was falling lightly, and a lamp was burning in a small house. The house was neither a palace nor a magical castle—just a simple house, but there was a strange purity in its atmosphere. In that house, a baby girl was born.
When she was born, the air in the room suddenly softened. The lampshade trembled slightly, and it was as if time had stopped for a moment. The baby girl's cry was not like that of ordinary children—it had a deep resonance, as if an old soul had breathed. When her mother held her to her chest, tears welled up in her heart for no reason, as if she were regaining something lost.
The girl's eyes were extraordinary—deep, bright, and surprisingly calm. Her father, looking at her, said, "This girl… doesn't look ordinary." He didn't know that his words were the words of fate.
It was Elena.
Or rather, Elena's soul, which had returned to fulfil a promise.
She was human, perfectly human, but in her soul was hidden the light of centuries-old love. Her parents were simple people, but rich in heart. They did not know what powers their daughter inherited, or what eyes had spent centuries waiting for her. All they knew was that this girl was the most precious blessing of their lives.
At that moment, far away, within a protective enclosure, the seraph closed his eyes. A slight tremor occurred in his heart—a tremor that only those who live by promises could feel. He did not know why, but his heart whispered:
"She has returned."
The Tsarina sat smiling in her dark kingdom, the Serpent Prince waited in his cave, and in the world of humans, a newborn girl was taking her first breath of life.
Three paths, three worlds, and one destiny—which was not yet complete.
Two centuries later, the human world was breathing again. Time had healed the wounds of war, but magic had not forgotten everything. In a small, lush town, where the morning air was fragrant with flowers and the night sky was filled with stars, the girl who had been awaited for centuries was born. She was named Elena—an ordinary human name, but within that name was hidden an extraordinary destiny.
Elena's parents were simple but loving people. Her father was a quiet man with gentle eyes, and her mother was a woman who seemed to sleep away all sorrows as soon as she was in her arms. Neither of them knew that their daughter was no ordinary child, but somewhere in their hearts, they wondered why this child was so different. At the time of Elena's birth, the sky was briefly illuminated by a golden light, as if the sun had peeked into the night, but only a few special eyes saw this scene—eyes that recognised magic.
Elena was an extraordinarily beautiful child. She was still a baby when people would stop and stare at her. Her skin was as if made of soft light, her eyes were deep and transparent, as if a forgotten dream were floating in them. Her hair was soft as silk, and when she smiled, it seemed as if something had slightly sparkled in the air. She laughed, cried, and played like ordinary children, but there was a silent attraction in her being—an attraction that touched the heart for no reason.
Time passed, and Elena was five years old. Now she was starting to go to school. Small bag, small steps, and curiosity in her eyes. When she walked to school, people would involuntarily stare at her. No one could figure out why they had stopped, why their eyes could not be taken away, only their hearts told them that there was something special about this girl. But this "something special" was still asleep, in a deep sleep.
Elena herself did not know what it was. There was no memory inside her, no identity. Only sometimes, while sleeping at night, she would have strange dreams. Blurred, broken dreams. Sometimes she would feel as if someone was calling her—a voice that came from far away, but seemed very close to her heart. Sometimes she would see golden light in her dreams, sometimes shadows, sometimes the rustling of snakes, and sometimes the feeling of someone's arms, holding her tightly. She would wake up and be frightened, but then find peace in her mother's arms, without realising that these dreams were actually fragments of memories.
In those days, in another world, Seraph was still alive—but life was not just about breathing. After Elena's death, he had stopped time, as if. The old wizard had built a protective wall around him that was impenetrable to any dark force. Within this wall, Seraph waited for centuries, silent, loyal, and broken. But as soon as the old wizard told him that Elena had been reborn, the soul that had been dead inside Seraph came back to life.
For the first time that day, in centuries, Seraph smiled. That smile was filled with pain, but also with hope. He bowed his head at the old wizard's feet. "Father… take me to her. I ask for nothing; I just want to see her grow up before my eyes. I don't want anyone to take her away from me this time."
The old wizard looked deeply at Seraph. His eyes held the weariness of time, but also the firmness of decision. "You can stay close to her," he said, "but you must hide your true identity. The human world cannot bear the truth yet."
At that moment, the seraph changed his form. He transformed into a small, golden snake—a snake that was not scary, but beautiful. His body glowed with a soft golden light, his eyes sparkled with intelligence and love. He began to live close to Elena, at her feet, in her protection, connected to her breath.
Elena loved that little golden snake very much. She called it her "friend." Little did she know that this friend was actually the one whose soul had been bound to her centuries before. She would talk to it, laugh with it, and tell stories of her day. Sometimes the snake would wrap itself around her hand, sometimes rest on her shoulder, and Elena felt a strange peace, as if she were not alone.
There was not just one golden snake around Elena. Many other golden snakes also silently protected her. They were invisible to the naked eye, but where there was danger, they were present like shadows. If someone looked at Elena with bad intentions, she would feel a sense of fear. If someone tried to get close, things would change automatically. All of this was part of the protective circle that the magic had created.
Elena's parents loved her dearly. To them, she was just a sweet little daughter whose laughter lit up their home. They didn't know what powers she was standing between, but they tried to keep her safe every moment. Their love had also, knowingly or unknowingly, become part of this protective fence.
On the other hand, in the darkness, the Tsarina Serpent had consolidated her empire. She had taken over the world of serpents, declared herself their queen, and had imprisoned Seraph's parents in the dungeon and spread the rumour that Seraph was dead. The hatred in her heart was still alive, and she was counting down the time—the day when she would see Seraph weak again.
The Seraph Prince was not sitting still either. He was regaining his strength, patiently, with a plan. He knew that it was useless to attack now, because the old wizard's protective barrier was impenetrable. So he was waiting for that moment when fate itself would open the door.
And in the human world, a five-year-old girl, going to school, laughing, playing, dreaming, without knowing that at the age of seventeen her memories would return, her destiny would awaken, and the story of love, war, and sacrifice would come to life once again.
All this was just a quiet beginning…
The calm before the storm.
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