The Silver Dawn

The chamber was silent.

Ariel sat across from the Overseer, his mind still processing the weight of his own words.

"My Legacy is the Moon Goddess."

The admission had felt like crossing a threshold—a point of no return.

Yet, the Overseer did not react with shock. She did not demand proof. She simply observed.

Then, after a long moment, she spoke.

"I see."

Her tone was unreadable. Calm, steady, as if this revelation had confirmed something she had already suspected.

Ariel swallowed, his throat dry. "That's all you have to say?"

The Overseer's golden eyes flickered. "What more is there?"

Ariel frowned, his chest tightening. "You don't think I'm lying?"

"No," she said simply.

That should have made him feel relieved. But instead, it made the tension in his gut coil even tighter.

The Overseer leaned forward slightly, studying him. "Tell me, Ariel. Do you understand what this means?"

Ariel exhaled slowly. He had some idea—but the weight of it was still sinking in.

The Overseer continued. "Mythical Legacies are the rarest of all. But contrary to what most believe, they do not make one stronger than others."

Ariel furrowed his brow. "They don't?"

She shook her head. "Not at first."

A soft hum filled the air as she raised her hand, a faint pulse of golden mana swirling between her fingers.

"All wielders grow stronger as they break their Seals. But for most, their power increases steadily over time." The energy in her palm shifted, expanding outward like a slow-burning flame. "They refine their abilities, hone their skills, and gradually improve."

Then—the light collapsed inward, shrinking to a single, blinding point.

"But Mythical Legacies do not grow the same way."

Ariel felt something shift in the air.

The Overseer's voice grew quieter. "At the lower Seals, they may be no stronger than any other wielder. Some even struggle more. But when they reach the later stages…"

The golden light in her palm exploded outward, illuminating the room in a sudden burst of radiance.

"…they surpass all others."

Ariel stared at the fading glow, his mind racing.

So that was the truth. Mythical Legacies weren't inherently stronger from the start. They weren't gods walking among mortals.

But once they broke enough Seals…

They became something else entirely.

The Overseer lowered her hand, her gaze unwavering. "That is the fate that awaits you." A short pause filled the room with palpable tension "If you survive that is."

Ariel's breath stilled.

She wasn't speaking hypothetically. 

She was stating it as fact.

And that terrified him.

The Three Chosen

The Overseer remained quiet for a long moment before continuing.

"You are not the only one."

Ariel blinked. "What?"

The Overseer exhaled softly. "There are three factions in Avren, and each one—at any given time—has exactly oneMythical Legacy wielder."

She met his gaze. "You are the Lightbound Order's."

Ariel felt his stomach turn. He had never considered this before.

"Who are the others?" he asked carefully.

The Overseer raised two fingers. "Two names. Kai and Lucia."

Ariel absorbed the names.

She continued. "Kai of the Shadow Veil. No one knows the full extent of his abilities, but it is said he can vanish from sight, even from those trained to see through illusions."

Ariel's fingers twitched.

She turned to the second name. "And Lucia of the Astral Vanguard. She has been recognized as the strongest prodigy of her generation—her strength already rivals seasoned warriors, despite still being in her early years of training."

Ariel felt the weight of the words.

Kai. Lucia.

Two people he had never met, yet somehow, their names felt significant.

"Like you," the Overseer said, "they bear the burden of expectation."

Ariel frowned. "Expectation?"

She nodded. "Because you are not just a wielder. You are something more. You are what the Order will call its Chosen One."

Ariel's pulse quickened.

The Overseer's voice softened just slightly. "And from this moment forward… nothing will be the same."

The Hero They Want

She was right.

By the time Ariel left the training halls that evening, everything had changed.

The moment he stepped outside, he was met with whispers.

They were different now.

Not curiosity.

Reverence.

The knights no longer ignored him. They bowed their heads slightly when he passed.

The initiates no longer whispered behind his back. They watched him with something that resembled awe.

And then came the luxury.

By the time Ariel returned to his room, it was no longer his room.

The small, cold chamber was gone. Instead, he found himself standing in a spacious, decorated chamber lined with silk and polished stone.

His cot had been replaced with an ornate bed. A tray of freshly prepared food had been left on a mahogany table.

It was too much.

Too sudden.

Too forced.

Ariel sat down, staring blankly at the lavish surroundings.

This wasn't meant for him.

This wasn't who he was.

A hero. A savior. The Chosen One of the Lightbound Order.

He wasn't any of those things.

He wasn't a warrior. He wasn't a leader. He wasn't even strong.

He was just a boy who had survived.

And survival had cost him everything.

The Breaking Point

Ariel didn't realize his hands were shaking until he felt the warmth of his own breath against them.

The room was silent.

Too silent.

His heartbeat pounded against his skull. His chest felt tight, constricted, like something inside him was trying to claw its way out.

He had spent every waking moment running forward, trying to understand his power, trying to survive.

But in this moment, sitting alone in the quiet, he finally had time to think.

Time to remember.

Their faces.

His mother's warm smile. His father's reassuring voice.

His little brother's laughter.

Gone.

Gone.

Gone.

The weight of it all crashed into him at once.

Ariel's breath hitched, his vision blurring. He clutched his arms, pressing his forehead to his knees as the air around him grew cold.

For the first time since Eldrin fell, he let the grief consume him.

Not in anger. Not in rage.

Just in pure, hollow, unbearable loss.

A hero?

He wasn't a hero.

He was a ghost wearing the skin of one.

And in this moment, in the silence of his empty, gilded prison, Ariel finally broke. Tears welled in his eyes and he broke down.