The Valley of Tears trembled beneath the weight of a hundred thousand souls in combat. This was not a war of monsters against gods; it was the final battle between the descendants of the primordial deities for the fate of the Creator Gems in the great ancient medieval age.
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At the heart of the chaos stood he: Ignurk. He was not a cursed being nor a creature of nightmares; he was a formidable knight, a strategist superior in intellect and physical strength to any living man, elf, or dwarf. His only fault had been ambition: refusing to share the balance of the world and rebelling against the other nations to claim absolute dominion over all the gems.
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The battlefront was fragmented. In one sector of the valley, the dwarf troops held out with the Yellow Gem under the command of Thurumk; High above, the armies of the ancient elves with the Blue Gem, led by Vaelianne, and the non-ancient elves with the Green Gem, under the command of Sylvarion, fought shoulder to shoulder. In the heart of the mud, Aelivorn, the leader of the humans, battled fiercely in a direct duel with Ignurk. The dance of blades was deadly, but the superiority of the shadow ruler prevailed: with a devastating, swift blow, he felled the human warrior, leaving him nearly unconscious on the ground, unarmed and at his mercy.
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Ignurk raised his weapon to deliver the final blow and extinguish the line of men. But before the steel touched the fallen warrior, a figure stepped into its path. It was Vaelianne, his one true love, in a bond that the laws of noble blood deemed forbidden. Ignurk's blade pierced the elf's chest without mercy.
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The fabric of reality seemed to hang still. From the ground, Aelivorn regained consciousness only to see his beloved's body collapse. Seeing this scene from above, Sylvarion, the fallen elf's brother, opened his eyes in horror and watched his dear sister's body slowly fall, recalling the old prophecy whispered by the elders: the forbidden union: the awakening of dawn.
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It was then that it happened. A column of white light, violent, pure, and blinding, descended directly from the heavens. The flash was so immense that it left hundreds of combatants on both sides completely blinded. When he opened his eyes, Aelivorn's common sword had been transmuted, glowing with a mystical power that no one had ever seen or witnessed before.
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Aelivorn rose and charged at Ignurk. It was a colossal battle, a clash of titans where neither was willing to yield an inch. Ignurk attacked with the precision of his intellect, but Aelivorn moved driven by pure pain. Finally, displaying formidable cunning and audacity, the human evaded the sovereign's defense and, with a clean, precise thrust, pierced his heart.
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Instantly, the enemy troops, seeing that their sole leader and the mind that dictated their orders had fallen, halted. Their numbers were already greatly diminished, as the armies of Sylvarion and Thurumk had eliminated a large part of their army during the battle. Seeing themselves decimated and without their leader, they decided not to continue the fight and retreated to the colossal walls of their fortified continent.
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Aelivorn slowly turned toward where Vaelianne's lifeless body lay in a pool of blood. The white gleam of the sword began to dissipate; The man dropped the weapon, and it fell slowly, its gleam fading completely just before it touched the ground. The warrior approached the body step by step, fell to his knees, and cradled it in his arms. It was then that he let out a heart-rending cry, a lament filled with a fury and pain never before heard in the great ancient medieval era. The thousands of soldiers present fell into a deathly silence, completely overwhelmed by the profound sense of agony the warrior conveyed. They had won the battle, but he had lost everything in that mire.
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The political repercussions quickly shattered the alliance. From a distance, Sylvarion watched the scene, his fists clenched. In his eyes, there was no relief, but rather a deep hatred and an eternal resentment toward the human race, blaming the recklessness of that forbidden love for the loss of his blood. After the battle, these elves decided to leave the valley, break diplomatic ties, and isolate themselves in their lands, enacting a strict law: no human would be allowed to cross the borders of their beautiful kingdom without explicit permission from the high nobility.
For their part, the elves who served Vaelianne, deeply wounded by the loss of their direct descendant, made a radical decision: they resolved to no longer be part of this continent. With their entire region, their knowledge, and their lineages, they departed in a mass exodus to distant lands, crossing the ocean in search of a new continent where they could start anew and forever forget the tragedy that had befallen these lands.
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Thurumk chose to remain aloof from the blood feuds. He silently approached the human warrior and, as a sign of respect for his grief, placed a firm hand on his shoulder. He then withdrew his troops back to their mountains. From that day forward, the dwarves adopted absolute neutrality; they dedicated themselves to advancing their civilization as usual and opened their doors to free trade and the exchange of resources for both humans and elves of the continent, becoming the commercial bridge of the known world.
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The humans returned to their capital. Upon their arrival, the bells rang out, and the people greeted them with grand celebrations, banquets, and cheers for having defeated Ignurk. However, in the royal palace, there was only a deathly silence. The hero did not participate in the festivities; he shut himself away in the castle's highest tower, his gaze lost on the ocean horizon, observing the void where the ancient elves had vanished forever.
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But fate did not leave him completely empty. Before dying on the battlefield, Vaelianne had bestowed upon him the miracle of life. In that moment of solitude in the tower, a great door opened behind Aelivorn, and two small children came running to him, the living fruit of the relationship and true love that had once existed between them. The father knelt, embraced them tightly to his chest, and, pointing through the great window, said in a firm, deep voice to Aelivorn and Valyriath: "Look toward the horizon. Always remember that, never forget it."
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That was the birth of the Dawn Twins, heirs to two bloodlines destined to remain separate.
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As the years passed, both ascended the throne of men and ruled with justice. After them came their children, and then their children's children, giving rise to a dynasty whose glory spanned the centuries.
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For long centuries, the fields flourished, the roads remained open, and wars were relegated to the tales of elders and chroniclers. The Dawn banner flew over an era of abundance that many came to believe would last forever.
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But time spares not even legends.
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Centuries transformed into millennia. The names of the heroes were etched in stone. Truths became myths. And myths eventually became mere tales.
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The lineage of the twins vanished. The ancient pacts were forgotten. And the memory of the Great War lay buried beneath generations of peace.
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Until now.
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Because in this era, two thousand years after the fall of Ignurk, the immense gates of the Dark Walls were once again thrown wide open.7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡokd7uub9Mn
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