The jungle was unnaturally silent. Crickets no longer chirped, and even the wind seemed to hold its breath. Villagers huddled together beneath mana-lit torches, their green and yellow hues casting long, wavering shadows. Grain sat with his family, tension pressing down on them like a smothering blanket.

“Peace to you all,” came the steady voice of Mother Estriel.

A short elderly woman emerged from the crowd, her presence like an ancient tree rooted deep within the earth. Vines and leaves adorned her simple garments, and her tall wooden staff tapped rhythmically against the ground. Perched on her shoulder was a vibrant parrot, its feathers shimmering faintly in the mana’s glow.

The murmurs ceased as all eyes turned to her. Even the children, some of whom had been crying moments earlier, fell silent under her gaze.

“Mother, who is that elder?” Terra whispered to her mother.

“That is Lady Estriel,” Mother Igo replied. “She is a descendant of Mother Estriel, a shaman who communes with the spirits of nature on our behalf.”

“Why don’t we see her more often?” Grain asked, his curiosity piqued.

“Mother Estriel often undergoes deep meditation, attuning herself to the Earth and the mana flows,” Father Igo explained, his tone hushed but firm. “She only emerges when events of great importance occur. Now, quiet down and listen.”

“It is as you all believe,” Mother Estriel declared, her voice carrying effortlessly through the crowd.

A ripple of murmurs spread again, hushed yet frantic.

“You can’t mean—” a villager began.

“Yes,” Estriel interrupted. “The Wall has fallen.”

The weight of her words hit the crowd like a thunderclap. Shocked gasps and frantic whispers echoed among the villagers.

“But how?” another voice called out.

“The mana fluctuations were our first sign,” Estriel continued. “But I have confirmed the truth through my connection with the jungle’s residents. What once marked the edge of our world is now gone.” She paused, letting the enormity of her words sink in. “How or why this happened remains unknown, but one thing is certain—something stirs beyond the Wall.”

The villagers’ murmurs grew louder, fear and uncertainty rippling through the group.

“What does this mean for us? For the Land of Earth?” someone asked.

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“My only concern is what lies beyond,” Estriel said gravely. “We do not know what caused this, nor what dangers may now be free to roam. The mana fluctuations have already disturbed the balance of the jungle. Creatures are restless, and the energy itself is unstable. However, take heart—Goddess Terra has not forsaken us.”

Some villagers nodded, reassured by her conviction, while others remained tense.

“Do you think the Land of Flame will act?” another voice asked.

“Without a doubt,” Estriel replied. “The explosion was felt by all. This event will not go unnoticed. I foresee the calling of a Conference of the Elements.”

The crowd fell silent at her words.

“The Conference? But that hasn’t happened since the Elemental Wars!” a villager exclaimed.

“Indeed,” Estriel said. “This is a matter of far greater magnitude. Preparations must begin immediately. Great Commander Vulkan will oversee them.”

A tall, broad-shouldered man stepped forward. Despite his age, his presence radiated authority, and the scars etched into his skin told stories of countless battles.

“Rainbow Sparrow Warriors! Black Snake Warriors! Horned Bear Warriors!” Vulkan’s voice boomed. “Prepare to move out! You will escort Mother Estriel to the Land of Earth’s capital!”

Grain’s eyes lit up with admiration. “That’s Great Commander Vulkan!” he whispered excitedly. “He’s a legend! He helped lead the Land of Earth to victory during the Elemental Wars!”

“Grain, quiet,” Father Igo said.

“Igo,” Vulkan called out, approaching the family. “Gather your warriors. We leave at first light.”

“Yes, Commander,” Igo replied with a nod, rising to his feet.

“Father, do you have to go?” Terra asked, her small voice trembling.

Igo knelt before his daughter, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. “I must, my sweet girl. As leader of the Horned Bear Warriors, it’s my duty. But I’ll return to you soon, I promise.”

Terra’s lip quivered, but she nodded. “Okay, Daddy.”

Igo smiled, his expression warm and reassuring despite the tension in the air. “That’s my brave girl.”

He turned to Grain. “Take care of your mother and sister while I’m gone. Can I count on you?”

Grain nodded earnestly. “Of course, Father.”

With one last embrace, Igo rose and walked deeper into the village to prepare for the journey. Grain watched him go, a mix of admiration and unease swirling in his chest. The dense night seemed to press in closer, and for the first time, Grain truly felt the weight of what lay ahead.

The air felt heavier after Father left. I watched his silhouette disappear into the shadows of the jungle, his strong frame swallowed by the night. He always seemed invincible to me, but tonight, for some strange reason I was worried.

“Grain, it’s time to go,” Mother called gently, but I couldn’t move. Not yet.

The warriors were assembling, their voices low as they packed supplies and sharpened weapons. I wanted to be with them. I wanted to fight, to protect. Instead, I was here, in the village, told to “take care” of my mother and Terra. How could I? What did I know about being strong like Father?

“Grain,” Terra’s small voice pulled me from my thoughts. She stood behind me, clutching a doll made of straw and leaves. Her eyes, wide and wet, searched mine for reassurance.

“It’s okay,” I said, though the words felt hollow. “Father will be back soon. He always is.”

She nodded, but I could tell she didn’t believe me. Maybe because I didn’t believe it myself.