Chapter 2: A New Path and a New Friend

Years passed, and Myura grew into a determined young girl. By the age of twelve, she had honed her abilities in secret, mastering low-level dark magic spells such as shadow manipulation and shadow possession. Though her parents remained unaware of her powers, Zenko’s guidance helped her refine her skills. However, the shadowy nature of her abilities left her with more questions than answers.

One morning, Myura’s father, Takeshi, called her outside to train. The morning sun bathed the field in golden light, and the faint sound of rustling leaves filled the air.

“You’ll need to know how to defend yourself, Myura,” Takeshi said, tossing her a wooden sword. “Magic is one thing, but a sword is a more reliable ally in close combat.”

Myura hesitated, gripping the wooden hilt awkwardly. “Do I have to? Magic seems so much more practical.”

Takeshi chuckled. “Even the strongest mages need a fallback. Come on, let’s see what you’ve got.”

For hours, they sparred, Takeshi guiding her through the basics. Though her movements were clumsy at first, Myura’s determination shone through. By the end of the day, her arms ached, but a spark of pride glimmered in her eyes.

As they sat under a tree to rest, Myura glanced at her father. “Why do you push me so hard, Father?”

Takeshi’s expression softened. “Because I want you to be strong enough to protect what you love. You have a good heart, Myura. The world needs more of that.”

Her resolve hardened. “I’ll work harder. I’ll become strong enough to protect everyone I care about.”

The next day came and the morning sun bathed the bustling streets of the market in a warm glow, the air filled with the chatter of merchants and the tantalizing aroma of fresh bread and roasted meats. Myura walked beside her father, Takeshi, her small hand clutching his as they wove through the lively crowd.

“Stay close, Myura,” Takeshi said, his deep voice calm but firm. He glanced down at her with a soft smile. “The market can be a little overwhelming if you’re not used to it.”

Myura nodded eagerly, her eyes wide as she took in the vibrant sights and sounds. Stalls lined the cobblestone streets, their colorful awnings fluttering in the breeze. Vendors shouted over one another, advertising their goods—everything from ripe fruits to finely crafted jewelry.

“This place is amazing!” Myura said, her excitement barely contained. She tugged on Takeshi’s arm. “Can we look around more after we get what we need?”

Takeshi chuckled. “We’ll see. Let’s get your mother’s ingredients first.”

As they moved through the crowd, Myura’s gaze wandered, her attention caught by the vibrant displays and the occasional street performer juggling or playing a lute. But as they passed a narrow alleyway, something unusual caught her eye—a boy, crouched behind a wooden crate, his face partially obscured by his knees.

Myura stopped, her curiosity piqued. “Dad, wait a second,” she said, pulling her hand free.

“What is it?” Takeshi asked, but Myura was already heading toward the alley.

THE MYSTERIOUS BOY

The boy didn’t seem to notice Myura as she approached. His clothes were simple, slightly worn, and his dark hair fell messily over his face. Myura tilted her head, her curiosity growing.

“Hello!” she said cheerfully, crouching down to his level.

The boy flinched, his head snapping up. His deep blue eyes met hers for a brief moment before he quickly looked away, pulling his knees closer to his chest.

Myura wasn’t deterred. She smiled warmly. “My name’s Myura. What’s yours?”

The boy hesitated, his voice barely audible. “K-Kazuki.”

“Nice to meet you, Kazuki!” Myura said brightly. “What are you doing here all by yourself?”

Kazuki didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the ground. Myura frowned slightly, then sat down beside him, resting her chin in her hands. “You’re shy, huh?”

Kazuki peeked at her from the corner of his eye, surprised by her persistence. “I… I don’t talk to people much,” he admitted quietly.

“Well, you’re talking to me now,” Myura pointed out with a grin. “So, we’re already off to a good start.”

Kazuki’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile before he quickly hid it. Myura leaned closer, her excitement growing. “Hey, do you want to be friends?”

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Kazuki blinked, his face lighting up with surprise. “Friends?”

“Yeah! You know, someone to talk to, play with, and do fun stuff together,” Myura explained, her hands gesturing animatedly. “It’ll be great!”

Kazuki’s expression wavered between skepticism and hope. “You really want to be my friend?”

“Of course!” Myura said, jumping to her feet. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to my dad!”

TAKESHI’S APPROVAL

Kazuki hesitated but finally stood, following Myura reluctantly. As they approached Takeshi, the towering captain of the guard turned and raised an eyebrow. “Myura, who’s this?”

Myura beamed, grabbing Kazuki’s hand and pulling him forward. “This is Kazuki! He’s my first friend!”

Kazuki looked down, his face reddening as he fidgeted under Takeshi’s gaze. “Uh… hi, sir,” he mumbled.

Takeshi’s stern expression softened into a warm smile. He crouched slightly to meet Kazuki’s eye level. “Well, hello, Kazuki. It’s nice to meet you.”

Kazuki nodded shyly, his grip tightening on the hem of his shirt. Takeshi glanced at Myura, who was practically bouncing with excitement. “Looks like you’ve made her very happy,” he said with a chuckle. “That’s not an easy task.”

Kazuki managed a small smile, his confidence growing. Myura grabbed both their hands, pulling them toward the next stall. “Come on, let’s keep exploring! This is so much fun!”

Later that day Myura returns home with her dad. Myura makes her way to her room.

Sitting in her room that quiet evening, Myura flipped through an old book her father had given her, its pages filled with tales of the past. The candlelight flickered, casting shadows on the walls as her fingers traced the words. It was the story her father had told her many times before, but now, reading it for herself, the weight of its meaning felt even heavier.

"This is the story of how our world became divided," Myura murmured to herself, her crimson eyes scanning the aged parchment. "Of how two great kings, once the closest of friends, were torn apart by darkness."

THE FRIENDSHIP OF VALTHOR AND ERYNDOR

Long ago, the lands of Aetheria and Ezakar were not separate kingdoms but one united nation known as Heiwajima, the Land of Peace. The nation thrived under the rule of two kings: Valthor, the proud and wise leader of the demihumans, and Eryndor, the noble and just king of the humans. The two rulers were more than allies; they were brothers in all but blood, bound by a shared vision of harmony.

Valthor, known for his unmatched strength and cunning, commanded respect among his people, while Eryndor, with his unwavering compassion and sharp intellect, inspired loyalty among the humans. Together, they worked tirelessly to bridge the differences between their races, fostering a golden age of prosperity and cooperation.

“They shared everything,” Myura read aloud. “Their riches, their knowledge, even their hardships. Together, they made the Land of Peace a reality.”

THE DISCOVERY OF THE STONE

But peace, as Myura had come to understand, is fragile.

One fateful day, deep within the mines of Aetheria, a demihuman miner unearthed a peculiar stone. It shimmered with an otherworldly light, its surface smooth yet cold to the touch. Intrigued, the miner brought the stone to King Valthor as a gift, a symbol of Aetheria’s prosperity.

Unbeknownst to the demihumans, the stone was no ordinary gem. It was a fragment of something far older, imbued with the essence of dark magic. The stone resonated with Valthor’s latent abilities, its presence stirring something deep within him.

At first, the changes were subtle. Valthor became more reclusive, spending long hours studying the stone in private. His closest advisors noticed his growing obsession, but their concerns fell on deaf ears. As the days turned into weeks, Valthor’s demeanor shifted. His once warm and commanding presence grew cold and distant, his sharp mind clouded by an unseen force.

ERYNDOR’S VISIT

Eryndor, troubled by the rumors of his friend’s isolation, traveled to Aetheria to visit Valthor. Upon arriving at the grand halls of the demihuman king, Eryndor found the once vibrant court eerily silent. The corridors were empty, the air heavy with unease.

When he finally reached Valthor’s chambers, what he saw chilled him to his core. Valthor sat hunched over the stone, his eyes glowing faintly with a dark hue. The once proud king looked gaunt, his features twisted with a mix of anger and desperation.

“Valthor,” Eryndor said, stepping forward cautiously. “What has happened to you? Your people are worried. I’m worried.”

Valthor’s head snapped up, his voice a low growl. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Eryndor’s heart sank. “You’re my friend. I came to help. Whatever this is, we can face it together.”

But Valthor shook his head violently, clutching the stone closer. “You want to take it from me! You’re just like the others.”

“Take what? That stone?” Eryndor asked, his eyes narrowing. “Valthor, can’t you see what it’s doing to you? It’s poisoning your mind.”

“Lies!” Valthor roared, his voice echoing through the chamber. “You’re jealous of its power. You want it for yourself!”

THE FINAL BATTLE

Eryndor stepped forward, his hands raised in a placating gesture. “Please, Valthor, listen to yourself. This isn’t you. You’re stronger than this—stronger than some cursed stone.”

But Valthor refused to listen. In a fit of rage, he drew his blade, the dark energy of the stone coursing through him. “If you’ve come to take it, you’ll have to kill me first.”

Eryndor hesitated, his heart breaking as he realized his words could not reach his friend. When Valthor charged, Eryndor had no choice but to defend himself. The clash of their blades rang out through the empty halls, a tragic echo of the unity they once shared.

Despite his strength, Valthor was no match for Eryndor’s resolve. With tears streaming down his face, Eryndor struck the final blow, his sword piercing Valthor’s heart. As the demihuman king fell, the stone’s light dimmed, its dark power retreating.

Valthor’s dying words were a whisper. “The stone… is mine…”

THE AFTERMATH

Eryndor stood over his fallen friend, grief consuming him. “I’m sorry, my brother,” he said, his voice shaking. “I couldn’t save you.”

He took the stone, now dull and gray, and named it the Abyssal Shard—a reminder of the darkness it had wrought. Fearing its power, Eryndor hid the shard where no one would find it, sealing it away to protect the world from its corruption.

But the damage was done. The demihumans, upon learning of Valthor’s death, blamed Eryndor and the humans. Their grief turned to hatred, and they severed ties with the human kingdom, retreating to their lands and forming the nation of Aetheria. The unity of Heiwajima was shattered, replaced by centuries of mistrust and war.

MYURA’S REFLECTION

Myura closed the book, her fingers lingering on the worn cover. “And that’s how it all began,” she whispered to herself. “Two friends torn apart by something so small, yet so powerful.”

She looked out the window at the setting sun, her heart heavy with the weight of the story. “I wonder… will things ever change? Or are we doomed to repeat the same mistakes?”

Zenko, floating silently nearby, spoke softly. “Sometimes, the past teaches us what we need to avoid. But it’s up to us to decide what we do with that knowledge.”

Myura nodded, a spark of determination lighting in her eyes. “Then I’ll make sure to never let something like that happen to me—or to the people I care about.”