A few days passed as the boys recovered from their final challenge. Time moved slowly, with the space of their days filled with hearty meals, campfires, and stories beneath the stars. But the boys were growing restless. Without something to aspire towards, it was only a matter of time until their restlessness got the better of them.

One of those afternoons, Storm had said some stupid comment to Caim, and the result was the two of them going at it as they laughed and cursed one another. Ronin watched as the two threw punches, tackled each other, and rolled around the grass.

Caim and Storm had spent their entire lives growing up at the Edge, the farthest they could have possibly been from the rest of the world. Because of this, they had a certain naivety about them, an innocence that Ronin cherished more than anything. He remembered them as children, stubborn as rocks, yet free as birds. They always had a great love for life and the adventures that came with it. He could hear them yelling at one another in both realms, within his memories, and outside them.

I have done all I can for you two. It’ll be harder from now on, but you’ll always have the challenges of the past to help you with the challenges of the present. You two bear a great burden, though unknowingly . . . His eyes looked longingly toward the sky. You two have the chance to succeed where I once failed.

Caim stuck his tongue out at Storm, and Ronin smiled with a faint touch of sadness. Despite their unruly and childish behavior, and despite conditions in which most would have fled for their lives, they had managed to surpass all the life-threatening challenges he had put them through, including his final test, which had forced them to fight in a hopeless state. He briefly touched on the thought of luck and if it could have been a factor in their triumph.

Luck, he thought. Such a thing cannot exist. Not in this cruel world. After a moment, Ronin found a second outlook. But if it does, it is them whom luck would befriend. Of that, I am sure.

“It’s time,” he said quietly. “I hope I haven’t been putting this off for fear of missing them.” He could suddenly hear whispering from Caim and Storm’s direction. The sound of rustling and fighting had come to a stop.

“I told you . . . old people talk to themselves,” Storm whispered into Caim’s ear.

“What was that?” Ronin asked, looking up.

“Nothing,” said Storm quickly, wiping a trickle of sweat from his forehead.

“Grandpa,” Caim raised his hand. “Why do old people talk to themselves?” Tension wove its way through Ronin’s body. Storm slowly turned his head to stare at Caim incredulously.

“For the last time . . . I am not old!” Ronin sighed. “There are firstborn still alive in the world, you know. They’re the old ones, but nobody hears you talking about them, do you?”

“He’s doing it again,” Caim said, nudging Storm in the side.

“He’s always talking about things that nobody remembers except for him,” said Storm.

“Because he’s ancient?” Caim asked, and Storm nodded surely.

Ronin lifted an eyebrow. “Ancient? You two know nothing of the word ancient.”

Caim yawned. “All this talk about how old you are is making me sleepy.” Just like that, Caim laid down on the grass, sprawled out his legs and was snoring before anyone could question it. Storm smirked, then waved to Ronin before walking over to the tree near the cliffs of the Edge. Leaning his back against it, he couldn’t help thinking about something that had been bothering him since the trial.

Closing his eyes, Storm left the outer world for his memories, following them back to Ronin’s Inner Depths. The sounds of the outside world grew silent as he remembered the burn of the air, the thunder of clashing swords, and the feeling of absolute hopelessness. He could still vividly see the chunks of blackened rock floating across a tempest sky. Meteors fell one by one to a dark, cold land below, its natural state the essence of destruction itself. The only creatures he could see were pure white crows flying past him as enormous titans rose up from the bubbling lava below.

“Why can’t I stop thinking about your world, old man,” whispered Storm.

The whole time he had been within Ronin’s world, he felt as if strife and despair were ripping apart at his very being. The spirit of the world had not been one of happiness or joy, but the type of sadness that had long since felt warmth. It was a sorrow that had seen only loss and ruin. The broken moon was equally bewildering, full, yet fractured down the middle, as if it were a broken heart. He wondered if the moon had always been broken, and what could have happened to Ronin in his past to cause such a thing to exist in his soul.

What haven’t you told us? Storm thought. If our individual worlds reflect our emotions, fears, and experiences, then what happened to you? How come you never speak of your past? And why were you alone when you found us on that cliff so long ago? Have you always been alone? Is that why your world is so sad, so broken?

He peeked open his eyes to look over at Ronin, who was sitting peacefully by their cabin. He was shirtless, revealing the tattoos that covered half of his body. Storm had always wondered what exactly they were, or what they meant, but the old man refused to speak of them.

They’re definitely a link to something from his past, thought Storm. Maybe it’s a symbol for something bad he did, like something that he doesn’t want to forget. He shook his head. No, that doesn’t really sound like him. I hate not knowing things! He fought back his frustration, knowing that the truth would not be answered this day, if any.

Taking his thoughts elsewhere, Storm remembered the first time he entered his own Inner Depths. He didn’t understand why, but his own world was far different than he thought it would have been. It was vast, empty, and filled with nothing but endless black valleys. There was hardly any light, and what light there was came only from the two moons in the skies above, and a single star that shone alone.

In the center of his world was a beautiful silver tree that stood before a dark cave. Upon the tree were many white leaves that diminished in number the more he looked at them, but the most unique aspect of the tree was a magnificent black spear protruding from its trunk. No matter how hard he had tried, he could never pull the spear free.

Nothing makes sense, thought Storm. Absolutely nothing.

Before realizing it, Storm found himself standing within his own Inner Depths, staring at that very spear stuck in the silver tree. He found that cycles of traveling back and forth had made it easier and easier for him to pass between the two worlds. He gave the spear a tug, but it was snug as ever. Letting go, and taking in a breath of the cool breezy winds, he looked around at the world within his mind.

The skies were dark and raining, but high above a single star shone as brightly as ever. As the rain touched down on the grounds of his world, each drop rang with the slight and subtle sound of a bell, bringing a thin smile to his face. High above, the two moons watched over him, one glowing like emerald, the other as true to red as flame. They had always reminded him of evil eyes in the sky, forever gazing down at him. When he was younger, they had brought him nothing but nightmares and uncertainty. It wasn’t an odd thing for his world to have two moons, since their home world did, but it was the strange pallor of them that he could not quite put his finger on.

“One day, I will learn your truth,” said Storm, gazing up at the moons. He could hear the voice of Caim laughing from far, far away, his brother’s voice seemingly traveling across the worlds. Was it a memory? He couldn’t say. Storm smiled as the laugh passed him by, remembering what his brother had once told him about his own Inner Depths. He could hear Caim’s voice within his mind.

“It has really, really, really big monsters! And lots of food! Every time I go there, I get to eat as much as I want, but I always have to fight these monsters to keep them from eating my food! Oh, oh, oh! And my sword is bigger than yours and grandpa’s combined! I also have the coolest cape ever, just like grandpa.”

Storm exhaled deeply, smiling. Opening his eyes, he left the world as easily as snapping his fingers. Caim and Ronin had hardly moved from the last time he saw them, and he remembered that while in Inner Depths, time moved much slower than in the real world. It was often the key to his accelerated training.

Back in the real world, Storm sat up from the tree, and stepped over Caim, who opened one eye as he passed. Walking over to Ronin, Storm sat down and thumbed his fingers together, nervous to ask the question inside.

“What’s on your mind, Storm?” Ronin asked, acknowledging the question brimming.

Storm paused briefly before speaking. “You told us long ago that each of our Inner Depths reflected ourselves in ways hard to understand. . .” He came to a halt, unable to find the right words.

“You’re wondering why my world is . . . how it is, I imagine,” Ronin finished the question for him. But his tone had changed, and Storm realized he was touching upon something that the old man wasn’t keen on talking about.

What happened to you? Storm wanted to ask, but couldn’t bring himself to it.

“Well, yeah,” said Storm finally. “It’s just, it was pretty grim in there . . .” The feeling of being timid didn’t sit well in his stomach, and he suddenly wished he hadn’t brought it up in the first place.

Behind them, Caim had woken up, and strangely enough, drawn his fallblade and was pointing it toward a tiny spider. The spider stopped, its tiny eyes looking up at the glistening blade.

“So, you’re the culprit,” whispered Caim.

Ronin smiled, then began laughing. It was a deep, honest laugh. “When you’re as strong as I am, Storm, you have the ability to make the world look and feel however you want. It wouldn’t be much of a final trial under the warmth and beauty of the blue sky, would it?”

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Be vanquished, spider!” Caim cried, slashing his sword at the ground. Over and over, he attacked the same place without mercy. A few feet away, the spider crawled leisurely into the bushes.

“I see,” said Storm, turning his eyes to Caim. He couldn’t tell if his grandfather was joking or not, but for some reason, he couldn’t help but feel like he was hiding something from them. He never once felt as if he had control of his own Inner Depths, but he left the conversation at that.

Caim sheathed his sword. “Spider destroyed,” he said, running his thumb across his lips in triumph. Turning to face Ronin, Caim’s eyes illuminated as they always did when he had a new idea. “Na, grandpa, if we were able to defeat you, then are we the strongest in the whole world?”

As usual, he was never keen to the current conversation, but Storm looked up curiously. Strangely enough, this was a question he had not thought to ask before. The strongest in the world? His imagination began to race as thoughts of Fenrir, Lord Fall, and the Living Blades swam through his mind.

Ronin poured himself a cup of wine, and for a long while, just sat there. Then he started laughing, hard. Caim and Storm’s eyes watched him carefully, wondering what his answer would be.

“The strongest in our world, ka . . .” said Ronin, finally. “You boys are grass before the great tree if you compare yourselves to the strongest of our world. And even beyond this world are things that are so much stronger than you could ever imagine. There are incredible things out there, unexplainable things that would leave you breathless and awed for days on end.”

Caim inhaled in wonder while Storm raised an eyebrow.

“Really?” Caim asked. “What kinds of things? Do tell, do tell!”

“Who is it?” Storm asked. “Who’s the strongest?”

“More like, what is it,” said Ronin, taking a sip of his wine. He gazed up at the sky and spoke.

“Our world is many things, and although there are an endless amount of things to see on it, there are also many other things that exist beyond the realm of Soria, beyond the planet Aeryx. As you boys know from the stories of old, our race was born to be guardians of this world, or one thing in particular. We, the sorian people, were brought into existence to protect one goddess, for she is life for all things.”

“Lady Vale,” whispered Caim, his eyes glancing up at the clouds. “She’s really there?”

“Here he goes again with the stories,” mumbled Storm, leaning back on the grass.

“Stories indeed,” said Ronin. “But those with a great semblance of truth.”

“Uh huh,” said Storm.

“A long time ago,” continued Ronin, “there was the first of the great wars, or the Creation War, and from the ashes of that great battle was our race first born. Since then, there have been six other wars, and they have come to be known as Éiéndrahk, or in our language, the Never-ending War of Gods. It is a timeless war, that, as far as we know of, can never be fully stopped.”

“Why?” Caim asked, his hands playing with a blade of grass.

“Because the one causing the war is Death itself, right?” Storm said.

Ronin’s face grew solemn. “Yes. Death himself. And what does Death crave more than anything else?”

“Life?” Storm said, almost unsure of his answer.

“It’s almost romantic,” said Ronin, “but in many other ways, not at all. No one knows why Death’s sole purpose is to find Life, but he will not relent, not in ten-thousand cycles or even after an eternity. It is because of this desire to end Life, and the danger she faces, that our race was born into this world. We are the shields, guardians of an ancient goddess, and it is in protecting her that the many great wars have come to be.”

“And Life is Lady Vale, right?” Caim asked.

Ronin nodded, taking another drink of his wine. “She is indeed.”

Storm looked up at the clear blue skies. “I see what you mean,” he said. “It’s a devastating battlefield out there, isn’t it?” He tried not to smile, and Caim shot him an angry look.

“There is always a very long moment of peace separating the wars,” said Ronin. “And it is during these times of peace that Death recovers, always growing stronger than he once was in the process. Because of his infinitely increasing power, the other five gods of the cosmos aid in the protection of Lady Vale. However, we are the final trump card. He has bested all five of the other gods at once before, and he has, no doubt, grown considerably stronger since the last Éiéndrahk so long ago.”

“So, what you’re saying is that Death is the strongest thing in existence,” said Storm. “I’m inspired to keep training already,” he added sarcastically. “What a joy, to live only to fight Death. Yay.”

“You should be,” said Ronin, meeting Storm’s eyes. “Because you will meet him.”

An icy shiver ran down Storm’s spine as he heard the words, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. “Jeez, talk about grim, old man. I think I’m starting to understand why your Inner Depths is the way that it is.”

Ronin let out a faint smile. “Although Death is inconceivably powerful,” he continued, “there is one other being I haven’t mentioned. Something that is even more powerful than Death itself.” He took a long drink of his wine as Storm and Caim waited eagerly for him to continue.

“There is one . . . a myth or legend of sorts, known by many names, but one more so than others—the Dragon King.” A strange unseen magic seemed to inhabit their space, as if just mentioning the name summoned a celestial presence.

“The Dragon King,” said Caim. “What is it?”

Storm could tell that this was one of the rare moments in which Caim’s attention had been fully grasped. He tried not to smile, nor feel bad for his brother. He was always infatuated with anything half resembling a legend or fairy tale.

“It is the legend of legends, Caim,” said Ronin. “The greatest savior of our world, of all worlds. The last guardian of the Goddess of Life. No one knows who or what it is. Some believe it rides upon the wings of Night and Day, forever watching her, protecting her.”

“No way . . .” said Caim, completely spellbound.

Storm sat silently, highly skeptical. He’s told us this story before, thought Storm. And he didn’t make it seem like it was something so real. So why now? Why is he changing the tone of it? Did he think we weren’t ready to hear this before?

Ronin met Caim’s gaze. “As you boys grow older and venture out into Soria, you’ll notice that most people either disregard the great wars or live in a pretend world where they never happened at all. This is our past. It is the truth, and just because one would do well to fear what will come eventually, that does not mean one should pretend the threat doesn’t exist.”

“Why do they pretend it doesn’t exist?” Caim asked.

“Sometimes it can be hard to believe something if you haven’t witnessed it for yourself.”

“Maybe it doesn’t exist.” Storm smirked. “Have you ever seen one of these great wars?”

Ronin sat for a very long moment, completely silent before answering. “Yes,” he finally said, and Storm blinked, unable to believe his answer. “I was maybe only a little older than you boys are now, and although I only glimpsed a part of it, it is something I will never forget.”

“Then, it wasn’t that long ago . . .” said Caim, wondering. “Wait. How long ago was it?”

Storm laughed. “Now you’re asking him to prove he’s an old man.”

Ronin gave him a look. “Time is relative, especially to us. But if you’re worried about the next great war happening again soon, rest assured, it won’t be for a very long time. Each Éiéndrahk is separated by about a thousand cycles of peace. And because our race is immortal to time, there are some firstborn; sorians who have been alive since the Creation War, that have witnessed all seven wars.”

“There are sorians even older than you!?” Caim exclaimed.

Ronin shot him a look. “Yes, Caim. The old Lord Masamune is one of them.”

“I bet you are, too, aren’t ya?” Storm piped in. “A firstborn?”

“Not quite,” said Ronin. “The firstborn were all born with silver hair and gold eyes, so they are relatively easy to notice if you know what you’re looking for. Over the cycles our lineage and aesthetic heritage changed slowly over time, and now sorians can look quite different from how we did originally.”

Storm turned his head to look at his brother. At the same time, Caim was very slowly touching his own hair.

“If only you had gold eyes, Caim,” said Storm. Caim looked up with a new question on his tongue. “Maybe that means our real parents were firstborn?” Storm’s eyes blinked at the thought. He hadn’t thought about their real parents in a long time.

“It’s possible,” said Ronin, “but many of the firstborn were unfortunately killed in the great wars, and there aren’t many remaining. Besides, I would say that most of them live on Risia, and you boys were born on Falia.”

“I bet our parents are the coolest,” said Caim. “And its possible they could be firstborn! It is! Wow, what a thought . . .”

Storm was quiet as his mind pondered over who his parents might have been and why they had abandoned him and his brother. He felt his mood slightly shift as the thought sat in the back of his mind.

“I doubt they’re as amazing as you imagine them, Caim,” muttered Storm.

Caim raised his hand, stroking an imaginary beard. “So, other than you, grandpa, there’s a bunch of gods that are really strong, then Death who is nearly unbeatable, but the strongest of all is the Dragon King? And he rides on the backs of Night and Day, the dragons from the story you’ve told us?”

“You’re as gullible as a child being read a bedtime story,” said Storm.

“Not everything is a fairy tale, Storm,” said Ronin. “It is widely believed that we are the great descendants of Night and Day, the first of the dragons that were born into existence near the beginning of things.”

“I never believed that story from the first time you told it. And I don’t believe in some fairy tale hero that rides on their backs either. Heroes don’t exist except in stories, and unless you show me one of these gods or these Dragon Kings, or whatever, I’ll never believe it.”

Ronin caught his eyes and held them. “This is the world you live in, Storm, whether you like it or not.”

Storm rolled his eyes. He had heard it all before. He looked down at his wrists, scanning the dark hollow that grew like natural armor from his body. For a quick moment, he contemplated it being true. Though strange, it wasn’t uncanny that dragons had the same eyes as they did.

I don’t believe it. Despite these small similarities, we are nothing like dragons.

“How come we don’t have wings then?” Storm asked. “If we are as you say, you know, descended from dragons and all, shouldn’t we look more like them?”

Ronin shrugged. “Like I said before, if you become strong enough, you will glimpse the wings.”

Storm clenched his teeth. He never knew if his old man was speaking the truth or blending it with the myths he knew Caim loved so much. “Convenient,” was all he said through gritted teeth.

“Na, grandpa,” Caim said, his tone hesitant. “Is there only one Dragon King?”

“No one knows for certain, Caim, but that doesn’t stop people from having their own beliefs. Some believe there is more than one Dragon King, each one being born during times of chaos. Yet, there are others who think there is only ever one, an eternal protector that watches over all realms indefinitely.”

“That sounds exactly like a myth to me,” said Storm.

Ronin looked at Caim and smiled. “Don’t listen to your brother, Caim. Maybe one day you will prove to the world that believing in something that doesn’t exist can make it exist.”

“So, I could become a myth, too?” Caim asked oddly, the thought having never occurred to him.

“All these tales stem from truth,” said Ronin. “And the more you come to learn about Soria, the more you will begin to see the truth in things that you once never believed possible.”

“Yeah, right,” said Storm. “And maybe one day Night and Day will fly down out of the sky and tell you bedtime stories about all the other worlds out there amongst the stars. And here I was thinking that we might actually get a decent answer to the question of who’s the strongest, but I guess I’ll have to wait for Death to start his next great war and the Dragon King to show up and then I can ask them myself.”

“It’s true, Storm!” Caim said, glaring at his brother. “What about the story of Fenrir? Don’t you think that’s true?” He had both of his fists clenched, and Storm knew he believed everything truly.

Storm let out a sigh. “It’s a cool story, Caim, but come on, he went down to the darkness to overcome himself? It rings true of every fairy tale we’ve ever heard.”

“Alright,” said Ronin, turning his eyes to Storm. “You asked a question. I gave you an answer. What you do with that answer is entirely up to you. But I think that there is something else that might answer the question better, at least, for now.”

Storm reached down and picked up a stone, then began tossing it up and down, waiting for Ronin to elaborate. Caim scooted closer on the grass, eagerly awaiting the next thing he would say.

“There is a tournament.” Ronin’s lips tensed. “A world tournament.”