CHAPTER V: The Boundary

Dark clouds stretched endlessly before me, rain pouring in relentless waves. My horse galloped at full speed, its hooves pounding against the soaked earth as we cut through the storm. Water blurred my vision, but I did not falter. I did not hesitate.

The cold wind lashed against my skin, and my drenched cloak clung to me like a second layer of flesh. Yet I urged my horse onward, unwavering. I had a purpose. I had a destination. And I would reach it.

Then-suddenly-silence.

The storm vanished the instant I crossed into the barren lands. The world behind me still roared with wind and thunder, but here, there was nothing.

No rain. No wind. No sound.

I pulled on the reins, slowing my horse to a trot as I surveyed the land ahead. A vast expanse of dry, cracked earth stretched as far as my eyes could see. No grass, no trees, no sign of life-only dust and jagged rocks, scattered like forgotten relics of a time long past.

This place had been abandoned by nature itself.

And I knew why.

Because it is the Boundary.

The land where the Mortal Realm ended, and the Shadow Realm began.

My horse let out a restless huff, sensing what lay ahead. The thick fog towered before me like an unbreakable wall, dark and dense, concealing whatever lay beyond. It was said that no mortal had ever glimpsed what was behind it.

I dismounted swiftly, my boots sinking into the brittle earth. The dry soil cracked beneath my weight, the sound sharp in the suffocating silence.

The air here was different-unnatural. It felt heavy, thick, charged with something ancient.

I exhaled slowly, rolling my shoulders to release the tension in my muscles. There was no fear in me, no doubt. I had come this far. I would not turn back.

The fog loomed before me-an unbroken wall of shifting darkness. It towered above me, stretching endlessly into the sky. The mist swirled unnaturally, as though alive, whispering in voices I could not comprehend.

It was said that this fog was no ordinary mist. Those who entered without unwavering resolve would be lost, trapped in an eternal maze until their bodies withered and their souls faded. But those who possessed true will-those who belonged-would find the path beyond.

I was not afraid.

I stepped forward.

While facing the fog, my thoughts drifted back to the beginning of all things. The history passed down by our ancestors, the story written in the sacred texts, the one we were all taught to believe.

At the dawn of existence, before the stars burned and before the lands were formed, there was only the Divine Creator. The One who was and would always be. He was not born, nor would He ever fade.

In His infinite wisdom, He willed the Goddesses into existence-His daughters, radiant and eternal, to guide what was yet to come. To each, He bestowed dominion over the fundamental elements that would shape the world.

The Goddess of Fire, fierce and untamed.

The Goddess of Water, ever-flowing and deep.

The Goddess of Air, swift and unbound.

The Goddess of Land, steadfast and nurturing.

Together, they forged the world as we know it, weaving sky, sea, and earth into existence.

And then, from His own hands, the Divine Creator formed the first mortals-beings of flesh and will, free to carve their own destinies. To them, He gifted intelligence beyond compare, granting them dominion over the land. Thus, the Mortal Realm was born.

But as the mortal race flourished, something unexpected occurred.

The Goddesses, watching over the world, began to love the mortals-not as divine caretakers, but as women. And so, from the union of the divine and the mortal, a new race was born.

The Veilborn.

Neither fully god nor wholly human, they were creatures of extraordinary beauty, their forms radiant, their presence ethereal. Their eyes shimmered like the heavens, their skin was kissed by the divinity of their mothers. Their abilities surpassed that of mortals, yet they were not gods. They belonged nowhere-caught between two worlds.

The Divine Creator, seeing what had been done, decreed a separation.

He split the world into two realms:

The Mortal Realm, for those of pure mortal blood.

The Shadow Realm, for the Veilborn, to live apart, neither ruling nor ruled.

A King and Queen were chosen to govern the Shadow Realm, just as the Mortal Realm had its own royal line. For centuries, the two realms coexisted in harmony, bound by the Ancient Accord, ensuring neither would interfere with the other.

But peace did not last.

The King and Queen of the Shadow Realm succumbed to darkness.

Their desire for power grew insatiable, and they turned against the mortals, seeking to rule over all realms. They waged war against the first mortal King, Ephraim Yvraendre, even seeking to use his own son, Prince Agape, against him.

But the war did not unfold as the Shadow King had planned.

Prince Agape had been in the Mortal Realm when the war erupted, visiting his father, and was shielded from the battle. King Ephraim protected him, ensuring his survival. And when the war ended, with the fall of the Shadow King and Queen, it was Agape's lineage that continued in the Mortal Realm, leading to the establishment of the Yvraendre Kingdom.

The Veilborn, however, were punished.

Their once radiant forms were twisted into monstrous shapes. Their beauty was stripped away, their skin blackened and cracked, their eyes hollow pits of glowing embers. No longer the children of gods, they became cursed creatures, exiled into the darkness.

The Veil was woven, an impenetrable barrier sealing them within their forsaken land, ensuring they would never again threaten the Mortal Kingdom.

This was the history we were told.

This was the truth we believed.

Cold, damp tendrils clung to my skin, seeping through my clothes. Shadows swirled in the mist, whispers slithering past my ears, voices I could not understand. The path behind me vanished within seconds. There was no turning back.

I walked forward, undeterred. Each step was deliberate, unwavering. I could feel the mist attempting to pull me in, to swallow me whole, but it could not-would not. My determination anchored me. The fog was not my prison.

And then, just as suddenly as it had consumed me, it thinned.

The mist began to thin.

And before me, at the very edge of this forsaken world, stood the Veil.

A shimmering, translucent barrier, vast and impenetrable. It was unlike anything mortal hands could craft, stretching endlessly in both directions. It did not shimmer with light, nor did it reflect-it simply existed, humming with an eerie, quiet power.

This was the final threshold.

I pulled the parchment from my cloak, fingers steady, and whispered the incantation written by Melor's hand.

The air quivered. The symbols on the page pulsed.

A sliver of the Veil parted, just enough for me to pass.

Without hesitation, I stepped forward.

The land was dead, yet it was not silent. A lingering presence coiled through the air, as though unseen eyes watched from the shadows. Towering ruins stretched toward the sky, remnants of a kingdom long abandoned.

"So this is the Shadow Realm..." I whispered to myself.