Everywhere you look, it is shrouded with brightness today. The light warrior, Salva Snowwhite, is currently battling the dark shadow, Zia Riverbrook.
Salva is a Grade One Warrior, revered for her courage—known across nations for leading rescue after rescue. The crowd cheers her name with blind faith. On the other side stands Zia, a figure of whispered legends, cloaked in silence. The media had claimed she had never fought before, only watched... waited.
But something doesn't feel right. There's an itch in the air, a dissonance.
Was it the way the Dark Shadow remained perfectly still, almost at peace, even with blinding beams of light raining around her?
Was it the light itself, falling not like hope—but like ash—bright, yes, but oddly heavy, making the skin tingle and the soul shrink?
Was it the people, their faces tilted to the sky, entranced, not by courage or fear, but by something... otherworldly—as if something was whispering in their heads?
Was it how Salva's light didn't push back the darkness from Zia—but rather seemed to feed on it, like wind to flame?
What was it?
No one knew. But somewhere deep beneath the brightness, something darker than darkness stirred.
Even as I watched the troops ready themselves to back her up—tightening their grips—the only thing I could do was stand and watch.
The crowd murmured behind me.
"The fight seems to be intense."
"No doubt! The Light Warrior will return victorious."
"This world will be saved."
Their words felt hollow, like echoes bouncing in a sealed room.
But I wasn't so sure.
Not anymore, As the dark shadow made eye contact with me.