Sarah
Sarah was a seventeen-year-old girl whose innocent features concealed a world full of secrets and tragedies. Standing 165 cm tall and weighing no more than 54 kg, she seemed like a gentle breeze amidst a looming storm.
Her light blonde hair fell gracefully to her shoulders, with subtle waves that appeared to be woven from sunlight itself, reflecting a fleeting innocence lost with the passage of time. Her strikingly large blue eyes were windows to her weary soul. Anyone who gazed into them felt as if they were staring into a winter sky, where clarity and mystery intertwined.
Her skin was pale, as if carved from the snowy peaks surrounding her kingdom. Her appearance held an unusual blend of delicacy and strength. She wore a simple gown made of faded blue linen, long enough to graze the ground as she walked. Golden embroidery adorned the edges, giving it a regal touch despite its simplicity. A leather belt cinched her waist, accentuating her slender frame while hinting at her readiness for the unknown.
Sarah grew up in a humble family, nestled among the mountains and forests at the kingdom's borders. The loss of her parents in a tragic accident had left an indelible scar on her soul. Her mother, Ellen, was her sanctuary, weaving tales of nature and its mysteries, while her father, Geoff, inspired her with his wisdom and patience. As for her younger brother, Leo, he was the light that brightened her isolation, even though he often struggled to understand the depths of her emotional world.
Despite her quiet demeanor, Sarah possessed a restless mind-a mind capable of unraveling symbols and interpreting dreams, making her feel as though she straddled two realms: reality and the hidden truths lurking beyond it. Within her lay a profound fear, a fear of loss that haunted her deeply.
In a world besieged by forces of darkness, Sarah stood as a beacon of hope, as if she were a fragment of nature itself, an essential piece of the balance the world sought to restore. Yet, in her eyes, the eternal question lingered: "Which will prevail-light or darkness? And will I have the strength to make a difference?
Elisa (Sarah's grandma)
Elisa was like a living history book, her features narrating hidden tales of a distant time that had long vanished. The wrinkles etched across her face were more than mere marks of age; they resembled a map bearing the weight of wars fought, victories celebrated, and ancient struggles known only to those who had lived through them. Her pale skin seemed to carry the shadows of centuries past, and her ash-gray eyes held a faint glimmer of both wisdom and fear, as if they had witnessed secrets too heavy to be shared.
Her long, white hair cascaded like a stream of melting snow, tied back with threads of worn fabric that added an air of peculiar majesty. Her fingers, thin and trembling slightly, resembled the gnarled branches of an ancient tree. Yet, they seemed strong when they clasped her wooden staff. The staff itself appeared to be a relic from another time, carved with mysterious symbols, as if it bore fragments of a forgotten family legacy.
She wore a heavy woolen shawl in faded colors, reflecting the simplicity of village life. Yet, it seemed as though it had once witnessed days of grandeur and momentous events. Her voice, a blend of softness and authority, carried the weight of old tales with every word she spoke. It was the kind of voice that transported listeners to a realm of mystery and wonder, submerging them in a world brimming with intrigue.
Despite her frail appearance, Elisa exuded an aura of authority, as though she were a queen without a crown. In the village, she was regarded as an irreplaceable figure of wisdom and counsel. When she spoke, silence would envelop the room-not merely out of respect but because her words carried an enigmatic power that captivated hearts and minds alike.
Night had fallen gently over the village, enveloping it in a profound stillness. The wind danced through the trees of the surrounding forest as if whispering ancient secrets no one could decipher. The moon struggled to pierce through the heavy clouds, casting faint silver beams that caressed the forest's edges and reflected on the snow-covered ground. In the air lingered a palpable sense of solitude and unease, as though the place itself awaited something unknown.
Inside one of the old stone houses, the glow of the fireplace flickered against dark walls, painting shifting shadows. Sarah sat cross-legged on the floor, wrapped in a worn woolen blanket. Her blue eyes, deep and reflective, were fixed on her grandmother, who rested in an aged wooden chair. The grandmother leaned on her cane, her gaze distant, as if she lived in a time long past.
In a soft yet weighty voice, the grandmother began to speak:
"In a time long forgotten, my dear, there was darkness... Not like the night we know, but a living entity. It crept into villages, engulfing them and swallowing them whole."
Sarah, her gaze locked on her grandmother's, felt a shiver crawl down her spine. Outside, the wind grew fiercer, as though echoing the grandmother's words.
"A darkness that moves, Grandma?" Sarah whispered, clutching the edges of her blanket. "Can darkness walk?"
The grandmother gave a faint smile, but her eyes carried the weight of untold stories.
"It didn't walk, Sarah... It flowed, like water... deadly water. Everything it touched turned to ash."
With trembling hands, the grandmother pulled back a cloth, revealing a large, ancient book. Its pages seemed alive, pulsating with an unspoken energy. She opened it cautiously, turning the delicate parchment with care. Inside were illustrations of a glacial mountain amidst a raging storm, warriors clad in heavy armor wielding raised swords, burning villages, and flames leaping toward the heavens.
Pointing to the mountain, the grandmother said in her deep, somber tone:
"This mountain... It is said to be the last place where the heroes stood. Here, they made their final stand against the darkness."
Sarah leaned in closer, her fingers lightly tracing the icy peak in the drawing, feeling an inexplicable chill as if the cold itself emanated from the pages. Her heartbeat quickened, as though she was touching a fragment of another world.
"And did they win, Grandma?" she asked quietly, her voice tinged with a strange unease.
The grandmother paused, her eyes clouding with sorrow as she looked at Sarah. Then, with a voice choked by emotion, she said:
"Some say they succeeded... but others believe the darkness was never defeated. It retreated, biding its time, waiting for the perfect moment to return."
The following morning, Sarah walked beside her mother through the bustling marketplace. The ground was dusty, yet the air felt charged with tension. People exchanged wary glances, speaking in hushed tones as though afraid their words might be overheard. Something was amiss, even as life appeared to carry on as usual.
Rumors rippled through the market like an undercurrent, whispers among the craftsmen and merchants:
"The darkness has returned... Villages in the south are vanishing, one by one."
"Vanishing? How?" Sarah asked, her curiosity piqued and her heart uneasy.
"No one knows. But witnesses say the night there isn't like any night... It's heavy, suffocating, as if it steals the very breath from you."
Sarah stepped back instinctively, her pulse quickening. She felt as though the world around her was shifting, and those whispers carried the weight of something ominous.
....
Night fell once more, and the wind outside howled unnaturally, carrying faint, unintelligible murmurs. Sarah sat by her window, her eyes fixed on the sprawling forest beyond. The trees swayed in an eerie rhythm, as if watching her every move. A deep pressure gripped her chest, as though the forest itself was alive and stirring.
"Grandma..." Sarah whispered as she crept into her grandmother's room. But the old woman was fast asleep, her room bathed in the pale glow of moonlight. The winds outside howled louder, their voices haunting and strange.
When Sarah finally drifted into an uneasy sleep, she found herself in a strange place-a land blanketed in snow, cold and unyielding as stone. Before her stood a towering glacial mountain, its surface shimmering with a ghostly glow emanating from its icy crevices. A faint whisper echoed in the air, soft yet threatening:
"Soon... very soon."
Sarah jolted awake, her breaths rapid and shallow, her face damp with cold sweat. Outside, the wind roared, its intensity unsettling.
Lying in bed, she tried to calm herself, but sleep evaded her. That ominous whisper-"Soon..."-lingered in her mind, a haunting refrain. The moon disappeared behind dark clouds, and the winds grew wilder, their cries akin to wails.
Suddenly, a faint beam of light streamed through her window, emanating from the direction of the forest. It was no ordinary moonlight-it pulsed, dimming and brightening like the rhythm of a heartbeat. Sarah stared at it, frozen in place, as though under a spell.
"What is that?" she murmured, her voice barely audible. She felt an inexplicable pull to rise and follow, but her mind screamed for her to stay. Yet, almost against her will, she found herself moving toward the window, her trembling fingers pulling back the curtain.
The light emanated from deep within the forest, dancing among the trees, which seemed to sway in response. In that moment, Sarah felt something shift within her-a strange, unshakable sensation. It wasn't merely fear; it was something deeper, like a call.
Before she could fully comprehend what she was seeing, a voice echoed inside her mind. This time, it was clear and unmistakable, yet unearthly:
"It's your time, Sarah... The mountain awaits."
She stumbled backward, her legs buckling beneath her. She fell to the floor, the world around her spinning. Her gaze darted to the door, the thin boundary separating her from the outside. She felt as though she was standing on the precipice of two worlds. The darkness beckoned, and deep down, she knew this was only the beginning of a journey that would change her forever