"She's coming... just a little more, ma'am."
"She's born. It's a boy..." —a soft, emotional voice replied.
A woman with dark hair, named Roxy, cradled the newborn in her arms, her face filled with tenderness. Beside her, her husband, Aron, made funny faces at the baby, trying to make him laugh.
"Sleep, little Greg..." —murmured Roxy, gently stroking her son's head.
Suddenly, a voice was heard from outside the room: "It worked..."
Five years later, Greg's family had settled in Dragon Village, a small town celebrating the peace achieved after the war that had ravaged the continent a century ago. The air was filled with festivities, and the sound of people laughing and conversing blended with the morning birdsong.
A visitor arrived at the Breyrat home.
"Hello, Mr. Aron, we'd like to invite you to the Day of the End event, in honor of the war that ended 100 years ago," said the man with a warm smile.
"Oh, I see. We'll definitely attend. How can we help?" —replied Aron, surprised by the visit.
"We've heard you're a skilled swordsman, even a former member of the Graydon guild. We'd love for you to do a demonstration of your skills here in the village. What do you think?"
Aron exchanged a glance with his wife, Roxy, and nodded confidently.
"I'd be happy to participate!" —he responded.
The day of the event arrived, and the whole village gathered to enjoy the festivities. Excitement filled the air as Aron performed an impressive demonstration with his sword, leaving the villagers awestruck by his skill. The most amazed was Greg, who watched his father with wide-eyed wonder, feeling admiration for the first time.
But the most intriguing part was the arrival of an elderly man known in the village.
"Hello, how are you! I see we have new faces in the village. My name is Winston," said the man, wearing a long cloak and carrying a staff that seemed to have centuries of history.
"Hello, Mr. Winston. I'm Roxy, Greg's mother, and this is my husband, Aron," —replied Roxy, giving him a warm welcome.
"Are you little Greg?" —Winston said, looking at the boy with a curious gaze.
Greg, shy, nodded, keeping his gaze low.
"Hmm... I see. Greg, you're already six years old, aren't you?" —asked Winston.
Greg nodded with a nervous smile.
"I've been watching you from afar, little one. There's something peculiar about you. That mark on your shoulder... do you know what it means?" —asked Winston, staring intently at the strange mark on Greg's shoulder.
"My mom says it's a birthmark. It makes me special..." —replied the boy, a bit confused.
Winston stepped a little closer, his face growing serious. "It's not a common mark... It's something much deeper."
A few days later, Winston visited the Bleyts home, apparently seeking answers about the mysterious mark on Greg's shoulder...
"Hello, Mrs. Roxy, is your husband home?" —Winston asked kindly.
"Oh, hello, Mr. Winston. Aron and Greg went to the village, but tell me, what brings you here?" —Roxy responded, somewhat puzzled by Winston's visit.
"I wanted to talk about young Greg's mark," —Winston said, his voice serious.
The atmosphere around the scene grew tense. The question left Roxy silent, as if she'd seen a ghost...
"I see... so it was this... I suppose someone would eventually ask about it," —Roxy said, her voice filled with worry.
"Mrs. Roxy, please tell me what happened six years ago when Greg was born. I just need to understand why that mark feels so familiar to me," —insisted Winston, staring at Roxy, seeking an answer.
Roxy lowered her gaze, clearly uncomfortable, and began telling the story, her voice calmer yet hesitant.
"Six years ago, when I was about to give birth, something strange happened. In the blink of an eye, a loud crash shook the house, like lightning had struck nearby. The sky suddenly darkened, and the storm began to roar, full of thunder and lightning. It was a terrifying feeling. I had to keep giving birth, and when Greg was born, the storm immediately stopped, and the sky began to clear, giving way to a beautiful sunrise..."
Roxy paused, and sadness reflected in her eyes. It was clear that continuing with the story was difficult for her.
"Shortly after Greg was born, something happened that I still don't fully understand. A strange man, covered in mist that obscured his face, began approaching our house. Just by his presence, it felt like everything had come to a standstill. This man, strange and mysterious, had the same mark that Greg now bears. But he had it all over his body, on his arms, his face, everywhere. He introduced himself as... Brishka."
Upon hearing the name "Brishka," Winston froze. His eyes began to tremble, and his hands began to sweat as if he were feeling a deep emptiness in his stomach.
"B-Bri... Brishka... But he's just a myth, I never imagined he was real," —Winston murmured, his voice trembling, as his gaze wandered to a distant point.
Roxy continued, unaware of the shock her words had caused.
"Then, the man said... 'Where is Gregory Breyrat?'"
"Who are you?" —Roxy asked shakily, unable to comprehend what was happening.
Brishka moved toward them with a cold, piercing gaze. Aron, who had been resting until then, quickly stood up when he heard the alarm in Roxy's voice. Seeing Brishka, he drew his sword, ready to defend his family.
"STOP, ARON, COME HELP ME!" —Roxy cried out in desperation.
Aron charged at the stranger with all his strength, but Brishka merely glanced at him. Without lifting a finger, Brishka's force knocked him down with such violence that Aron couldn't even get up. Roxy, paralyzed by a strange energy, watched helplessly as the mysterious man approached her son.
"STOP, PLEASE, WE'LL GIVE YOU WHATEVER YOU WANT!" —Roxy shouted, desperate.
"Silence," —Brishka said in a low, authoritative voice.
The power of Brishka was so palpable that both Roxy and Aron stood motionless, as if the weight of the entire world was upon them. Roxy tried to move, but it was futile; her body was completely paralyzed.
Brishka looked at little Greg with a cold smile.
"So, this is Gregory, I see..." —murmured Brishka, his gaze fixed on the child.
The stranger approached and lifted Greg in his arms. As he did so, his eyes glowed with an otherworldly intensity.
He said—"I, Brishka, grant you this power that was entrusted to me, so that you may rid this world of evil. Now go and do it, Gregory Bleyt" —he said, and in the blink of an eye, disappeared, leaving Greg's parents terrified and their hearts heavy with dread.
Back to the present:
"And that is the origin of the mark Greg bears... Since that day, we decided to move," Roxy concluded, her voice low.
Winston looked at her intently, processing the story.
"I see... Well, Mrs. Roxy, that's all I needed to hear. Thank you for your time."
Winston was preparing to leave when suddenly Roxy stopped him, calling out anxiously.
"PLEASE, WAIT, SIR!" —Roxy said urgently. "Do you know what that mark on Greg means? If you do, please tell me. Who was that Brishka?"
Winston looked at her, knowing he could no longer hide the truth. He asked her to stand up.
"Mrs. Roxy, please stand. I'll tell you something they told me when I was young. It was said that Brishka was a reincarnation from a past life. It was said that whoever saw him was destined to receive the mark he carried, a mark that connects them to a greater purpose. That mark your son has... it's the Divine Key."
"The... the Divine Key? The one that tells the stories of the war..." —Roxy stammered, trembling.
"But they said it was destroyed by the demon god... how is that possible?"
"That's the same thing I wonder..." —Winston responded with a somber expression.
"Well, I will leave. I advise you to cover your son's mark. Those who know the story might recognize it. The war told in the myths began because of that very mark."
After this unexpected visit, Roxy felt more worried than ever about Greg. She wondered if perhaps they should leave the village, as they had done before. But before making any decision, she needed to talk to Aron and figure out what to do.