Bryan paced back and forth, his thoughts racing as he tried to make sense of what he had just witnessed. The faint glow of the bead stone seemed to pale in comparison to the brightness now reflected in his own eyes. Slowly, the confusion and disbelief on his face gave way to an expression of pure determination and exhilaration.
"I've never seen anything like this," Bryan muttered under his breath. Then, he stopped and looked at the elders, his voice steadier now. "I think I've read about this phenomenon before. It's written in the ancient books of our ancestors—a one-in-a-million occurrence. A child born with dual elements." He took a deep breath, his words measured and deliberate. "This… this isn't just rare. It's a divine blessing upon our village."
The two elders, seated across from him, exchanged glances. The younger of the two, a stout man with a sharp gaze, leaned forward. "Are you certain, Chief? Dual elements from birth? Even in the old records, it's said to be more myth than reality."
Bryan nodded, his confidence unwavering. "When I saw Arya awaken his fire element, I thought our village was incredibly fortunate. Fire alone, especially tied to an ancient bloodline, is an incredible gift. But now… this." He gestured toward the bead stone, which still faintly glimmered with traces of both fire and water. "Fire and water—life and death. Together, they are forces of creation and destruction. If Arya can master them…" His voice trailed off, his imagination painting vivid pictures of an unstoppable force. "The potential is limitless."
The elder with the white beard, his hands trembling slightly, adjusted his glasses and spoke in a tone filled with awe. "To think that such a gift would appear here, in our small village, after centuries of decline. It's as though the heavens themselves are giving us a chance to reclaim our place among the great powers of the Seedling World."
Bryan's expression hardened as he turned to both elders. "And that's exactly why we must guard this secret with our lives. Only the three of us can know. Not even Arya's mother should hear of this."
The younger elder frowned. "You're sure about this? She is his mother—she has a right to know."
Bryan's voice lowered to a whisper. "The less people know, the safer Arya will be. You know as well as I do that news like this spreads like wildfire. If the Crimson Fang Clan—or any of our enemies—catches wind of this, they'll stop at nothing to destroy him before he can grow strong."
The room fell silent, the weight of Bryan's words settling heavily over them. The elder with the white beard finally nodded, his voice firm. "You're right. This news must stay buried, for Arya's sake and for the village's future."
The younger elder sighed but eventually relented. "Very well. This secret dies with us."
Bryan exhaled slowly, relief mingled with a renewed sense of purpose. "Good. The gods have given us a chance to rebuild, to rise again. But it's up to us to protect this gift. If we falter, we lose not just Arya, but the future of our people."
Meanwhile, Arya stood quietly nearby, his young face a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty. He had heard parts of their conversation, though much of it was beyond his understanding. Still, a small ember of hope began to flicker within him. Could he truly be as special as they were saying?
Bryan turned back to the elders, his voice steady but resolute. "From this moment on, Arya's destiny is ours to protect. No one else must know. The future of our village depends on it."
As the elders nodded in solemn agreement, a faint breeze swept through the room, carrying with it a sense of foreboding. Far beyond the village, unseen eyes and unknown forces stirred, as though the world itself was preparing for the arrival of a storm. Arya's journey was only beginning, and the challenges ahead would test him—and those who sought to protect him—in ways none of them could yet imagine.