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Arc 1 - Blind Faith
Blind Faith - Elyra
Written by - Ellien S. Vorein
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Twelve horses .A carousel toy. Spinning.
The room was empty. Utterly empty.
No walls. No floor. No ceiling.Just black — a darkness so deep it devoured depth itself.No matter where you looked, there was no end.
The space bent inward, silent and infinite — like a black hole pretending to be a room.
And in that darkness, the only thing that existed was the carousel.
It moved by itself.No strings. No gears. No sound.Just motion — slow, deliberate, endless.
The wooden horses circled through the void, their chipped bodies catching light that didn't exist.Each rotation scraped against the silence, echoing faintly, like a memory that refused to fade.
Twelve horses.
Three were marked — not carved, not painted, simply marked.Their colours bled faintly — crimson, white, and blue — fading in and out like dying stars.
They kept spinning.Even when the others began to slow.Even when the carousel itself started to crack.
And when the last of the unmarked horses fell still —only the three continued turning.
Round and round.
The void trembled.
And then —the sound of rain.
- - -
When she opened her eyes — the universes held their breath out of respect.For a single heartbeat, everything was still.And then the rain remembered how to fall.
Her lashes trembled; a droplet traced down her cheek — the last echo of a storm that had almost erased her.
She blinked slowly, the world returning in pieces:the faint scent of moss and smoke, the sound of waves licking at the stone,and warmth — steady, human, close.
Someone was holding her.The boy's breath was uneven, his arms tight around her as if afraid she might fade if he let go.He was soaked — trembling — covered in dirt and lake water.But his eyes — they weren't looking at her.They were looking through her.
She tried to speak. Her throat burned.The words came out faint, scattered by the sound of the wind.
"Where…"
The girl looked around, dazed — her eyes were blue like snow, yet bright like the ocean, staring at her chipped fingernails, at the water, at the sky.
"Am I…"
Her voice was small. The question fell apart halfway through.Her head was pounding — the world spinning too softly to feel real.
The boy didn't answer straight away.He only stared — like he wasn't sure she was real.
He scanned her up and down. She was short, slim, yet her presence carried a strange softness —the kind of innocence that made the chaos around them feel almost quiet.
Her pink hair clung to her face, the shade matching her skin so naturally it almost looked as though light itself had chosen her colour.
The small, delicate crown upon her head glimmered faintly — elegant yet awkwardly small against her damp hair, like a relic from nowhere.
Kairo stumbled for words."You're…"
She tilted her head slightly and looked at him with a quiet eagerness.
Silence.
"This is La—" He stopped, the word catching halfway through his throat.His voice faltered, unsure, lost somewhere between confusion and disbelief.He swallowed, tried again. "Who… are you?"
Her lips parted. For a moment, she looked frightened — like the answer should have come easily.Her gaze drifted downward, fingers brushing her chest as if searching for something that wasn't there.
"…Elyra," she whispered."My name's Elyra… who are you?" she asked, her voice soft with innocence.
He blinked. "My name…?"
The question echoed in his head.Not her voice this time — theirs.The villagers. The stares. The whispers that followed him everywhere.
Abynt.Abynt.Abynt.
He froze.The word tore through his mind like the crack of thunder — a name, but not his. A curse disguised as one.
Kairo.
He forced the word out under his breath, quiet and unsure, as if reminding himself it still belonged to him.He said it again, steadier this time — almost embarrassed.
"Kairo."
"Wait… you said your name is Kairo?" she asked, her tone lifting with a faint, curious passion — as though there was weight behind the name.
Kairo blinked, caught off guard. "Uh… yeah. Why?"
"I've never heard that name before. It sounds… cool."
She smiled, soft and sincere, and reached her hand out towards him.
He froze again.A hand — not raised to defend, not trembling in fear, not ready to strike —but a gesture of friendship.
It felt so unfamiliar.
Slowly, hesitantly, he raised his own.His black suit sleeve was still damp as his fingers closed around hers.Her hand was warm. Small. Real.
He shook it.
For the first time in years, he didn't feel like a stranger in his own skin.
They stood in silence, the sound of the waves fading into the distance.Above them, the sun began to set — the light spilling across the cliffs, warm and endless.It caught her face just right, turning her skin to gold, her eyes to soft glass.
For a brief, impossible moment, everything felt peaceful.
Nothing else came.Not where she was from, not why she was here — only her name, fragile on her tongue, as if even that might disappear if she said it too loudly.
The only thing that moved was the rain.Falling softly.Endlessly.
And somewhere — beyond where light and silence meet — something vast and watching smiled.
***
The trees swayed gently as droplets slipped from their leaves, landing on the girl's pink hair as they wandered down the hill.Her smile was so bright it caught the boy off guard — that kind of light felt foreign to him.
He scanned her quietly, the delayed realisation dawning on him.A crown… royalty?Was he really standing before a princess?
"So… you only remember your name?" he asked, trying to sound calm but failing to hide the focus in his voice.
She thought for a second, tilting her head. "Eh… yeah."
Kairo glanced over her clothes, then at the small crown resting awkwardly on her head. "Your clothes, your crown… I've lived in Lagos my whole life, and I've never seen anything like that."
She looked at him with this strange curiosity — like she expected him to say something profound."Are you… part of the royal family of Velronia or something?"
She stopped in her tracks.
Silence.The wind died.Raindrops froze mid-fall.
Her smile faded to neutral.The glow in her eyes dimmed — like someone had turned off the light inside her.
Kairo's heart sank.He hadn't meant to upset her.
Slowly, she lifted her head."…What's that?" she murmured, tilting her head to the side, one finger twirling gently through her pink, wavy hair.
Her expression was pure keenness and confusion — almost childlike, as if the question itself was foreign to her.
He sighed under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck.What's with her…?
The tension in his chest eased slightly as he fiddled with the cuff of his black sleeve, trying to calm himself.
"It's uh—wait, you seriously don't know what Velroni—"
The sound came before the sight.The air shifted — a faint hum threading through the rain, sharp enough to slice through thought.
He moved before he even processed it — arm shooting out, shoving her to the ground as something cut through the silence.
A curved blade tore past them, grazing his shoulder and ripping through the side of his black suit.The cut was clean — too precise to be a mistake.
Fabric fluttered through the air like torn leaves before the wind swallowed them.The tree behind them split in half with a low, splintering crack.
"Wait, is that thing—?" she muttered, wincing as she sat up and brushed the dirt from her dress, one hand adjusting her crooked crown.
Kairo's breath hitched. He glanced down at the torn edge of his jacket — the Weaver's mark unmistakable.
He looked up. Through the drifting mist, a tall, thin silhouette stepped forward — its frame insect-like, its joints clicking softly with each motion.
"A Weaver," he muttered under his breath."They hunt for fabric — rare clothes, expensive dyes, silk, suits… anything woven. I should've expected them."
He'd seen them before in the drier seasons — snipping at travellers' cloaks, stealing scraps from washing lines.But this wasn't the right time, or the right place.
It's evening…They don't roam when it's this damp.
"…It's ugly," she said suddenly, her voice quiet but laced with faint disgust — as if she couldn't decide whether to be disturbed or unimpressed.
He frowned. The thing's shell shimmered faintly in the mist — not green, not silver.Red.
Why is it red—
Light flared.
He barely raised his blade in time.Steel met chitin, sparks scattering.
The blow was aimed higher — for his head.He staggered back, boots skidding through the mud.
No. That wasn't for my clothes.
The creature's head tilted, slow and deliberate.Its red eyes glimmered faintly, like coals buried under glass.
For the first time that evening, Kairo realised — it wasn't scavenging.It was hunting.
He leapt backwards, the world blurring around him. The Weaver vanished from sight.
Then —a flash.
It was already behind him.
Was that… magic?No — impossible. Weavers didn't use magic.
Just before the creature's claws kissed Kairo's lips, a shard of water tore through the air, slamming into the Weaver's chest and hurling it into the mud below.
The impact cracked the earth — a low, wet thud echoing through the rain.
Kairo hit the ground hard, boots slipping as he caught himself.His blade trembled in his grip.He stared at the fallen creature, breath ragged.
Wait… what was that?
He turned — and froze.
Floating beside her shoulder was a small, crystal heart, glowing a faint jade green.Light rippled across its surface like water catching sunlight.
Tiny droplets orbited around it, suspended mid-air, pulsing softly with every breath she took.
A faint sound filled the air — like singing, yet quiet, delicate, and almost pretty.It wasn't loud enough to hear clearly — more like a hum the world itself was trying to remember.
When did she… have that? Where did it come from?
Elyra looked at the crystal — not surprised, not frightened.Just quiet.Her gaze softened, as if she recognised it, yet couldn't remember when or why.
For a moment, the rain caught its reflection, scattering green light across her face.
The heart gave a final soft note — almost like a sigh — before flickering and fading into mist.
She blinked slowly, tilting her head as the silence returned.Her nose scrunched slightly.
"…It's creeping me out," she murmured.
Kairo stared at her, still catching his breath.He couldn't tell if she was serious — or if that was just her way of making sense of what she'd done.
He looked down. The Weaver's red shell was dissolving into the mud, steam rising faintly where it touched the rain.The same green light — faint, ghostlike — still shimmered across the water where the crystal had been.
In all of Lagos, no one had ever seen light like that.Not once.Not in stories.Not in dreams.
The wind shifted again — soft, uncertain — as if even the world was holding its breath.