Those four words pierced the weakest hearts and moved many of the spectators to tears.

“He danced until he was utterly exhausted, creating beings that could be like him… immortal individuals, each gifted with a mask: the first generation of deities.”

The storyteller had kept his audience enthralled with his tale so far, so he decided to continue. The young listeners, seated around the fire, watched with bright eyes and pounding hearts as he painted a vivid picture of the primordial world and the gods who inhabited it.

“So, the first generation consisted of four deities: Vion, the sky; Vela, the earth; Galia, the ocean,” the young man cast a quick glance behind the audience, but the woman had vanished, “and Decaros, the underworld.”

“What happened to them?” some of the listeners asked.

The storyteller hesitated for a moment. “They…” but before he could continue, a hand rested on his shoulder.

The female figure, who had been hidden in the darkness of the night, had given him a rather clear warning. The young man, nearly frozen in place, lifted his gaze and met her amber eyes.

It was Aena, the goddess of love. One of the twenty-four immortal deities of the last generation and the very owner of the Lilies Park. At such close proximity, he could now notice the golden details of the mask that covered her face.

Everyone fell silent as they felt her presence, radiating an aura of majesty and divine power.

The woman stepped closer to the fire, her mask reflecting the flickering flames. With a melodious voice, she said, “I believe that is enough for tonight.”

The storyteller, respectful of the goddess, nodded. He did not seem surprised at all, as if he had anticipated this moment. His tale had already captured the young listeners’ imaginations, and though they got up with a hint of disappointment, they did not protest.

Aena smiled gently before adding, “Of course,” she continued, “if you wish to hear the full story, you will have the chance to do so when the cosmology lessons begin in mid-September.”

The young audience nodded—some excited, others slightly disappointed—but they accepted her offer with gratitude. Despite their eagerness to know the rest of the story, they understood that the storyteller’s version could never be as detailed as that of a teacher.

The goddess of love offered a second smile to the newcomers, but her penetrating gaze, even through the mask, betrayed an expression beyond her serene demeanor. The young ones were both confused and enchanted by her aura of mystery and beauty.

A solemn silence fell over the Lilies Park. The spectators, all still gathered around the fire, bowed deeply in a sign of respect.

After the gesture, the people made their way home, leaving the storyteller and the goddess alone. The young man stepped closer to the fire, his face shadowed by a hint of melancholy. With a fluid motion, he drew in the flames until they vanished completely, a feat made possible by the powers he had inherited from his father. He silently watched the last glimmer of light that had illuminated the evening.

Aena, noticing the storyteller’s somber expression, approached him with a light step. She stopped beside him, first looking at him with affection, then with sternness.

“What are you thinking about?”

The Blendbreed lifted his gaze to the sky, the starlight illuminating his face, etched with experience and battle scars. In a hushed voice, he replied, “Just old memories.”

His eyes drifted toward a distant statue still under construction. It depicted four young Blendbreeds who were now long gone. The masterfully sculpted work captured the tetrad, ready for battle. Immortal in their youth, yet lifeless. Only memories—silent witnesses of a troubled past.

“I couldn’t let you continue. You made an oath that cannot be broken. Do you still remember that?”

“I know, and I hate myself for accepting it,” he murmured, unable to meet the goddess’s gaze. “But there’s no need to worry. I’ll make things easier for you by leaving this place.”

Aena placed her hand on the storyteller’s shoulder once more. “There’s no need to go that far,” she said, but he brushed her off, unwilling to be deceived by such pretenses.

“I promised to keep my memories, and I was forced into this pact, but now I’m done,” he said as he stood up. “The others have moved on, and it’s time I did the same.”

Aena remained silent. The storyteller turned to face her, gathering all the courage he could muster.

“From now on, solve your problems without dragging your children into them. Being heroes only leads to death—whether by the hands of monsters or by yours.”

Without waiting for a reply, the young man walked away toward his home. As he did, a light breeze sent a shiver through him.

It was just a strange feeling, but he sensed a change in the air.

A new era was on the horizon.