SCENE 11 – HUMAN KINGDOM, NIGHTFALL – “Devil’s Eye Eclipse”

The camera pans slowly across a dense jungle canopy, dew glistening like crystals under moonlight. Crickets chirp softly, giving the night a heartbeat. Then, a crossfade to the grand human kingdom—stone towers, royal banners fluttering, and an eerie stillness as if the world itself is holding its breath.

Inside a lavish royal bedroom, dimly lit by a single floating crystal lamp, we see a young boy asleep—his fiery red hair spills over a silk pillow like molten embers. A soft hand brushes his bangs aside, followed by a gentle kiss on his forehead.

Blonde-Haired Lady (whispers):
"Good night… Crimson. See you later, little flame."

Her voice is filled with something warm and heavy—maternal comfort laced with a quiet sadness. She walks out slowly, her white and silver armor softly clinking as she moves. Her cape trails behind her, catching a glint of moonlight through the stained glass.

Now outside the towering castle walls, she steps into a quiet garden courtyard. The night is unnaturally still. She gazes upward, and her eyes widen slightly.

Lady (to herself):
"The Devil’s Eye Eclipse… so it wasn’t just a myth this year..."

The sky above is haunting—two moons align slowly, creating the illusion of a single, glowing eye staring down upon the world. The pink-red light from the larger moon bathes everything in an unsettling hue, while the smaller golden-white moon sits like a pupil in a watching eye.

Lady (softly, unsure):
"People say when it appears, blood follows... But tonight felt different..."

Her voice trails off as she hears it—footsteps. Soft. Precise. Predatory. Echoing against the stone paths of the courtyard. Her hand instinctively goes to the hilt of her blade.

She doesn’t turn around. The wind shifts, carrying with it a chill and the faint scent of burning incense.

Lady (tense):
"...You shouldn't be here."

From the shadows between two pillars, a tall figure steps forward. His skin is pale as if drained of warmth, and his eyes are sharp slits beneath long black lashes. A midnight-blue cloak flutters around him, embroidered with silver arcane patterns.

The pink moonlight paints his face in eerie contrast, his expression unreadable.

Kealvor (voice smooth as velvet):
"Ah… but the moon is watching, and the veil is thinnest on nights like this."

The lady doesn’t hesitate—she summons her magical sword in a flash of white light. The runes along the blade pulse in reaction to Kealvor’s presence.

Lady (firm):
"Kealvor. What are you doing here?"

Kealvor steps closer, unarmed, hands raised casually as if this was merely a conversation between old acquaintances. His presence is oppressive—like gravity tightening around her.

Kealvor (smirking):
"I came to witness fate. And to remind you... some flames were never meant to be protected."

Her eyes widen slightly. Her grip tightens.

Lady (angrily):
"If you lay a hand on him—"

Kealvor (cutting her off, whispering):
"Too late for that, dear knight."

The wind howls suddenly, and the pink moon seems to flash like a camera shutter, freezing the scene in dread