Framat never truly has a dawn.
Heavy clouds, grey and greasy like old oil, blanket the sky, dimming the light so thoroughly it feels as if the sun is nothing more than a distant memory. The tattered flags fluttering on the city gate mostly belonged to expeditions that never returned—each flag a half-sung verse. And within those fortress walls, Mira—sixteen years old, eyes shimmering with the light of dead stars—was preparing for her final journey.
She had lived as an explorer: sleeping on sun-scorched stones, eating cursed roots, laughing amidst the groans echoing from ancient wrecks. More than once, she had to choose between saving a friend or saving herself. And now, facing the Forbidden Land—the Black Continent—Mira felt no fear. Only cold.
That morning, she went to the Deep-Eye Market in search of Bael—the one known as "he who knows maps that do not exist." He was sitting inside an overturned barrel, surrounded by synthetic mist meant to throw off mechanical flies.
> "I want the latest route to Somber Mirage Port. And intel on the Dead Waters."
Bael curled a smirk, eyes dry and stony as gravel, fixing his gaze on Mira.
> "The Black Continent has no gate. It's a crack. Once you step in, this world will no longer be yours. You'll be nothing but a name etched in stone—if anyone remembers."
Mira said nothing. She simply opened her map and pointed to a perilous route that cut through the Echoing Body Waters—where an expedition of 72 had vanished just three months prior.
Bael clicked his tongue, then handed her a map made of blood-soaked silverhide leather—resistant to etheric interference.
> "That's everything. Who're you going with?"
> "Elen."
The name dropped like a stone into a dry well. Bael said nothing more. His eyes dimmed, and finally, he murmured:
> "If you ever see a petal mark appear on your body… be careful."
---
That afternoon, Mira walked to the explorers' graveyard, where the wind always blew in reverse and grass never grew past the ankle. That was where she had arranged to meet Elen.
Elen had arrived early. He was sitting beside two shallow, hand-dug holes—not deep, but just enough to bury a name. The setting sun split his face in two: one side human, calm as aged wood; the other bearing a demonic flower-eye with eight petals, flickering like cold fire.
> "I thought… if we don't make it back… we should still have graves." – Elen's voice was flat, like reciting someone else's poem.
> "Yeah." – Mira replied, handing him a sharpening stone.
They sat together, carving their names onto two flat stones they had picked from the slopes of the Silent Valley. Mira carved first:
> Mira – age 16
Elen let out a quiet chuckle and then wrote:
> Elen – age 17
By the time the two stones were planted in the soil, sunset had just kissed the hilltop. A strange wind passed through, carrying the scent of ocean brine and burnt ash—like a warning. Mira laid a hand on her own grave, the stone cold as the hand of the past.
> "Are you afraid?" – Elen asked, eyes fixed on the demon flower that blinked in his left eye.
> "Yes." – Mira answered honestly – "But being afraid doesn't mean you don't move forward. If no one walks ahead… the world will never open even an inch."
Elen bowed his head, then stood.
> "I've finished what I needed to at the academy. Now… I only have one task left: to protect you until the very end."
Mira smiled. For the first time in years, it didn't feel like a cold smile.
---
When night fell, they returned to the small inn on the edge of the city.
Mira stepped into Elen's room. It was dark, lit only by candles placed around an old iron chair. Elen sat motionless, surrounded by instruments of torment—hooks, needles, bone-binding rings, blood-siphoning jars. But none were meant for punishment. They were for control.
> "You're still… doing this?" – Mira bit her lip.
Elen didn't turn his head, just answered quietly:
> "If I stop, the demon inside won't sleep. It will drown me. And it'll drown you too."
Mira stepped forward and laid a hand on his shoulder.
> "You don't have to be a good demon. Just be Elen—the one who used to watch the stars with me."
For a fleeting moment, the candlelight flickered. The golden glow illuminated two children who once lay on a bed of straw, eyes turned to the heavens, dreaming of a continent no one truly knew the shape of.
---
Kael Vandros
"The moon is beautiful tonight."
"It reminds me of the time I was still on the Black Continent—a true nightmare, that Curse."
"But it also taught me about the ancestors of demons."