Titan's eyes widened with sudden, terrifying realization. He looked from the blood-spattered faces of the unconscious youth to the dead cattle nearby.
"This… this is no ordinary illness…" he muttered, the soldier's logic instantly overriding his personal grief and anger. He knew a plague when he saw one, but this was darker, faster, and utterly unnatural.
Without wasting a moment in panic, Titan—the last surviving man of the Bravon Clan—acted. He gently but firmly lifted Mama Rubberon, Flexo, Elios, and Gracia, arranging them across his massive, armored shoulders. His body trembled violently under the impossible weight of four near-lifeless adults, a burden heavy enough to crush a regular man. Yet, his determination never wavered. Deep within, he had always dreamed of becoming a story warrior—someone whose name would be etched forever in history, not just for revenge, but for impossible acts of saving others.
He was uniquely equipped for this desperate task. His father had sacrificed his life to protect Gracia, and his mother had perished years earlier due to the devastating radiation unleashed by Savior. But from his ancestors, Titan had inherited a clan blessing: a faint, pulsing blue power shield that shimmered imperceptibly over his armor and skin. This shield made him miraculously immune to airborne poison. That was the only reason he could safely carry the dying, acting as a human, armored ambulance.
He started running, his powerful legs pumping through the black sand, looking for any sign of a healer, any sanctuary, any place the relentless curse could not reach.
But suddenly, Mama Rubberon, whose body was racked with spasms, managed a final, desperate act of will. She slipped off Titan's shoulder deliberately, wrenching her arm free and forcing herself to the ground, clutching her chest in severe, agonizing pain.
Titan's voice cracked with raw panic as he turned, unable to stop running but unable to leave her. "Hey, Granny! What are you doing?! This is serious!"
She couldn't speak clearly; her mouth was filled with the metallic taste of blood and mucus. Yet, her mind was focused on one final, selfless mission. She forced herself to stumble and crawl toward the dying cattle that lay strewn across the field.
Most of the herd was already gone, their bodies still, eyes dull and defeated from suffering. But Mama Rubberon didn't give up. Those simple cattle were her companions, the gentle beings that had comforted her through the long, lonely nights after her husband's death. They represented the few simple, pure things left in a world corrupted by the Savior.
Summoning every ounce of strength left in her frail, aging body, she reached out. She stretched her arms, using the last remnants of her inherited elastic power to wrap around the necks and legs of as many cattle as she could manage. Her inherited powers were now far weaker than Flexo's, dulled by age and the lack of the strengthening Clan Ring. Only the clan leader held that sacred artifact, and that title belonged to her son, Flexo Rubberon.
Still, she kept moving, dragging nearly a dozen animals behind her, her throat raw as she called out for help to anyone she saw in the quiet, dusty streets.
But no one came forward.
People wanted to help; they stood in their doorways, their faces pale with pity and fear. But they knew the poison could spread through the air, and they remembered the terrifying fate of the last rebellion. Fear held them back, causing them to turn away and pretend not to see the tragedy unfolding right outside their walls.
Titan pushed himself past the breaking point. His powerful muscles screamed, and his vision tunneled. Finally, his endurance snapped. He collapsed near a massive, ancient, glowing Chandelier tree—the only structure on the island that seemed truly alive. He released his three passengers, his knees hitting the ground, his chest heaving with exhaustion. Mama Rubberon, dragging the fifteen loyal but lifeless cattle behind her, also fell beside him, trembling uncontrollably.
Exhaustion, grief, and the insidious curse consumed them all.
AWAKENING IN THE SANCTUARY
A few hours later, Elios stirred awake. The pain in his chest had subsided, replaced by a strange, tingling coolness. His eyes slowly opened to a soft, ethereal green light filtering through thick, enormous leaves that hung down like jungle vines.
He saw Gracia, lying still but breathing regularly—her body gently covered from neck to foot with large, shimmering emerald leaves. The same care was given to Flexo, whose rubbery body lay relaxed on the earth, also swaddled in the green foliage. Only Mama Rubberon rested silently beneath leaves that were already brittle, white, and dried.
The significance of the white leaves didn't register at first. Instead, Elios gasped, the air catching sharply in his throat. "HAAAH!"
His eyes caught a vision that made the madness of the island feel real again: a young woman floating a few feet above the ground—or at least trying to. She was beautiful, dressed in simple white cloth, but her concentration was clearly failing. After thirty seconds, she lost focus entirely and began to fall, but an old man with a long white beard and eyes that sparkled like fresh water swiftly moved and caught her before she hit the ground.
"Skylara! You must focus when channeling your wind, child!" the old man scolded softly, helping her stand with gentle patience. "Your Aether must be a current, not a hurricane!"
Titan Bravon was sitting a few steps away, his blue-armored body leaning against a root, watching their training silently, his expression unreadable.
Then, the old man turned—his deep blue eyes instantly lighting up with warmth and compassion.
"Oh! You're awake, son! Thank goodness you all were under my tree!" he said with a genuine, comforting smile.
Elios blinked in confusion, his eyes trying to process the strange sanctuary. The man lived inside a vast, perfectly rounded hollow in the trunk of the tree—the Chandelier Tree—its massive wood forming walls around them. Everything—the beds, the pungent herbs, the faint glowing lights—was organic, carved, or grown directly within that sacred, ancient tree.
The old man gently approached Elios, his hand moving to touch the youth's fevered forehead, checking for residual poison.
Elios, overwhelmed by the sight of the floating woman, the massive Titan, and this living house, could only stare. This island, this Wonderfaa, was far stranger—and far more alive—than he had ever imagined.
"You were infected by the Black Stone curse," the old man explained softly, sensing Elios's silent questions. "But the Chandelier Tree draws death back into the earth. It saved you."
When Elios finally found his voice, he pointed toward Gracia and Flexo. "How... how are they?"
The old man smiled kindly, running a finger along the vibrant green leaves covering them. "They're healing well. The young man's flexible body absorbed the Aetheric shock better, and the girl's connection to nature helped the leaves draw out the poison faster."
THE SECOND CURSE: GRIEF
A great wave of relief washed over Elios, immediately followed by the resurgence of agonizing guilt. His eyes fell on the figure lying silently under the brittle, white, dried leaves. He already knew the answer before he asked.
"What about… Mama Rubberon?" Elios asked, his voice cracking, barely loud enough to hear.
The old man's smile vanished completely, his face becoming a mask of deep sorrow. His eyes lowered to the ground. "I'm sorry, son. She's gone."
Tears, sharp and hot, instantly welled up in Elios's eyes, a fresh surge of grief and guilt. He closed his eyes against the image of Mama Rubberon's desperate face, her final, selfless act.
"She had great willpower," the old man continued softly, laying a comforting hand on Elios's shoulder. "But she fought the curse too long, outside of shelter, and her immunity was low. By the time that young warrior, Titan, brought her here, she and all the poor cattle she had dragged were already gone. Her spirit was willing, but her body had failed long before she reached safety."
Silence filled the tree hollow, thick and painful. Titan, usually so focused on his revenge, stared at the ground—torn between admiration for Skylara's effortless use of Aether and the quiet, familiar grief that still lingered from his father's own sacrifice. He had failed to save them both.
Gracia and Flexo lay motionless on leaf-woven beds under the dim green light, their fates still hanging in the balance.
Elios finally gathered himself, the necessity of survival forcing him past his sorrow. He wiped his face with the back of his hand and thanked the old man with a trembling voice. "Thank you… for saving our lives. My name is Elios Laston."
The old man's eyes, which had been so filled with melancholy moments before, snapped open wide with genuine astonishment. His mouth curved into a puzzled smile that was entirely unexpected.
"Well, that's quite the coincidence, young man," he chuckled, the sound deep and warm, completely cutting through the heavy atmosphere. "My name is ELIOSA LASTON.."
Elios's jaw dropped, his grief and guilt instantly overridden by a single, seismic shock of revelation. His breath caught in his throat.
"WHAT?! LASTON?!… WHO ARE YOU?!"
The silence that followed was not one of death or sickness, but of a mystery finally shattering, revealing a truth Elios had chased across an entire ocean.