The days after the Harvest Festival were strangely quiet. The laughter that had once filled Miran's air now settled into murmurs — a mix of awe, curiosity, and unease. Hope had returned, yes, but so had something else: fear of what they could not explain.
Amara felt it in the way people looked at her — not with kindness, but with questions they were too afraid to ask. She couldn't blame them. Even she didn't fully understand what Lori was or where he had come from. She only knew that when he smiled, the world felt lighter, and when he spoke, her heart steadied like the surface of calm water.
One morning, she visited the old temple on the hill — a place long abandoned since drought had silenced the village's faith. The doors hung crooked, and ivy crept through cracks in the stone. Inside, dust swirled in the dim light that filtered through the broken roof. Amara had gone there seeking peace, but instead, she found something else.
Behind the altar, half-buried beneath fallen debris, lay a sealed chest, small enough to carry but heavy with age. The lock had rusted away. With trembling fingers, she pried it open. Inside were old scrolls wrapped in faded cloth. She lifted one carefully — the parchment fragile, the writing ancient. The letters shimmered faintly in the light, written in the old tongue that few still understood.
Amara could read little, but the temple caretaker — a quiet man named Ronan — had once taught her some of the sacred words. She traced her fingers along the script, whispering as she deciphered:
"When the earth grows weary and men forget the dawn, a bearer of light shall walk among them.He shall not rule but awaken.He shall not command but remind.And when his purpose is fulfilled, he shall fade, leaving the flame in the hearts of all."
Her heart pounded. The words echoed through her mind like a bell. A bearer of light… awaken… fade.It could only mean one thing — Lori.
She pressed the scroll to her chest and closed her eyes. "So it's true," she whispered. "He was sent here."
But if the prophecy was true, then his coming was not meant to last. That thought struck her like a blade of cold wind. She wasn't ready to lose him — not when hope had just returned.
That evening, Amara showed Lori the scroll. They sat by the river, its waters glowing faintly in the starlight. Lori read the words silently, his expression calm.
When he finished, he looked at her with soft eyes. "This speaks not of one person, Amara. It speaks of us all."
"But it fits you," she insisted. "The light, the healing, the river — even your name. Lori, you are the bearer of light."
He shook his head gently. "Perhaps for now, I carry the flame. But the purpose of light is not to be kept — it's to be passed on. What good is dawn if it never becomes day?"
Amara frowned. "Then you'll leave us?"
He hesitated, then said quietly, "When the light finds a home in every heart, I will no longer be needed."
His words filled her with sadness and wonder all at once. She wanted to argue, to beg him to stay, but deep inside she knew — he didn't belong to Mirana alone.
Still, others would not see it that way.
Meanwhile, in the council house, Elder Taren sat in the dim glow of the oil lamps, listening to the fearful murmurs of the other elders.
"The crops have changed too fast," said one. "It's unnatural.""The river moves without rain," added another. "This is not the work of men."Taren's hand gripped the table. "You all see what I see — the people bow to him now. They no longer seek my counsel. They call him blessed. If we allow this to continue, our ways will vanish."
"What do you suggest, Elder?"
Taren leaned forward, his voice a low growl. "Faith must not rest on one man. If he is true, he must be tested. If he is false, we must protect our people."
A plan began to form — one that would expose Lori, or destroy him trying.
That night, Amara could not sleep. The words of the prophecy haunted her, mingling with Lori's calm smile and the elder's cold stare. She stepped outside, wrapping herself in a shawl. The village was still, save for the soft murmur of the river.
Lori sat nearby, his reflection flickering in the water. He looked up as she approached."You should rest," he said gently.
"So should you," she replied.
They sat together in silence for a while, watching the moon drift through clouds.
"Do you ever wonder why you?" Amara asked softly.
He smiled faintly. "Why any of us? The light does not choose because of worth, but because of willingness. Anyone can shine if they choose to love instead of fear."
She looked at him then — really looked — and felt something she couldn't name. Something between faith and love, between awe and sorrow.
And in that quiet moment, she realized: the light he spoke of wasn't only around them. It was inside her too — waiting to awaken.
But far across the river, hidden in the trees, Elder Taren watched them from the shadows, the glint of anger in his eyes. In his heart, the first ember of hatred began to burn — a dark mirror to Lori's light.
The battle for Miran's soul had begun.