The rain fell softly on the night the Blackwood family's child was born.
The midwives grew uneasy.He did not cry.He did not kick.He made no sound at all.
He only watched.
—He… he isn't crying… —his mother whispered, her voice trembling, her eyes filled with tears.
—Is he alright? —his father asked, looking at the midwife.
Wrapped in soft cloth, the baby gazed at them with an impossible calm.
His eyes—silver-gray—resembled mist illuminated by moonlight.
The midwife nodded, still clearly surprised.
—There is nothing to worry about, Lady Elyra. His heart is strong. It's as if he feels no fear… as if he has already seen this world before.
Pale but smiling, Elyra took the child into her arms. Elian knelt beside her, murmuring a prayer through quiet tears.
—It's as though he brought calm instead of tears —one of the village women said, crossing herself.
Silence filled the room.
It was not fear.It was reverence.
The newborn seemed to have arrived carrying an ancient light in his gaze.
Elian held the child carefully. His voice trembled, though he did not know why.
—If you are a gift… then your name will be Elior. —He closed his eyes, smiling through restrained tears.— It means "God is my light." Because even if God remains silent, this child will be the light that never fades.
The clouds parted for a brief moment, and the moon illuminated the humble house.The silver glow in the baby's eyes shone brighter, as if answering his father's words.
The village of Velmira held no more than a hundred souls, yet it seemed to shelter an entire world.
Surrounded by golden fields and crystal-clear rivers, it was a corner of Geheris where time moved slowly—like an eternal prayer.
There, Elior Blackwood grew up.
Dark brown hair.Eyes of ancient silver.
Quiet, but never cold.
He smiled easily, found joy in the smallest things, and spent his days helping his father in the carpenter's shop or accompanying his mother to the temple, where the candles were never allowed to die.
Everything changed the day Liora was born.
She had her mother's smile and emerald eyes, along with her father's dark curls. When Elior held her for the first time, something inside him cracked softly… like a wall collapsing without a sound.
From that moment on, he never left his younger sister's side.
He promised himself he would do whatever it took to ensure she would never lose the radiant light in her eyes.
Time passed swiftly.
Every afternoon after school, Elior would run to play with Liora—among sunflowers, on makeshift swings, or carrying her on his back when she grew tired.
—Fly, Liora! —he laughed, lifting her into the air.
—Higher, Eli! I want to touch the sky!
—Only if you promise not to stay up there —he replied with a smile.
She laughed loudly.And he laughed with her.
The Blackwoods were beloved by everyone.
Elyra always had warm broth ready for the sick.Elian carved symbols of faith to comfort those who suffered.
Even the elders said that family was a blessing sent to remind them that God was still there.
One afternoon, while Liora slept clutching her ragged bear and her mother cooked nearby, Elian watched his son. Elior was focused, carving a wooden dragon for his sister.
—Son… do you know something? —his father said softly.— Sometimes I think you listen to Heaven.
Elior looked up, confused.
—Why would you say that, Dad?
Elian smiled.
—Because your eyes don't only see what is… they see beyond.
—I only carve what I see —Elior replied, without lifting his gaze.
His father chuckled quietly.
—No, my son… you carve what has yet to come. And not even prophets can do that.
Elior didn't fully understand.He simply lowered his head and continued carving the dragon.
He did not believe in stories.
But he believed in his sister.
And for him, that was more than enough.