A rustling sound of sword fighting came to a sudden halt.
"You think you're ready, Ruel?" The old man's voice was calm, but his eyes betrayed a subtle tension.
Ruel, breathing heavily from practice, wiped the sweat from his brow. His features - a blend of youthful determination and the weight of a destiny thrust upon him - turned toward the old man.
Since the day his parents died on an exploration mission, this man had been there for him. Not with ceremony, but with quiet meals, hard training, and a roof shared with his only daughter, Avana. He was the only family Ruel had left. And Avana… well, she had become something like a sister. A reliable friend.
Ruel let out a heavy sigh. "Old man, it isn't a question of whether I'm ready..."
A hint of surprise flickered across the old man's face, quickly masked by a stoic resolve. He knew Ruel was right; their society demanded this of its youth, to join the ranks of the explorers, to become the vanguard in their unending quest.
"I am glad you understand," the old man said, his voice tinged with both pride and sorrow. "No matter the sacrifices we endure, it will all be worth it in the end. If not in your generation, then the next. Go wash up and rest. Tomorrow, you meet your team and embark on your first mission."
* * * * *
In a quiet, dimly lit chamber adorned with symbols that spoke of traditions too old to understand, the elder paced nervously.
The exploration captain watched patiently, finally speaking when the silence grew too heavy. "Do not worry, Elder. I'll take care of the recruits and the team. Nothing will go wrong. We've been doing this for too long."
The elder halted, sighing deeply. Age had etched permanent weariness onto his face. "All these years... generations lost, and still no closer to ending this nightmare." His voice trembled slightly. "How many more young lives must we sacrifice? How much longer until we break?"
"Until we find the solution," the captain answered firmly, conviction sharpening his tone. "The children know their duty, we all do, and accept it."
"Accepting duty doesn't lessen the burden," the elder replied softly. "May the gods bless all of us - though lately, I wonder if they even care."
The captain bowed slightly, recognizing the elder's weariness, and departed, leaving him alone to his thoughts. The elder's gaze drifted toward the open window. The darkness outside was as oppressive as the corruption they battled daily.
"How much longer can we fight?" he whispered to the silence, feeling the insidious tug at the edges of his consciousness - a reminder of his own internal battle.
* * * * *
Morning arrived gently, a contradiction to the heavy anticipation hanging over the village. Even the sea held its breath. No bells rang. No laughter stirred.
The air was crisp, salty from the nearby sea, mingling with the distant aroma of wildflowers. Today, the adolescents of the village would become adults - joining the exploration crew and departing on their first mission, to confront the ancient curse that had haunted their people for generations.
Ruel dressed carefully, the routine a small comfort against the unease curling in his chest. He glanced around his small, familiar room - every item a quiet witness to his childhood. Today, that life would end.
When his parents died on one of the explorations, he knew that this day would come, and it would be his turn to contribute to the village. "Mom, dad, I…"
A sudden knock interrupted his thoughts.
"Ruel!" The familiar voice was muffled yet unmistakable. Avana's enthusiasm always carried through. "Come on! They're gathering already!"
He opened the door to find her standing there - cheeks flushed from running, silver hair flowing freely in the morning breeze, eyes bright yet shadowed by a familiar worry.
She had always been a constant in his life, an anchor. But today, she felt strangely distant - framed not just by the sunlight, but by the weight of what was to come.
And for the first time, she wore a dress.
"You ready?" she asked, her voice softer than usual. It wasn't a question, not really - more an offering of comfort. The light caught her then, and for a moment, her appearance seemed to tear through the limits of what a mortal could be.
"As ready as I'll ever be." Ruel forced a smile, her beauty momentarily numbing the dread he carried. He exhaled and stepped forward—not into sunlight, but into fate.
Together they walked through their village towards the square, past faces etched with quiet pride and solemnity. The weight of their ancestors' and their hopes bore down heavily upon them, as tangible as the sword now strapped at Ruel's side.
Ahead, the captain stood with the current crew of a couple dozen, awaiting the new recruits. His gaze was firm yet compassionate, fully aware of the journey these youths were about to undertake.
Ruel took a deep breath, his heart pounding. From a corner of his eye he could see the old man, his expression unreadable. "Avana, thank you for coming with me." He knew his life was about to change, though how exactly, he could not yet imagine.
Today marked the start of something - he only hoped he could live up to it.
* * * * *
A few moments later, an elder stepped out from the crowd and onto the stage. The murmurs of the villagers died down into a hushed silence, tension hanging in the air like mist before a storm.
An elder must always appear composed, a pillar of reassurance. Yet as he walked to the center of the stage, his steps were heavier than they had ever been. His thoughts churned. Every year, this repeats. And each time, I wonder... how many more can I watch leave? Why have the gods forsaken us? But as he looked out over the gathered crowd, his gaze lingered on the fresh faces of the new recruits. Something in him stirred - resolve, perhaps, or a fading spark of hope. The sunlight caught the lines of his face, casting him in a noble glow, and for a moment, he appeared almost divine.
"Today," he began, voice firm yet weighted with emotion, "marks your passage into adulthood. If it were up to us, the villagers, we would let you stay. We would wish for you to live peaceful lives, to fall in love, to raise families. But the world outside does not afford us such luxuries."
He paused, sweeping his eyes across the crowd.
"We are prisoners to the curse."
A murmur rippled through the crowd—some nodding, others avoiding eye contact.
"Bound to this land by a power we do not understand. And every year, we send more of you into the dark…"
The words hung heavy. Even those who had heard them before felt the weight anew.
"For generations, we have been bound to this land, trapped by a power we barely understand. The exploration team was formed in the hope of breaking this curse. Yet every year, we lose more than we gain. The greatest threat is not what lies beyond our borders - it is the corruption within us. It is born with us, and it grows."
He took a breath, slow and deliberate.
"Venturing beyond the village awakens the corruption sleeping inside. It empowers... but it also erodes. Eventually, it consumes. No matter how strong you become, the end is always the same - madness, death, or worse. And yet... we must go on."
The elder bowed, his spine creaking with the strain, but the motion was deep, humble, and reverent.
"Children - no, warriors - thank you for your sacrifice. We will endure. We will break this curse."
As he rose, the village erupted - not in joy, but in fierce, desperate celebration. Applause and cheers roared through the square. It wasn't for the day itself, nor for tradition. It was for hope. It was for legacy.
Children in the crowd cheered for the recruits as if they were heroes, eyes wide with admiration. They dreamed of standing there one day, bearing the weight of generations.