The darkness was thick that night, but I was not afraid of it.
I was just a child back then, barely six years old, sitting alone at the edge of the cliff overlooking the valley of "Valira." The sky above me was ablaze with stars, but even their light couldn't penetrate the coldness that surrounded my soul.
My world—"Valira"—was not a merciful land. Its harsh mountains and thorny plains reflected the nature of its people; a tribe that only recognized strength. This world was divided among countless clans, each struggling to establish its dominance. My clan, the "Kriva," was the strongest of them all.
Strong because of my father.
My father was the clan leader, a man who was invincible in battle and merciless in his rule. They said he brought greatness to "Kriva" with his sword alone. But he never saw me as his son.
Rather... a threat.
I always felt different. It was obvious even before I understood what "the curse" meant.
On the day I was born, they said the sky split in two, and a mysterious voice echoed throughout "Valira." No one saw that as a sign of good.
And they weren't wrong.
"No one wants you here."
I remembered those words, whispered countless times, whether by the old women's murmurs or the grim looks in the eyes of the warriors. They thought I didn't understand... but I did.
It wasn't just hatred. It was fear.
One night, when I was four years old, things began to change. I was playing near the river, trying to light a small fire like the other children, but what I unleashed wasn't an ordinary flame.
My hands had caught fire with dark energy. A cold power, unlike anything natural.
At first, I didn't understand what had happened. But my mother saw it. She looked at me as if I were a being born from nothing.
After that, they began trying to kill me.
Poison in my food... traps hidden in my paths... Once, I woke up to find a dagger aimed at my throat.
But I didn't die.
Every time they tried to take my life... I came back stronger.
And each time, the fear in their eyes grew.
They whispered behind my back:
"Cursed."
"Something that must be disposed of."
"Even his father won't protect him for long."
But my father never protected me.
I remember the last time I looked into his eyes. I was eight. I had accidentally injured one of the senior warriors when he tried to strike me. I broke him. I saw his bones emerge from his skin...
At that moment, he summoned me.
I stood before him in the stone throne hall, where the fates of the clan were drawn. He was holding his old sword, the one with which he had torn through his enemies' thrones.
He spoke to me without looking: "You are a mistake."
"But I…" I tried to justify myself.
He interrupted me, his eyes like ice: "Nothing good can come from your existence except destruction. You will not be my heir."
His words carved deeper into me than any dagger ever could.
I had been seeking acceptance. But he gave me rejection.
Since that day... I stopped searching for anything.
I awoke from my memories, and the cold still wrapped around my body.
I was sitting in the forest, where I withdrew after my battle with "Lilith." The pain still pierced my shoulder, even though the arrow was no longer there.
I looked at my hand. The energy that once flowed from me seemed to have disappeared. I was weaker than I should be. Weaker than I allowed myself to be.
I shouldn't have been like this.
I clenched my fist, feeling the shadow of those words whisper in my mind:
"Nothing good can come from your existence except destruction."
I raised my head to the sky, where the clouds parted to reveal a faint light.
I whispered a single word, barely audible to anyone but the darkness: "Miden."