It had been five years since our family found the baby in the forest.
Despite Edward's efforts to investigate the nearby villages, not a single clue turned up. Eventually, even he came to accept the truth—the child had been abandoned.
Clara gave the boy a name: Elias, meaning light.
He looked nothing like the poor children of the village. His sharp features, snow-white hair, onyx-black eyes, and pale skin made him stand out like a flame in the dark.
Clara grew attached to him, so deeply that she rarely let him out of her sight. Sometimes, she wouldn't even allow him to go outside.
Edward, though he had once wished for a child of his own blood, accepted Elias—for Clara's happiness.
He taught him how to carry wood and offered him simple sword lessons in the clearing behind their home.
But what truly captivated Elias were books.
Especially those about magic and history.
Unfortunately, the family owned only twenty books—a prison of paper for a mind as curious as his.
---
That afternoon, Elias reached for a new book.
Its title was faded, buried beneath a thin layer of dust:
"The Glorious History of Gravemire."
"This one looks interesting…" he whispered.
He brushed the cover with his hand and began to read.
The book glorified kings and praised the kingdom.
It told only of victories, pretending failure had never existed.
And yet…
Elias could see more than the words.
It was as if he could glimpse the sentences the author had written, then erased.
---
The Kingdom of Gravemire had been founded 650 years ago, after humanity wiped out three other races.
In a century of peace, the kingdom rose to economic dominance.
Just as it was about to rule the seas, the "Dark Age" began—a time of chaos and war.
No land, no sea, no sky was safe anymore.
Now, Gravemire remained the continent's second-strongest military and first-ranked economy.
But its wealth only reached the noble class.
The rest lived in poverty, crushed under a system that never saw them.
---
"Reading again?" a voice called out.
Elias turned to see Edward, shirtless and dripping with sweat from hard labor.
"Father… If Gravemire is this rich, why do people leave our village just to find work in the city?" Elias asked.
Edward blinked in surprise, then laughed.
"I ask myself the same thing," he said, ruffling Elias's hair.
There was something in this child—a quiet rebellion, a hunger for justice—that reminded him of himself.
But then his smile faded.
"Don't ask that question in front of strangers," he warned.
A moment later, Clara called from the kitchen:
"Dinner's ready!"
---
They gathered at the table: hard bread and thin soup.
Still, they were better off than most.
Some villagers couldn't even find bread.
This was the reality of Gravemire.
A kingdom gilded with gold on the outside, and rotting within.
Uprisings flared up often—but they were all silenced with blood.
Each month, hundreds fled to the capital, only worsening the crisis.
---
After dinner, Edward and Elias went to the forest to chop wood.
On the way, they passed several villagers returning home.
"It's good to see you, honorable knight," said an old man, shaking Edward's hand.
"Our village is safe because of you."
Edward offered a faint smile. "I'm no knight anymore. Please don't call me that.
And without your help, we'd struggle too. Thank you."
The words stirred memories—the battlefield, the screams, the blood.
Edward had always feared death.
Even with strength, his fear had become chains around his soul.
He once took a blade to the gut. He barely survived. Since then, he'd never worn armor again.
Lost in thought, he turned to see Elias swinging a wooden sword playfully.
That's when he saw it—the stares.
Villagers watched Elias with fear… and disgust.
But Elias didn't seem to notice.
Edward stepped in and led him away.
There was a strange hatred toward the boy in the village.
No one in Gravemire had white hair.
No poor child had ever looked so beautiful.
The hatred wasn't really hatred.
It was fear.
Even Edward had felt it once.
White hair was rare—even among elves.
And for years, the kingdom had taught its people: anything unnatural is demonic.
But Edward knew...
Elias was not a demon.
He was the light that would change the world.
"Everything will heal," Edward whispered.
"Step by step."