He stopped.
Everything in him stilled, like the world itself had decided to hold its breath. His thoughts, once busy with questions and plans, faded into silence. No decisions. No movement. Just a pause—as if something sacred demanded reverence. And there he stood, barefoot and blinking, at the edge of a vast ocean, where earth met water, and time met eternity.
The sky was not simply sky. It was a breathing, shifting masterpiece, alive with color and mystery. Deep indigos bled into soft violets, slowly giving way to a warm golden blaze that shimmered across the horizon. Amber streaks kissed the edges of the clouds, which stretched long and smooth like brushstrokes across an infinite canvas. It looked like the gods themselves had painted the heavens for one final, perfect moment.
But what truly stole the breath from his lungs was the celestial ribbon spiraling upward through the clouds—a glittering golden trail that twisted like a question mark suspended in the heavens. It shimmered as though made of stardust, glowing softly even as the twin suns dipped ever lower toward the edge of the world.
Yes. Not one, but two.
Both suns now danced with the horizon. One, large and golden, burned just above the sea in the west, radiating warmth, calm, and serenity. Its rays melted into the water, creating a bridge of fire over the gentle waves—a molten path for dreams. The other, smaller and higher in the sky, peeked through a crack in the northern clouds, pale yellow and ghostly, as if it existed in a different realm altogether. The second sun's light was ethereal, like it didn't belong, yet somehow fit perfectly—completing the harmony.
This was Loria, the world of two hearts in the sky. To those unfamiliar, the second sun was no stranger. It was part of the Binary Sun Phenomenon—a cosmic dance where two suns circled each other in slow, celestial grace. During certain rare hours, especially near solstice, both would be visible—twin souls casting their light over the same world from different angles.
As he stood on that shore, Rony marveled at it all.
The ocean whispered to him. The waves lapped the sand like a lullaby, carrying secrets from far-off lands and forgotten dreams. Foam curled against the rocks with a gentle hiss, while the water gleamed in colors no painter could truly capture—gold, navy, teal, and even fleeting hints of rose.
Behind him, the forest he'd wandered through faded into shadows, the tall trees now silhouettes standing guard. But it was the cliffs on either side that framed the moment. On the left, they rose tall and proud, draped in rich greenery, their edges softened by the golden glow. On the right, a slope of wildflowers—scarlets, violets, and blushing pinks—gathered as though to watch the suns fall together. They leaned into the light, basking in it, blooming defiantly in this quiet theater of time.
The wind came next. It was not harsh, not howling. It was soft, cool, and steady—like a friend brushing fingers through his hair. It wrapped around him, pulled at his sleeves, and whispered things he couldn't quite understand. But he felt it. The way one feels love or sorrow or joy: with the heart, not the mind.
The boy—still nameless to this world—murmured a riddle. His voice was soft, but clear:
"When the sky wears two crowns, which one do you bow to? When the sea gives two roads, which one will carry you? When beauty sings from both peace and storm, Which song is true?"
A riddle to no one. A question to everyone.
He looked north. A mountain towered in the distance, shrouded in swirling storm clouds. It pierced the sky like a great spear, its peak lost to lightning. The thunderheads spun slowly around it, glowing purple and blue with every flash. The chaos of it should've been terrifying. But it wasn't. It was beautiful. A kind of terrifying wonder—a dangerous majesty.
Here, to the west, was the serenity of two suns and the golden sea. There, in the north, was the storm-mountain, wrapped in furious elegance. The two sides of Loria, exposed in perfect harmony. Peace and peril. Light and shadow. Wonder and fear.
He breathed in deeply, his lungs filling with air that tasted of salt and flower pollen. He could feel the life in this place. The magic of the land, of the world itself, humming beneath his bare feet. It was in the way the grass tickled his ankles. It was in the rhythm of the surf. It was in the stars beginning to wink into existence above him, dotting the darkening sky with promises.
He felt so small. And yet, so impossibly large.
A single tear slid down his cheek. Not of sadness. Not even of joy. Just... awe.
Here, in this sliver of time, between the fall of two suns, he existed. And that was enough.
He slowly sat down on the edge of the shore, letting the wet sand embrace him. His eyes wandered across the sea, past the reflection of the suns, into the horizon. For the first time in a long while, he didn't try to guess what came next. He just watched.
The winds shifted again. He tilted his head, as though listening to a distant song. Somewhere deep in the earbuds tucked around his neck, the Life Sound Engine whispered faint notes—soft and melodic. Like a heartbeat turned into music.
He smiled.
The journey wasn't over. It was just beginning.
But for now... this pause mattered. This moment mattered.
Both suns slowly sank, their lights touching the sea together, fading into twin trails of amber and violet. As darkness began to wrap the world, stars bloomed above, and the question mark in the sky began to shimmer ever brighter, now clearly drawn in stardust across the heavens.
What comes next?
He didn't know.
And that... was beautiful.