Every one hundred years a cycle takes place on the continent of Einix, two children are born marked as the Hero and the Demon Lord. The cycle has begun again and a young woman discovers that she is to play a part in it.
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Mira rose from a fitful sleep not long after the sun had crested the horizon. The mist of early morning still swirled above the ground as she met her parents in front of their small home. She gazed at the humble building made of wood and stone; she wondered if she would see it again. Her father ensured her new sword was secure on her hip before he and her mother pulled her into an embrace.
"Are you ready?" her mother asked as she pulled her bag of supplies onto her shoulder. Mira nodded as her parents released her.
"I know I may not be able to come back," Mira begins. "But please know that whatever my mark means, I will always love you both."
"We will always love you too," her father said, placing a hand on her shoulder.
Much like the day before Mira walked through the village, this time the residents were just waking and there was no one to greet her. She walked to the same field of flowers and stopped to stare at the speck that she could just see was a tower. The Tower of Eternity. Mira took a deep breath and continued on; the journey to the forest alone would take her a day. She walked with a determined air about her; she would not waiver in this journey. And when she eventually reached the tower, she would accept whatever was revealed to her.
There was no true road to the forest; not many would travel to it for fear of the beasts and monsters that made it home. As such, Mira was only aware she was travelling in the right direction because she could see the forest in the distance slowly getting closer as the day progressed. The land she walked was not just flat grassland; there were outcroppings of rocks and clusters of bushes. Mira had almost walked half the day when she heard a rustling in one of the clusters of bushes she had passed. She stopped and turned to face the source of the noise, her hand on the hilt of her sword.
"Show yourself," she demanded. She refused to be delayed in her journey. The rustling had stopped and nothing appeared; Mira turned back to continue on her way, her hand remaining on the hilt of her sword. She walked a few meters before the sound of a footstep behind her had Mira spinning to face whoever had made it.
There was a man standing behind her; he was tall and lean with a look of arrogance about him. He held his own sword in his hand, twirling in casually.
"Who are you? What do you want?" Mira demanded of the stranger, her grip tightening on her still-sheathed sword.
"Who am I? You don't recognise me?" The man asked with a chuckle; his smile made him look even more arrogant. Mira's eyes narrowed as she scrutinised his appearance. He was tanned with inky black hair; he wore leather armour that looked worn in some places. But his eyes did look familiar; they were a dark, almost swampy green. Yes, she did recognise him; he had lived in her village many years ago. His parents had suddenly moved them away; no one knew why or where they had gone. They had played together as children, but even then he had been arrogant and would argue with her about pointless things. She did not remember his name, however, and did not care to let him know that she did recognise him.
