Silva is a mysterious, magical world torn by unnatural forces and ancient wars. It is a realm of contradictions: burning deserts beside frozen plains, lush forests above dry caverns, and skies that bleed violet fire. The land is haunted by twisted monsters and phenomena that defy logic, remnants of a forgotten golden age.

  A young boy of thirteen summers found himself walking through a desolate desert. With each step on the burning sand, questions swirled in his mind like a rising sandstorm.

  What am I doing here? Who am I? And what is this vast, endless wasteland?

  The sun's merciless rays began to beat down upon him, and a desperate thirst clawed at his throat. A low grumble echoed from his empty stomach, a sad song in the silent expanse. He paused, his small frame casting a long shadow, and scanned the horizon. There was nothing but an ocean of sand shimmering under the heat.

  Poof.

  His strength gave out. The world tilted, and he collapsed onto the soft, warm sand, overwhelmed by the sheer weight of exhaustion.

  The boy awoke to the sound of howling wind and the

  creaking of rotting wood. He was lying on a tattered mattress inside what looked like a crumbling shack—barely standing against the storm outside. The air was cold, biting, and dry. Dust swirled through the cracks in the walls.

  Suddenly, an old man—ancient in appearance, with skin like parchment and eyes that held centuries—entered the room. He carried a chipped cup of water and a small piece of bread.

  "This is the best I have," the man said quietly, offering the meager meal.

  Without a word, the boy devoured the bread and drank the water. It quenched his thirst, but hunger still gnawed at his belly. Still, he felt grateful—for the kindness, and for the silence.

  Later, the boy rose from the mattress and wandered into the next room. The old man stood by the window, staring out into the void.

  "Excuse me," the boy said hesitantly. "May I speak with you?"

  The old man chuckled, his voice raspy and strange. "You already have, foolish child. Heh heh..."

  The boy smiled faintly. "Where are we? What is this place? And why am I here?"

  The man turned slowly, his gaze distant. "You're on the planet Silva. But I should be asking you—what is a boy like you doing here?"

  The boy looked down at his hands, his voice barely a whisper. "I... don't know."

  The old man shrugged. "It doesn't matter. You need to find a village—or a city. Somewhere safe. Maybe they'll have answers for you."

  He turned back to the window, eyes fixed on the moon.

  "Not much time left now... a day, maybe two."

  The boy blinked. "What do you mean, sir?"

  The old man snapped, "I'm not your sir! I am your king—the great ruler of the Seven Deserts!"

  Then, as if something shifted inside him, he paused. "Hmm... curious. Someone must have cared for you once. You carry yourself with a trace of dignity."

  The boy repeated his question, confused. "What did you mean earlier?"

  The old man smiled at the moon. "I've discovered I suffer from Lepsius—a disease of the mind. A cruel one. My memories are fading. I've forgotten my home, my people... everything. All I remember clearly is the name of this planet. Silva."

  The boy's eyes widened. "Then you're lost too. You should come with me."

  The old man's expression softened. "I've packed a few things for you. Use them wisely. And take this."

  Shk-shk-shk—the sound of coins rattling in a pouch.

  The boy took the bag. "What is this?"

  The old man laughed. "I have no idea! Maybe it'll be useful. Heh heh heh..."

  That night, the old man lay down to sleep. The boy did the same, clutching the pouch and the supplies. Tomorrow, his journey would begin—a long road through the unknown, across the deserts of Silva, in search of answers... or perhaps something greater.

  The journey begins

  The boy awoke from a deep sleep to the soft hush of morning. The wind had calmed. The air was still.

  Everything was ready.

  Let's see... he thought.

  Backpack. Water flask. A bit of food. And the old man's coin pouch...

  He opened the pouch and gasped. Inside were gleaming gold coins, each etched with strange symbols and unfamiliar letters. They shimmered in the light, almost alive.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  "I've never seen markings like these," he whispered. "What could they mean?"

  He decided to ask the old man before leaving.

  He stepped into the next room.

  "wake up. I'm leaving now. I just wanted to thank you... for everything."

  No response.

  The boy moved closer, raising his voice. "I found gold coins with strange symbols. Do you know what they are?"

  Still nothing.

  He leaned in, placing his ear against the old man's chest.

  No heartbeat.

  No breath.

  Just Silence with howling wind.

  "...Lepsius," the boy muttered, his voice cracking. "That cursed disease..."

  Tears welled in his eyes and spilled down his cheeks. He didn't try to stop them.

  "“Thank you… thank you… Ah!!” He placed his hands on his head as fatigue began to set in.

  Wait…this old man couldn’t be….Ah!!…. What’s going here?!

  my head …ahh I have to keep moving…

  He packed his things quickly, wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt. The desert awaited.

  He turned to the east, toward the unknown.

  Then paused.

  He looked back one last time.

  "Rest in peace... my king."

  And with that, the boy stepped into the sands, the coins clinking softly in his bag, the sun rising behind him, and the mysteries of Silva stretching far ahead.

  The Mirage and the Caravan

  The boy ran with all his strength toward the distant village, clinging to the hope that it held answers-answers to the questions that haunted him, and perhaps a way to make sense of the old man's quiet kindness.

  An hour passed.

  He was still running.

  "I'm getting closer..." he whispered.

  But something felt wrong.

  Why did the village seem to drift farther away the closer he got?

  Two hours later, his legs began to ache. He slowed to a walk, panting, and took a sip from the water flask the old man had given him. It cooled his throat, but not his confusion.

  He looked again toward the horizon.

  "What's happening to my eyes...?"

  Was it a trick of the light?

  Had he lost his way?

  The village was gone.

  "Damn it... What now? Which direction should I go?"

  He clenched his fists, then took a deep breath.

  "I'll keep walking. Maybe I'll find something..."

  And then-he saw it.

  A caravan, far in the distance, cutting across the barren desert like a line of hope.

  "Wait! Please-wait for me!"

  He shouted, waving his arms, and began to run. His feet moved faster and faster, until he was sprinting with a speed that felt unnatural-like the wind had taken hold of him.

  He reached the caravan.

  The travelers stared at him in disbelief.

  "Hello! I'm lost in the desert. Please... take me with you!"

  They exchanged glances, murmuring among themselves.

  "Hey, Jabir! There's a child here. What should we do?"

  Jabir. The name echoed. He must be the leader.

  A tall man stepped forward, his face stern and weathered by the sun.

  "Who are you? Speak. Where do you come from?"

  "I... I don't know," the boy stammered.

  Jabir narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean you don't know? Are you mocking us?"

  "No! I swear I'm not. I'm just... lost. I woke up in the desert. I don't remember anything. Not even who I am."

  Jabir studied the boy's face. His gaze lingered on the boy's eyes.

  "Your eyes don't lie, boy..."

  He paused, then nodded.

  "Fine. You'll come with us. But if you cause trouble-I won't forgive you."

  The boy's face lit up with relief. "I promise!"

  He climbed onto one of the caravan's pack animals, and for the first time in days, felt a flicker of peace in his heart.

  He didn't know where they were going.

  But at least now... he wasn't alone.

  The valley of wonders

  Six hours had passed.

  The boy trudged alongside the caravan, his legs aching, his thoughts swirling. How much farther? he wondered. The desert stretched endlessly, but something felt... different.

  He looked up.

  The sky had turned gray. Thick clouds rolled in, veiling the moonlight.

  Jabir's voice rang out, firm and commanding.

  "Alright! We stop here. The clouds have swallowed the moon-we can't see a thing. We'll wait for sunrise before moving forward."

  The boy blinked. That's strange... I can still see just fine. Why stop now?

  Curious, he turned to find someone who might explain.

  A graceful young woman passed by, her steps light, her eyes sharp.

  "Excuse me, miss... why did we stop?"

  She glanced at him, surprised. "Ah, you're the boy they were talking about."

  She smiled faintly. "We stopped because visibility is low. We're about half an hour away from the Valley of Wonders."

  The boy tilted his head. "Valley of Wonders? What's that?"

  She hesitated. "It's part of the Golden Desert. The most dangerous path caravans ever take-but also the fastest shortcut through this barren land."

  "Why is it so dangerous?" he asked.

  Before she could answer, Jabir's voice cut through the air.

  "It's crawling with bandits and thieves. Not to mention quicksand, wild beasts, and strange creatures. It's a cursed place. I lost three camels the last time I crossed it."

  The boy's eyes lit up with determination. "You won't lose any camels this time, sir! I'll protect you!"

  Jabir laughed heartily. "Ha! I like you, boy. You're young, but you've got a brave heart."

  The boy blushed. "Of course!"

  The girl glanced at the horizon, her voice uneasy. "The fog is coming..."

  Jabir nodded grimly. "That's normal. We're close to the cursed valley."

  She whispered, "I hope we make it through safely..."

  Jabir raised his voice. "Alright! Set up camp and prepare dinner. Tomorrow, we march for three days straight-we cross the valley fast and without delay!"

  Tents were pitched. Fires lit. Dinner was served.

  The boy sat quietly, staring at the food. He wasn't hungry... or rather, he was-but not for this. Something inside him longed for something else. Something unknown.

  Jabir approached, handing him a bowl. "Here, boy. Tonight's meal-rice porridge with chicken and fresh well water."

  "Thank you, sir."

  He ate slowly, without appetite. The water, however, filled him with a strange satisfaction. It was as if the thirst reached deeper than his throat.

  Jabir called out once more. "Time to sleep! Rest well-we begin a harsh journey at dawn!"

  The boy curled up in his blanket, eyes wide with anticipation.

  Tomorrow, he thought, I'll see the Valley of Wonders.

  And with that, he drifted into sleep, the desert wind whispering secrets just beyond the edge of dreams.

  The Damned Valley

  The boy had sunk into a deep sleep, but something felt... off.

  A strange sensation pulsed through his body. His teeth ached. His limbs felt heavier than usual.

  Before he could make sense of it, Jabir's voice broke through the morning haze.

  "Come on, boy. Pack your things. We move soon."

  The boy blinked, remembering. The valley... we're heading to that place today. He felt a mix of curiosity and unease.

  He spotted the young woman from the night before and approached her, awkwardly clearing his throat.

  "Um... excuse me. How long until we reach the valley?"

  She turned, amused. "Ah, you're the boy everyone's been talking about."

  Then she smiled. "My name is Jawaher. I handle the caravan's finances. Nice to meet you."

  The boy flushed. "Nice to meet you too..."

  Jawaher glanced at the horizon. "We'll reach it in about half an hour."

  They began their march.

  The boy walked beside Jabir at the front of the caravan, eyes scanning the shifting sands. And then... he saw it.

  A jagged ravine carved into the desert floor. Twisted rocks. Shadows that seemed to move.

  "This... is it?" he whispered.

  "Is that... a body?"

  Jabir's voice was cold. "Yes. One of the scouts from the Kingdom of Aurik."

  "Aurik? What kind of place is that?"

  Jabir sighed. "A large settlement. Plenty of water. Food beyond imagination. Kind people. But..."

  Jawaher approached, her face pale and tense.

  "I can't believe it... He died here. In this cursed valley..."

  The boy's mind raced. "Why would someone from the kingdom travel through here alone?"

  Jabir's voice dropped. "It's a long story, boy. One you wouldn't believe. The kingdom... it's on the brink of collapse."

  Jawaher's eyes darkened. "I just hope we reach it before it's too late."

  They pressed on, deeper into the valley.

  The boy's thoughts swirled. What happened to Aurik? Why was that scout here? What secrets does this kingdom hold?

  One thing was clear.

  He had found his destination.

  The Kingdom of Aurik.

  As they crossed the valley, Jabir's face remained unreadable-cold, grim, and strangely sorrowful. Jawaher kept glancing side to side, as if expecting something to leap from the shadows.

  The rest of the caravan moved with quiet dread. Fear clung to them like dust.

  But the boy... he felt no fear.

  He had never seen true danger. Not yet.

  And then-

  A figure appeared.

  Standing directly in their path.

  Watching them.

  Silent.

  Unmoving.

  Who is that...?

  Here's a special Song!

  

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  I really hope you guys like it ! I'll try do better as I'm learning with pros!