Raivy's hands were shaking as tears appeared in the corner of his eyes. What have I done? I have forgotten about the promise...

The moonless night had forced Raivy to light the last candle he had in his hut to read a letter. Although he had a habit of consuming letters after they expired, Raivy could not do the same to the one that had just come from his father Javen.

Javen had married Velica a few months after Raivy’s mother, Arbara, had passed away last year. Raivy had not seen Javen and his new partner Velica for an entire month, but Raivy planned to repay that debt by visiting them more often in the coming weeks.

Raivy had expected a sharp letter due to his negligence toward them, but instead, he received a tragic story. "Read this story well, Raivy..." his father, Javen, had written. “It is about Itara—a woman who frequented your mother's mind. But Arbara’s death has turned Itara into a soulless ghost, corrupting her family and friends..."

After Raivy read the details about Itara and her family's story, Javen concluded the letter by saying, "I assume you understand that the matter is urgent. And since you are Arbara's only child, perhaps only you have the means for saving her. Go to Itara's house as soon as you can and do not visit us until you have treated her."

Raivy had assured his mother, Arbara, a few days before her death that he would take care of her beloved friend, Itara, in case anything harmed her. But his mother's sudden demise had scraped the promise out of his mind.

"Not a thousand apologies would be enough to fill the void I made," wrote Raivy, as the orange light of his last white candle danced around his journal. The wooden hut that Raivy lived in was an hour's walk away from his village, Madarma. It was also a two-hour walk from the village where Oran's family had settled, Medres.

"I can only imagine part of their struggle; Oran drowns deeper in despair after every failed attempt to treat his dear wife, Itara. He held much of the burden to himself to avoid further bringing down his daughter, Erya, who abandoned her friends and the public just so she could remain by her mother's side. I wonder who was more harmed by the death of my mother—my household or Oran's?"

Raivy went on, "Mother, my eyes only focused on investigating the cause of your death, so much so that it made me forget about what was valuable to you. I am certain you would not excuse me until I bandage Itara’s soul."

"However, I don't think that her condition would worsen that much if I delayed my meeting with her by a mere day. I may not have another chance to finish my plan even if I ran to Itara's home right away." Having penned that down, Raivy closed the diary, puffed the candle out, left his hut, and headed to the forest.

While walking, Raivy remembered the fairy tales that his mother had told him years ago before bed. Her stories were different from the traditional seven that all the children used to hear. One was about a knight who saved his lover. Another was about a greedy person who got punished, and another still about a hero who beat all the evil men without receiving a single scar.

Everyone knew about them but enjoyed re-listening. In contrast, Arbara's stories had one different theme in common. They all inhabited a mystical world called Metzra—a world of three hybrid beings.

They were a mixture of animals existing on Earth. Fronkey, for instance, was a hybrid of a frog and a monkey. Horsenake is a mixture of a horse and a snake. Antiger is that of an ant and a tiger.

Young Raivy had often asked Arbara about these three mystical creatures: "Which of the three is the strongest?"

She had replied, "None are stronger than the others, Ray." She liked calling him Ray when he was young. "They have been fighting against each other for two thousand years, yet no one has won the war"

"How can it be? Two thousand years and no one won?" Raivy had wondered.

"Yes," replied Arbara. "Each of them are still living in a kingdom, each occupying about one-third of Metzra. Legends say their creators, believed to be the Dragans, made them so that each race could never beat the other. Horsenakes peaked in attack, fronkeys in agility, and antigers in defense. I guess the Dragans wanted them to live in a world perpetually torn by war."

That was the first occasion on which Raivy had heard about the creators, the Dragans, but he was far more interested in what they created—the hybrids.

"But why didn't they stop? This makes no sense," Raivy had said.

"This is how their life works, Ray,” Arbara had responded. “When a person dies in war, his relatives cry for revenge. They go to fight but end up dying from fighting against someone who seeks revenge just like them. Thus, the cycle of revenge repeats itself, even in our world. In time, families and entire villages perish until no one else is left to seek revenge."

Arbara had looked sad as she played with Raivy's hair in a way that had given him goosebumps at the back of his head. It was weird, but he had liked it.

"...So, is this revenge a bad thing?" Raivy had asked.

Arbara had looked out at the window of Raivy's room, pondering his question. "I do not know, Ray," she had told him. "I believe every human emotion has its positives and negatives. But, I cannot see any useful purpose that revenge could serve."

Arbara had then turned her eyes back to her son.

"Ray, you will experience days when a person will remove a precious thing from your heart. This will form a burning sensation within you toward them. This is what we call revenge. Humans—no, all beings have a hard time controlling themselves at that moment; even I have fallen victim to it. Because of that sensation, if by any chance you let it control you, remember that I will always forgive you. But if you control it, I will forever be proud of you."

Arbara's eyes had welled up, while young Raivy had had a hard time digesting what his mom had told him, but at least the last part of her statement had been easy to follow. If he ever desired revenge, he would try to control it; if not, his mother would forgive him.

Raivy had had enough with revenge, so he changed the topic. "Mama, I want to go there. I want to see all these hybrids fighting and laughing like you told me… I want to see Vira the Stoneheart, killing ten fronkeys all by himself… Or Volca the Loud, who made twenty horsenakes run away with his loud cry."

Arbara had almost laughed. "I was at your age when your grandfather told me these stories,” she said. “I got so scared that an antiger might attack me while I was sleeping at night. So, I ended up crying in my parent's room instead. Your grandfather never liked that, so he made the stories less scary." As soon as she had finished talking, she had realized that Raivy was sound asleep.

Revenge, huh? Raivy thought to himself as he switched his attention back to the forest.

After Arbara had passed away, his father had given him a blue letter. It was from Arbara, who had asked Javen to give it to Raivy in case anything happened to her. But she had forbidden him from reading the letter until he was twenty-four years old, which was only a month away. He felt that something important was in it...

Just one more month, he thought.