In the oldest tomes, written in blood and starlight, there is a law spoken only in whispers: “The World cannot hold them both.”
They were born under different skies.
One into light. One into shadow.
She was called the Giver.
With hands that healed, with words that calmed, with a heart that sought to fix what was broken.
But no one told her—
not everything wants to be fixed.
He was known as the Avoider.
A man with no crown, no magic, no glory.
He ran from faces, from voices, from the weight of being seen.
And yet, wherever he passed, the world bent toward good.
As if the earth itself whispered: follow him.
She tried to change the world and was hated for it.
He tried to escape it—and was loved.
And somewhere between them,
A woman stood.
A woman who loved the man who ran
And was comforted by the woman who stayed.
But fate is cruel in this land.
For when the Giver and the Avoider meet—truly meet—
The world will split.
And it all began by a river.
Where love tried to bloom
Between three souls
Who were never meant
To be close.
Chapter 1: The Man Who Walked Through Monsters
Ameline
The road to Parissaa was long, cracked, and quiet.
Dust clung to their boots. Trees whispered secrets overhead. The forest here always watched, even in daylight.
Ameline walked beside her family—her mother, father, and little brother—all carrying the heavy weight of coin. Coin meant for taxes. Coin scraped from soil and sweat.
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
They walked toward the city of light. The shining place. The one with the Tower.
But dreams… lie.
That’s when she saw him.
A man. Alone. Cloaked in gray. No sword. No cart. Just quiet footsteps and stillness.
He didn’t walk like a traveler. He walked like a ghost.
“Don’t stare,” her mother warned.
“He’s not our problem.”
But Ameline stared.
There was something different about him.
He didn’t fear the road.
Then the scream tore through the trees.
Four monsters charged from the brush—eyes glowing, claws bared, teeth shining wet.
Her father stepped forward. Her brother grabbed a stick.
Ameline’s heart thundered.
But she didn’t run.
She felt… calm.
And then the man turned.
No blade. No magic. Just a look.
The monsters froze.
Quivered.
One even stepped back.
Something in his eyes unmade them. Something not human. Something older.
They turned and fled—running from him like prey.
He said nothing.
Did nothing.
And walked on.
Her family was stunned.
Alive.
Breathing.
But Ameline only whispered one thing:
“What are you?”
Chapter 2: The Tower and the Lie
Ameline
Parissaa gleamed beneath the sun.
The Tower at its center pulsed with soft blue light—beautiful, strong, almost holy. It had driven back the monsters, purified the forest, kept the walls untouched.
But when they passed through the golden gate, the cold hit harder than the wind.
No smiles.
No welcome.
The city had peace… but no heart.
The guard took their coin and sneered.
The streets were clean, but silent.
Signs read:
“? Perfection is Our Protection ?”
“No Magic. No Blades. No Need.”
And yet the poor lined the corners.
The adventurers sat useless in taverns.
And everyone whispered the same thing:
“We didn’t ask for the Tower.”
“The Giver made this.”
“She tried to fix us—and broke everything.”
In a crumbling inn, Ameline sat by candlelight.
Her father asleep. Her mother restless. Her brother dreaming.
She looked out the window at the glowing Tower.
“Why help,” she asked aloud,
“if no one wants your help?”
She remembered the man on the road.
His silence. His strength. The fear he brought to monsters.
He didn’t try to help.
And yet… he had.
“Maybe the ones who run away save us more than the ones who stay.”
“Maybe perfect help isn’t help at all.”
She stared at the Tower. It glowed like a star.
And in that same night, somewhere in the deep woods—
someone else walked, quiet and alone.