(legend)

Once, as darkness settled over the Carpathians and the silver moon peeked from behind the high ridges, the strings of fate began to play in the quiet village of Pidhirtsi. None of the villagers had any idea that in a modest cottage on the outskirts of town lived a young man destined to change the course of history. His name was Orest, and from birth his deep blue eyes had marked him as if he belonged to an ancient order of magicians.

That night, under stars that had not shone for centuries, the villagers sensed a change. The elders remained silent, but ancient legends whispered like the branches of the mountain pines: these stars heralded the arrival of Lorkas, a dark spirit who awakens once every thousand years to bring chaos and end the peace of mankind.

Orest was only a boy, but he had grown up with stories of an ancient oath: long ago, one of his ancestors had defeated Lorkas and imprisoned him beneath the Cloudy Mountains. But the spirit was never destroyed, and now its magic would return to shatter the chains of eternal imprisonment.

“This is your time, Orest,” said old Klym, the village sage, when the boy came to him for advice. “You must find the ancient artefact known as the Heartstone of the Mountain. Without it, no one could stand against the dark Lorkas.”

Orest set off on his journey, though the path was too arduous. He crossed raging rivers, trekked through dense, primeval forests, and only when he reached the peaks of the Cloudy Mountain did he feel the call of a power within him. The stone lay in a small cave, lost among the sheer cliffs, hidden more securely than any treasure. A fire ignited in his soul as he touched the cold stone, ancient magic flowing within him.

Returning to the village, Orest found shadows already engulfing Pidhirtsi. Lorkas – massive and dark, with eyes burning like molten iron – stood in the fields, ready to destroy all in his path. But Orest, armed with the Heartstone of the Mountain, attacked him without fear. Their battle was long and fierce, with blows that shook the ground and flashes of light that blinded even the oldest of eyes.

By dawn, the darkness had dissipated. Lorkas was gone, leaving only fragments of twilight and silence. Orest stood alone in the field, the Heart Stone in his hand, victorious, but no longer a boy, but a warrior of whom new legends would one day be told.

Peace returned to the village of Pidhirtsi. And Orest, realising his destiny, became the guardian of the ancient magic that now rested deep within his heart, ready to awaken again should darkness ever return to the Carpathians.