Domenys, 27th of Lumaris, Year 578 of the Elythera Calendar.

  Sora was in his room, leaning over his desk as he examined the wooden tools he had received a few days earlier from Olbran’s workshop. He turned one of them between his fingers, thoughtful, imagining how he would process the materials once all the equipment was finally complete. The metal pieces he had ordered from Garrik, the town’s blacksmith, were still missing and although he knew they would arrive any day now, there was no telling exactly when.

  A gentle knock on the door broke the silence.

  “Sora, dear,” came Aeris’ warm voice from the hallway. “Nanami came to visit you.”

  Sora lifted his head immediately. It was just after lunch, the usual time Nanami stopped by to play or simply spend time with him. A smile spread across his face before he could even think; he pushed his chair back, stood up, and hurried out of the room, practically flying down the stairs two at a time.

  There she was, Nanami sitting on the living room couch, swinging her feet as she hummed a cheerful tune. Her chestnut hair swayed softly with each note, and the midday light streaming through the window cast a warm, homey glow around her.

  When she spotted Sora, her smile widened.

  “Sora!” she exclaimed, waving a hand.

  “Nanami, you came at the perfect time,” he replied, that usual spark lighting up his eyes whenever she appeared.

  They both laughed with the effortless ease only lifelong friends shared, while Aeris watched them fondly from the kitchen, quietly grateful for such a pure bond brightening the house day after day.

  Sora turned to Nanami with his usual mischievous smile.

  “Should we go play outside, or do you want to stay here?”

  Nanami tapped a finger against her chin, thoughtful for a moment, before answering with her trademark enthusiasm:

  “Of course! We could go to the White Crest Tree if you want… or maybe to the village. It’s been a while since we walked around there.”

  Sora nodded right away.

  “Sounds good. We go to the White Crest Tree almost every day, so a change of scenery would be nice,” he said with an excited tone.

  Nanami smiled, pleased, and while she waited for him on the living room sofa, Sora ran upstairs to his room to change. He had spent most of the morning with Master Seralya following their usual meditation routine and then, afterward, completely absorbed at his desk, lost in thoughts about how to advance his experiment. In all that distraction, he had completely forgotten to get ready for his friend’s visit.

  When he came back down, now dressed in his outdoor clothes, he activated Polimorfis to adopt his human appearance and joined Nanami at the door.

  “Alright, let’s go,” he said with a confident smile.

  They stepped out of the house and began walking down the path that led to the village. The sun bathed the roads in gentle warmth, and the air of Lumaris carried the fresh scent of newly opened flowers. They chatted and laughed as usual but after a few minutes, Nanami began to notice something different.

  Sora was quiet. His gaze, fixed on some distant point, seemed to drift far beyond the scenery around them.

  Nanami watched him for a few seconds, somewhere between curious and amused, until she couldn’t resist. She leaned in and poked his forehead with her index finger.

  “Sooooraaa,” she sing-songed playfully. “Why are you so spaced out today?”

  Sora blinked, snapping back to reality, and let out a small nervous laugh.

  “Sorry, Nanami. I was thinking about how I’ll carry out my experiment once the tools I ordered from Mister Garrik arrive.”

  Nanami puffed out her cheeks with a tiny offended pout.

  “You’re still thinking about that? I’m sure you’ll be fine! You always end up pulling off incredible things!”

  Then, as if suddenly remembering something important, her eyes sparkled.

  “Besides, you still owe me that magic lesson.”

  Sora opened his eyes wide in surprise.

  “Right! I completely forgot. Of course, Nanami. But I warn you, you’ll spend a lot of time meditating, so I don’t want to hear any complaints afterward.”

  Nanami crossed her arms and lifted her chin proudly.

  “I learned to read with you and big-sister Aeris, didn’t I? This will be easy!”

  Sora couldn’t help but smile in resignation. He knew that tone all too well. When Nanami set her mind on something, she was just as stubborn as he was.

  And although he pretended to be annoyed, that stubbornness was something he found… endearing.

  “Alright,” Sora said in a calm voice. “If we have time, when we come back we can go to the White Crest Tree so you can start your first lesson, Nanami.”

  Nanami gave a small hop of excitement, her eyes sparkling as if he had promised her a priceless treasure.

  “Yes! When we get back, you’ll teach me magic!” she exclaimed, skipping ahead with little jumps along the path.

  Sora watched her walk ahead, smiling to himself with tenderness.

  Nanami never runs out of energy, he thought, shaking his head softly.

  The Lumaris sun shone high, coating the rooftops of Rulid in golden reflections. As they walked, rays of light filtered between the trees, casting dancing shadows along their path. Nanami enthusiastically imitated Sora, stretching out her hand as if launching imaginary fireballs, and he couldn’t help laughing at how ridiculous and adorable she looked.

  After a few minutes of chatting and laughing, they reached the village gates. The guards recognized them instantly and greeted them with warm smiles.

  “Good morning, young Sora, Miss Nanami.”

  By now it was common to see the two of them wandering the roads together or exploring the surroundings. little inseparables in their daily adventures.

  Once inside the village, the bustle of the plaza enveloped them. Merchants called out their wares, children played around the central fountain, and the air carried a blend of sweet scents, fresh bread and flowers from the market.

  Sora lifted his gaze and, drawn by an especially delicious smell, stopped in front of a modest stall with a cream-colored canopy. From it came a warm aroma of honey and apple, so comforting it felt like it wrapped around the soul.

  He bought a few honey–apple rolls, fully aware of how much Nanami loved that combination.

  Hearing this, she bounced with pure joy.

  “Yaaay!” she squeaked, her energetic little voice capable of making anyone smile.

  The vendor handed them a linen bag, and the two headed toward the fountain, where they sat side by side. The clear water reflected golden shades of the sky, and the soft drip of the fountain accompanied their laughter as they ate. Between bites, Nanami began joking about the shape of the rolls, comparing them to animals or strange creatures, and Sora played along, laughing with her.

  When they finished, Sora slipped the last two rolls into the bag for later. It was then he noticed Nanami staring at him insistently, wearing that expectant expression that could only mean one thing.

  Pretending not to understand, Sora raised an eyebrow mischievously.

  “What is it, Nanami? Do you need something? Didn’t you like the honey–apple rolls?”

  She puffed her cheeks and crossed her arms.

  “Soooraaa! Let’s go back to the White Crest Tree! We’re running out of time!” she protested with a pout.

  Sora let out a playful laugh, standing up slowly and exaggerating every movement on purpose.

  “All right, all right, let’s go, Nanami…” he said in a teasing tone.

  Nanami, unable to tolerate his exaggerated slowness any longer, gave him a playful shove while laughing.

  “Come on, lazybones! You’re the one who said we were going to practice!”

  Sora simply smiled, enjoying the moment. With her around, it was impossible to get bored.

  Together, between laughter and short races, they started their way back toward the White Crest Tree, the warm breeze accompanying each step.

  As they moved away from the main square, the usual market bustle faded behind them. The sun was beginning its slow descent, bathing the road in amber hues and stretching long shadows across the cobblestones. Nanami kept humming that cheerful little melody she always invented when she was in a good mood, and Sora walked beside her in quiet enjoyment of the peaceful moment.

  However, that calm broke when they heard voices up ahead. They weren’t playful shouts or laughter, it was a rough, mocking tone, followed by a faint sob. Sora stopped, tilting his head.

  “What was that?” he murmured, curious.

  Nanami stopped too, narrowing her eyes toward a side alley connecting to the main street. The voices came from there, and as they peeked inside, they saw it: three kids, a bit older than them, surrounding a smaller, thinner boy who was trying to shield his head with his arms as he received shove after shove.

  Nanami’s brow furrowed instantly, and before Sora could even open his mouth, she stepped forward, her voice sharp and cutting:

  “How lovely… three idiots picking on a little kid alone. What would your parents think of that, huh?”

  The three boys turned toward her with annoyed expressions. One of them, his lip curled in irritation, scoffed:

  “And what do you want? You wanna join...?”

  But he didn’t finish the sentence. His eyes widened as he recognized the girl standing in front of him.

  “I-It’s… it’s the captain of the guard’s daughter!” one of them whispered in panic.

  Color drained from their faces all at once.

  “Run!” another shouted, and in seconds all three bolted down the street, stumbling over each other in their rush to escape.

  Sora watched them disappear into the crowd, surprised, then turned toward Nanami. She stood there with her arms crossed and a deep frown on her face, commanding far more authority than someone her age should.

  “Well, well…” Sora said, raising an eyebrow, half impressed. “I didn’t know you had that kind of attitude.”

  Nanami sighed, lowering her arms as she approached the boy still curled on the ground.

  “Hey, it’s okay now. They’re gone. They won’t bother you anymore,” she said softly, extending a hand to him.

  The boy barely lifted his gaze, but didn’t say a word. He stood up clumsily, avoided eye contact… and ran off in the opposite direction.

  Sora watched him leave, a little confused, while Nanami observed in silence.

  “Well…” Sora murmured at last, “it must be tough going through that. But I’m sure he’s grateful to you.”

  Nanami let out a small sigh, shrugging lightly.

  “He’s very silly,” she said without malice, more resigned than annoyed. “But it’s fine. Come on, let’s keep going.”

  Sora watched her as they started walking again. That’s definitely Nanami, he thought with a faint smile. How could anything she does still surprise me, with that strong attitude of hers?

  The incident was left behind, and soon the sound of wind rustling through the trees once again dominated the path, as if the world itself wanted to return the calm stolen by that brief disturbance.

  Just as they were about to reach the village exit, Sora stopped for a moment. Among the stalls lining the main street, his eyes settled on a small trinket shop with light-colored wood and ivory curtains. It was the same place where, weeks ago, Nanami had stared wide-eyed at a pair of earrings displayed in the window. At that moment, a spark lit up in his mind.

  “Nanami,” he said, turning to her with a mysterious smile, “I just remembered I need to do something. Could you wait for me here for a moment? Don’t move and don’t follow me, okay? I won’t take long.”

  Nanami looked at him with a mix of curiosity and slight suspicion.

  “Fine, but don’t take too long” she warned, crossing her arms with a small pout.

  Sora nodded and walked away quickly, glancing discreetly over his shoulder to make sure she wasn’t following him. The soft chime of the bell above the door announced his entrance.

  Inside, the atmosphere was warm, with a light scent of old wood and dried flowers. The shelves were filled with all kinds of simple trinkets: bead necklaces, woven bracelets, river-stone amulets, and small copper mirrors. But Sora’s eyes were fixed on one thing only: those silver earrings with bluish inlays that Nanami had admired that day.

  He approached the counter and spoke politely:

  “Excuse me”

  A middle-aged woman with her hair tied back and a beige apron stepped out from behind the counter, watching him with curiosity.

  “Welcome, little one. How can I help you?”

  Sora gave her a slight bow, remembering his mother’s lessons on manners.

  “Well, I’d like to buy those earrings you have in the display case”

  The woman raised an eyebrow, surprised, and answered with a kind but cautious tone:

  “Of course… but I charge in advance”

  Sora understood the reason immediately. With calm, he asked:

  “Perfect. How much are they?”

  “One silver coin”

  Sora nodded, pulling his small coin pouch from the inner pocket of his vest. The coins jingled softly until he took out a bright silver one and placed it on the counter with both hands, just like adults did.

  The shopkeeper smiled, a hint of surprise in her expression at his formality.

  “My, what a well-mannered customer” she said while taking the payment. Then she turned to the display case, opened the shelf and carefully took out the earrings, placing them inside a small linen pouch tied with a cord.

  “Here you go, young man. Take good care of them, they’re delicate”

  “Thank you very much,” Sora replied with another bow, taking the little pouch with a mix of pride and excitement.

  When he left the shop, he made sure to quickly hide it inside the inner pocket of his cloak before Nanami could see it. She was a few meters ahead, distracted while looking at a wooden toy shop.

  Sora approached quickly.

  “All right, Nanami. We can go now”

  She glanced at him sideways, one eyebrow raised.

  “What did you go do, Sora?”

  He feigned perfect innocence, replying in a playful tone as he sped up toward the village exit:

  “Nothing really. Come on, we’re running out of time”

  Nanami puffed out her cheeks, half amused, and trotted after him. Sora and his mysteries, she thought. Without knowing that, at that very moment, that little secret hidden in his pocket carried the exact shine of his smile.

  After a while walking, they finally arrived at the White-Crest Tree. The gentle Lumaris breeze made the tree’s white and pink petals fall softly, fluttering around them like perfumed snow. The air smelled of damp earth and young leaves, and the song of cicadas filled the silence between their steps.

  Already beneath the tree, both of them sat together at the base of the trunk. Nanami, restless, kept glancing at him from the corner of her eye with a mix of impatience and contained excitement. Sora knew that look perfectly; it was the same one she always made whenever she expected him to start something important.

  “Okay, Nanami” he broke the silence with a smile. “It’s here, under the White-Crest Tree, where your path in magic begins. There’s no turning back now, understood?”

  “Yes, Master Sora!” she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with childlike enthusiasm.

  Sora let out a soft laugh at her excitement, then instructed calmly:

  “Perfect, Nanami. Then take the meditation posture I showed you when I used to practice”

  She sat down at once, crossing her legs on the grass and placing her hands on her knees, trying her best to imitate him. The slight tremble in her shoulders revealed how hard she was trying to hold the posture.

  “You need to relax” Sora said softly, using the same patient tone he had heard from Seralya so many times. “Keep a calm, steady breath. Close your eyes… and feel the mana flowing inside your body. Picture it as if you were submerged in a river current”

  Nanami nodded silently, her eyelashes trembling as she closed her eyes. Little by little, her breathing grew slower, matching the gentle rhythm of the wind swaying through the branches.

  A few minutes passed in silence, the kind that doesn’t weigh, but wraps around gently. Finally, Sora asked in a low voice:

  “Do you feel anything different?”

  Nanami, eyes still closed, replied:

  “For some reason I feel… calm”

  Sora smiled, seeing in her the same expression of focus he himself made without noticing during his own practices.

  “That’s the feeling you need” he said approvingly. “Now imagine that the current surrounding you moves toward your hands, forming an orb above them. Picture it as a small sphere, not too big”

  She nodded again, extending her hands forward slowly. The air seemed to tighten slightly, vibrating faintly.

  “Perfect” Sora continued with a serene tone. “Stay like that for a while. This exercise requires patience”

  And with that, he sat down beside her, resting his back against the trunk of the White-Crest Tree. The murmur of the leaves wrapped around them like a lullaby, while petals drifted down onto their shoulders. Two children practicing magic but more than that, sharing a moment that would remain engraved in both their souls.

  Incredibly, Nanami held her meditation for nearly twenty minutes. The wind played with her hair while she remained still, breathing calmly. Only the murmur of the nearby river and the whisper of the White-Crest Tree’s petals accompanied the silence.

  Until, finally, her voice broke it:

  “Do you see anything?” she asked, a faint thread of doubt in her tone.

  Sora slowly opened his eyes and replied with calm:

  “Not yet, but you won’t get a direct result after only twenty minutes. You need to be patient”

  Nanami frowned slightly, opened her eyes, and let out a sigh.

  “I can feel calm… and I feel like the wind is hitting me, like a river current… but I don’t really understand the sphere part”

  Sora watched her in silence for a moment. Maybe it’s not that easy for her… how could I help her truly feel it? he wondered, while the reflection of the dancing leaves shifted across her face.

  Then an idea struck him. He stood up from the grass and sat down again in front of her, this time face-to-face.

  “Take the meditation posture again, but move your hands a bit more forward” he instructed.

  Nanami obeyed without a word, confused but curious. Then Sora placed his own hands just beneath hers. The touch was slight but warm; Nanami flinched a little in surprise, though she didn’t pull away.

  “Close your eyes again and go back to meditating” Sora said softly.

  “I’ll do the same, but this time I’ll let my mana flow through your hands and I’ll manifest the orb myself. That way you can feel what it’s like”

  Nanami nodded gently, offering a barely audible yes.

  Sora closed his eyes, focusing. The air seemed to vibrate. A golden glow began to form between their hands, slipping through their fingers. Nanami felt it: a warm, soft current running across her palms, as if the air itself had gained weight and life. Her breathing fell into rhythm with Sora’s without her even trying, and for a moment they shared the same pulse of mana.

  The orb formed, floating between them like a small, faint sphere of fire, almost transparent. Its glow reflected on Nanami’s closed eyes and on Sora’s concentrated expression.

  After a few minutes, Sora stopped channeling energy and slowly withdrew his hands.

  “Well?” he asked with a calm smile.

  “Now do you understand how it’s supposed to feel?”

  Nanami opened her eyes, her pupils reflecting the fading glow of the orb.

  “Yes!” she replied, full of excitement. “Now I know how it’s supposed to feel”

  “Perfect” Sora said, nodding with pride. “Now try to recreate that feeling without my help”

  The sun, already beginning to descend, bathed the scene in golden light. The wind played with the petals of the White-Crest Tree as the two children closed their eyes again, synchronized, wrapped in the magic of an afternoon that would mark the beginning of Nanami’s path as a mage.

  After a while longer of practice, Sora watched silently as Nanami kept trying to focus, her brow furrowed and her hands still over the air.

  I think we should stop for today… he thought, but just as he was about to say it, a tiny spark flickered between Nanami’s palms.

  It lasted only a moment, like the blink of a firefly but Sora saw it clearly. His eyes widened in surprise, though he didn’t say anything right away, afraid of breaking her concentration.

  A few minutes later, Sora finally spoke in a calm voice:

  “Perfect, Nanami, that’s all for today. Like I told you, the first day is just to get used to the feeling. Not even I got a direct result in my first practice, although…” he smiled playfully, “you’re the exception”

  Nanami looked at him, puzzled.

  “What do you mean, Sora?”

  “A few minutes ago” he explained with a soft smile, “a tiny spark appeared between your hands. I’m not saying it to make you feel better, there really was one”

  Nanami’s eyes lit up as if they’d captured the glow of that very spark.

  “Really!?” she exclaimed, leaning toward him.

  “It’s true, Nanami. Congratulations” Sora replied, then added in a teasing tone,

  “We’re done for today buuut before that… get into the meditation posture again”

  Without hesitation, Nanami obeyed and closed her eyes with complete trust.

  Then Sora took out the small linen pouch he had kept since their visit to the town, and very carefully placed it on Nanami’s outstretched hands.

  “Look!” he said jokingly. “You made something appear!”

  Nanami opened her eyes in confusion, blinking at the light weight resting on her palms.

  “W-what… what is this, Sora?”

  He smiled with a calm, mischievous air.

  “Open it and you’ll see what it is”

  Nanami, her cheeks still warm with curiosity, loosened the string of the little pouch. Inside, glimmering beneath the fading afternoon light, were a pair of white earrings shaped like tiny little birds. Their shine seemed to dance beneath the shade of the White Crest Tree.

  Nanami went speechless. For a moment she just stared at the gift with wide eyes, until she finally pressed it against her chest and unable to hold back jumped at Sora to hug him tightly.

  “Seriously, Sora!? You bought these for me!?”

  Sora, laughing at the intensity of the hug, answered:

  “Of course. They’re yours. I knew how much you liked them, and… I wanted to give you something since I didn’t prepare anything for your birthday last year”

  Nanami lifted her head, her eyes shimmering with held-back tears and a smile so pure it made Sora blush a little.

  “I love them! Thank you so much, Sora. They’re beautiful.”

  The wind blew through the branches of the White Crest Tree, scattering pink petals around them like perfumed snow. Sora watched them drift in the golden light, thinking he couldn’t have picked a better moment to give her the gift.

  Then Sora asked with a calm smile:

  “So? Don’t you want to put them on?”

  Nanami nodded eagerly. She wasn’t wearing earrings today, though she usually did, so she took the chance and put them on carefully. The tiny white birds swayed lightly, reflecting the warm glow of the sunset.

  “How do I look?” she asked, turning her head toward Sora with a mix of pride and shyness.

  Sora watched her for a few seconds, noticing how the shine of the earrings blended with the sparkle of her eyes.

  “They look even better now that you’re the one wearing them,” he replied without hesitation.

  At those words, Nanami instantly blushed, lifting a hand to her cheek as she turned around so he wouldn’t see her expression. Idiot… she thought, her heart pounding fast, yet she couldn’t stop the mischievous smile pulling at her lips as the wind played with her hair.

  Sora, seeing her back turned, let out a small, satisfied smile. That simple, genuine scene warmed him more than any flame he could conjure.

  Nanami took a few seconds to compose herself before turning back toward him with her face relaxed again.

  “Well, I guess that’s it for today, right?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

  “Yeah,” Sora replied, “but we still have the last two pastries left. Want to eat them before heading home?”

  Nanami smiled, cheeks still a bit red, and sat down beside him under the White Crest Tree.

  “Yes! Let’s eat them here,” she said.

  Sora carefully pulled out the linen pouch with the remaining pastries. The warm scent of honey and apple mixed with the soft perfume of the blossoms falling from the branches above, creating a moment so peaceful it felt like one of those childhood memories destined to stay forever.

  They ate slowly, enjoying the quiet, the soft breeze, and the sky beginning to tint itself violet. Every now and then, Nanami touched her new earrings with her fingertips, as if making sure they were still real.

  When they finished, Sora tucked the empty bag away and stood up.

  “Come on, Nanami. We should head back. If it gets too late, Aeris will scold both of us equally.”

  Nanami rose as well, brushing off the petals that had fallen onto her skirt.

  “Ugh… yeah, you’re right. And I don’t want to get the ‘be responsible, young lady’ speech, she’s given me that one so many times I have it memorized,” she said, imitating Aeris dramatically, making Sora laugh out loud.

  And so, side by side, they began walking back down the path.

  Nanami walked with light, springy steps, touching her earrings every now and then; Sora walked quietly, stealing glances at her, holding close the warm satisfaction of knowing he had truly made her happy.

  The White Crest Tree stayed behind, its branches swaying under the dying light of day… and with it, another memory the two of them would carry for the rest of their lives.

  “Yes!” she exclaimed without thinking twice, raising her hand as if she were accepting a solemn pact.

  They sat again beneath the White Crest Tree, sharing the remaining pastries while the last rays of daylight filtered through the branches. The breeze smelled of flowers and honey, and the silence was broken only by the occasional burst of laughter from the two of them.

  When they finished, they headed back to the village together. They played a little more along the way until, finally, Liora’s figure appeared in the distance, coming to pick up her daughter as she did every afternoon. As soon as she saw her, Nanami ran toward her, proudly showing off the earrings she had just received.

  Liora noticed immediately, her eyes drifting to the shining little birds dangling from Nanami’s ears.

  “Nanami… where did you get those lovely earrings?” she asked with a small smile.

  Nanami, proud, touched them with her fingertips and looked toward Sora.

  “Sora gave them to me today! Aren’t they pretty?”

  Liora followed her daughter’s gaze toward the boy and, understanding, bowed her head slightly in gratitude.

  “Thank you very much, Sora. It wasn’t necessary, truly.”

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  Sora, a bit embarrassed but keeping his composure, answered politely:

  “I owed Nanami something. I couldn’t prepare anything for her birthday last year, and… I wanted to give her these now. I knew how much she liked them.”

  Liora watched him for a moment, recognizing the sincerity in his tone.

  “I see…” she said softly. “Even so, thank you.”

  Nanami waved goodbye with her usual boundless energy as the two of them walked away. Sora watched her leave, a warm feeling blooming in his chest. The sight of the earrings swaying beside her hair remained etched in his mind as they disappeared down the path lit by the fading sunset.

  Later that evening, the Eryndel family was gathered in the dining room, preparing for dinner. The glow of the manaquartz lamps bathed the table in soft, warm light, and the atmosphere was peaceful, accompanied by the gentle clinking of cutlery and the occasional laugh.

  But suddenly, the calm was broken by a strained groan.

  “Mmm…” Tsukari pressed her fists against her lap.

  Another groan followed, stronger this time.

  Alvaron, already half out of his seat, looked at her in alarm.

  “Tsukari…?”

  She breathed with difficulty, and between short gasps managed to say:

  “I think… it’s time… The baby is coming.”

  Silence turned into chaos immediately. Chairs scraped, cutlery fell, and everyone stood up at the same time.

  “Aeris, help me take Tsukari to the room!” Alvaron ordered with a firm voice, though his expression betrayed his worry.

  “Yes, sir!” Aeris replied as she rushed to support Tsukari by the arm, her movements calm from practice but her eyes shining with urgency.

  Seralya also stood abruptly, circling the table to assist them. “I’ll go fetch the doctor from the village,” she announced. “I’ll be back right away. Aeris, stay with her, and Sora”

  “Understood!” Sora answered, though his voice came out louder than he intended.

  In a matter of seconds, the dining room was empty. With hurried steps, Alvaron and Aeris helped Tsukari ascend the stairs to the main bedroom. The woman’s breathing was uneven, though she maintained her composure admirably. Once she was on the bed, Aeris and Seralya began preparing everything.

  Sora, standing by the doorway, watched without knowing what to do.

  “How can I help?” he asked, restless.

  Aeris answered firmly, without taking her eyes off Tsukari:

  “Go call the other maids. Tell them to bring clean towels and hot water, quickly.”

  “Yes!” Sora bolted off.

  He rushed down the stairs two at a time toward the servants’ quarters. The moment he shouted, “My mother is in labor!” the women ran out without hesitation, their faces a mix of nerves and trained efficiency.

  Soon after, the upper hallway filled again with footsteps and hurried voices. Sora returned, but upon reaching the room he stopped. His heart was pounding, but his hands had no idea what to do. He didn’t want to get in anyone’s way.

  He leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath. From inside, he could hear Aeris’s instructions, Seralya’s calming words, and Tsukari’s labored breath.

  I’m still a child, even if I don’t look like it, he thought, pushing down the anxiety eating at him. In situations like this, helping means not getting in the way…

  So he remained there, steadfast, by the door of the room, as if his very presence could protect his mother from any danger.

  A short while later, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the hallway. The doctor, the same gray-haired, calm-mannered man Sora had met more than a year ago arrived accompanied by a young assistant carrying a leather bag filled with tools and vials. Both entered the room without wasting a second, and the door closed behind them with a soft click.

  Alvaron approached Sora, who was still stationed in front of the door. He placed a firm hand on his son’s shoulder, using that steady yet gentle tone he reserved for moments when he needed to transmit calm.

  “It’s alright, son. It’s late,” he said in a deep but affectionate voice. “Let us take care of the rest.”

  Sora looked up at him, hesitating for a moment. Part of him wanted to stay, even if he couldn’t do anything. But the certainty in his father’s expression convinced him.

  “Alright, Father…” he murmured, nodding slowly.

  He bowed lightly and walked down the hallway toward his room. The house was wrapped in the stillness of the night, broken only by the muffled echoes of voices on the other side of the corridor. Once he closed the door, the boy let himself fall onto the bed, still fully dressed.

  Exhaustion washed over him, but the emotion of the moment kept his eyes open.

  She’s almost here… I’m going to have a sibling, he thought, a mix of nervousness and tenderness blooming in his chest. Everything will be fine… Mother is strong, and the doctor is already here.

  For several minutes he tossed and turned on the bed, staring at the ceiling faintly illuminated by the bluish glow of the manacuarzo lamp. The distant murmuring of adults drifted away little by little until only the soft hum of the wind against the window remained.

  Finally, the fatigue of the day overpowered his restlessness.

  Sora closed his eyes… and let sleep take him, wearing a peaceful smile, certain that when he awoke, a new member of the family would have arrived into the world.

  The next morning, Sora woke at his usual hour. He was no longer the child who slept late; ever since he had begun lessons with Master Seralya, his body had adjusted to the discipline of early mornings.

  For an instant, as he lay beneath the warm sheets, his mind still hazy from sleep forgot how the previous night had ended. But as his thoughts arranged themselves, he shot upright, heart racing.

  “That’s right!” he whispered to himself. “There’s something important I have to do!”

  Without wasting a second, he got out of bed. He still wore yesterday’s clothes; he hadn’t even changed before falling asleep. He simply slipped on his shoes and stepped out of the room with quick but quiet steps.

  The hallway was wrapped in an almost sacred silence, interrupted only by the faint murmur of the wind slipping through the windows. When he reached his parents’ room, Sora raised his hand timidly and knocked gently on the door.

  After a moment, it opened slightly, revealing the serene, though visibly exhausted face of Alvaron.

  “Don’t make noise, son,” he whispered. “Your mother and she are sleeping, but you may come in.”

  Sora nodded quietly and crossed the threshold, holding his breath as if any sound might shatter the moment.

  Inside, the room was peaceful. The bluish glow of a manacuarzo lamp bathed everything in soft light, reflecting off the curtains and furniture. Tsukari rested against the pillows, her expression one of pure serenity, and in her arms lay a small bundle wrapped in pale blankets.

  Sora approached with slow steps. His eyes, filled with a mixture of awe and tenderness, settled on the face of his new sister. She was tiny, fragile, her skin smooth with a faint rosy tint on her cheeks. She slept deeply, with a peace that seemed to seep into Sora as well.

  “There is your sister, Sora,” Alvaron whispered with a tired smile, placing a hand on his son’s shoulder. “We named her… Kanade.”

  The name echoed in Sora’s mind, soft and musical.

  “Kanade…” he repeated, barely above a whisper, tasting the sound as if it were a sacred melody.

  But something unsettled him. Looking closer, he noticed the absence of the markings he himself bore on his face… and the lack of a horn on her forehead. The memory of Astaria’s words returned to him like a distant echo:

  “When a female vasto sapiens bears children, only the first inherits the full blood. In that child rests the mother’s divine essence.”

  Sora lowered his gaze, and without thinking, reached up to touch his own horn, brushing the tip with his fingertips. Then he traced the marks on his cheek, a quiet sadness flowing through him.

  So it was true, he thought. We really are the last.

  And yet, as he watched Kanade breathe softly in their mother’s arms, a warm resolve wrapped around him. Perhaps being the last also meant being the guardian of everything that needed protecting.

  Alvaron interrupted Sora’s thoughts, saying:

  “Let’s go to the dining room, son. Aeris should have breakfast ready; we can talk there.”

  Sora nodded, and the two of them walked together down the upper floor corridor. The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, tinting the doorframes with a golden glow. The house was quieter than usual; it held the kind of calm that lingers after an intense night.

  Seralya wasn’t there that morning. Apparently, just like Alvaron and the others, she had stayed awake through the entire night helping with the birth, and was now resting. Sora felt relieved; that meant no magic practice today. I guess Kanade gave me my first day off, he thought with a small smile.

  Once in the dining room, Aeris served them breakfast with her usual grace, though the dark circles under her eyes and her slow steps betrayed the fact that she had barely slept. The aroma of toasted bread and warm honey filled the air, accompanied by the faint whistle of the steaming tea in their cups.

  “Aeris,” Alvaron said gently as he lifted his cup, “take the rest of the day off. Thank you for helping Tsukari last night.”

  She bowed her head gratefully.

  “It’s an honor, Master Alvaron. Thank you for your consideration. I’ll go rest, then.”

  After those words, Aeris went upstairs toward her room. The sound of her footsteps faded slowly, leaving the dining room wrapped in peaceful silence, broken only by the soft crackling of the fire beneath the tea kettle.

  Alvaron was the first to break the quiet:

  “So, what do you think of your little sister? You’re the older brother now, Sora.”

  Sora took a moment, chewed slowly, and then replied with genuine excitement:

  “She’s adorable! I can’t wait for her to grow up so I can play with her. I’m sure she’ll get along great with Nanami when she’s older.”

  Alvaron let out a deep laugh, one of those hearty ones that filled the room.

  “That much is certain. With how energetic and friendly Nanami is, I have no doubt.”

  Sora couldn’t argue with that; his father was absolutely right. For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine it: a taller Nanami, with the same bright smile, running around the garden with a tiny Kanade chasing after her, both laughing. Just the thought warmed his chest.

  “And you, Father?” Sora asked at last. “Aren’t you tired? It was a long night. You should rest.”

  Alvaron leaned back in his chair with a faint smile.

  “It’s nothing, Sora. One sleepless night doesn’t mean much to someone who spent years adventuring and keeping watch at night to protect his party.”

  Sora looked at him, unsure of how to respond. His father clearly looked exhausted, his eyes slightly reddened, yet he still carried that firm, almost unshakable energy. He’s definitely a machine, Sora thought with a quiet smile.

  After breakfast, Alvaron and Sora remained at the table a little longer, chatting about trivial things while the scent of tea slowly faded between them. The house was peaceful; only the soft chirping of birds outside and the occasional creak of the wood broke the silence.

  Suddenly, a firm knock echoed from the front door. Knock, knock.

  They exchanged curious glances.

  “I’ll get it,” Alvaron said as he stood and walked toward the entrance.

  Sora followed a few seconds later, intrigued. When he arrived, he saw his father speaking with a young man barely twenty years old, who was standing beside a small wooden handcart he seemed to be struggling to hold steady. Inside it, Sora immediately recognized the metallic shapes he had been waiting for.

  “Finally!” he exclaimed, unable to hide his smile.

  Alvaron looked at him with amusement, enjoying the pure excitement on his son’s face. There was something comforting about seeing Sora so enthusiastic about his own projects; it reminded him of his own youth in every one of the boy’s gestures.

  “Good morning,” greeted the young messenger, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “I’m delivering Master Garrik’s order. Where would you like me to unload it?”

  “Please follow me to the backyard,” Sora replied without losing his excitement.

  The young man nodded, and together they crossed the hallway toward the back of the house, with Alvaron walking behind them, hands clasped behind his back, curious to see what his son had commissioned.

  Once in the yard, the messenger began unloading the two double-roller devices Sora had designed, placing them carefully on the ground with a dull thud. Beside them, he also set down the large cylindrical cauldron with its iron lid, as well as several tools wrapped in linen: hammers, tongs, and other implements.

  Sora knelt down to inspect the contents with bright eyes, running his fingers over the perfectly polished rollers, checking their weight, the texture of the metal, and the finish of each piece. It was exactly what he had asked for.

  However, when he checked the rest, he raised an eyebrow.

  “This…” he murmured, looking at the additional tools. “I’m pretty sure these weren’t part of the order.”

  The young messenger smiled with a hint of shyness.

  “They’re a gift from Master Garrik. He said it was his way of thanking you for trusting him with such a curious job.”

  Sora straightened up and replied with a genuine smile:

  “I really appreciate the gesture. Please give him my thanks, and send him my regards.”

  “I will, young master Sora,” the boy said with a small bow.

  Satisfied, Alvaron signed the delivery document with his usual calmness and told the young man:

  “We’ll send the payment first thing tomorrow morning.”

  The messenger nodded, climbed onto his now-empty cart, and after one last polite bow, headed down the stone path.

  Sora remained standing for a moment, observing his new instruments under the morning light. The metal shimmered softly, reflecting the mixture of awe and restrained excitement on his face. He couldn’t wait to begin.

  Alvaron studied the newly delivered metal rollers with genuine curiosity. He walked up to one of them, running his hand across the smooth surface as he inspected it carefully.

  “To make paper… you need two clothes wringers?” he asked with a half-smile, raising an eyebrow. “Aren’t the rollers too close together?”

  Sora let out a brief laugh.

  “No, no, father, not for clothes. They’re for pressing the paper,” he explained, pointing at each part of the device. “One is for flattening it and squeezing out a bit of the water, and the other needs to be heated so it can dry the sheet partially. You’ll see once it’s working. But I won’t start today… it would be disrespectful to make noise while everyone is resting.”

  For a moment, Alvaron looked at him in silence. That answer had caught him off guard. He had expected his son to jump at the chance to experiment immediately with his “new toys,” as he used to call them. Instead, he found a surprising maturity in his tone and expression.

  “I see…” he murmured at last, allowing a proud smile to slip through. “Very well, son. I’m glad to see you think that way. I look forward to seeing the results of your work.”

  Sora nodded, trying to hide the small smile of pride that escaped him for having surprised his father in such a good way.

  Alvaron straightened up, rolling his shoulders a little.

  “Well, I’ll head to my study. I have a few matters to review before lunch,” he said before heading up to the second floor.

  Sora watched him until he disappeared from sight. Then he turned toward the patio, once again looking at the tools that had just arrived. The midday light fell over the polished metal, and in its reflection he could see not only his own face, but also a small glimpse of what he wanted to build in this world.

  The rest of the day passed with an unusual calm. Lunch was simple: freshly baked bread, warm stew, and fruit from the orchard. The house seemed wrapped in that serenity that always follows a long, turbulent night.

  Sora decided not to go out. He spent most of the afternoon in his room, a piece of pergalino spread over his desk and a stick of charcoal between his fingers, tracing the roadmap of his project. Each black line was an attempt to organize the ideas spinning constantly in his mind: preparing the fibers, boiling the mixture, pressing, drying…

  The silence was broken only by the scratch of charcoal on linen. Sometimes he raised his gaze, watching how the sun tinted the sky in amber as it descended.

  Nanami hadn’t come that afternoon. He could tell. Her family had surely heard about Kanade’s birth, and they probably didn’t want Nanami showing up today.

  I suppose that’s the right thing… he thought with a small smile.

  The day slid by peacefully until a soft knock echoed at his door.

  “I’m coming,” he replied, setting the charcoal aside.

  When he opened it, he found the tall, serene figure of Master Seralya. The light from the hallway reflected in her silver eyes, though they weren’t shining with their usual calm, there was something different this time, a quiet weight in her expression.

  “Master?” he asked respectfully, bowing as usual.

  Seralya watched him for a few seconds before responding in a firm voice, though slightly strained.

  “Did you think you’d get away from today’s practice?” she said with a faint smile, polite yet rehearsed. “It’s not morning, not at all but… let’s get to it.”

  Sora hurried to follow her without complaint. Together they walked down the hallway toward the study, where the air felt a little thicker than usual. From there, they descended the hidden staircase, the light of the manaquartz lamps flickering as they passed.

  Seralya walked in silence, more rigid than ever. Sora, not understanding the reason for her tension, didn’t give it much thought. He only assumed, with a mixture of respect and resignation:

  I guess today will be another day of intense training…

  Upon reaching the hidden room, Sora immediately noticed something different.

  The place, usually cluttered with dust and forgotten objects, looked strangely tidy. Someone undoubtedly Master Seralya had moved the old junk that normally covered the rickety sofa at the back. Now it was clean, prepared, as if something important was expected to happen that night.

  The air carried a faint scent of incense and old metal—the kind of aroma left behind by magical artifacts when they were freshly activated.

  Sora followed his teacher with cautious steps as she approached a small leather case resting on a table. She opened it carefully, as if it held something of immense value.

  From inside, she took out an object that, at first glance, looked like a necklace… but not quite. It was more like a set of two pieces connected by a thin golden chain: a choker shaped like a diadem adorned with an emerald gem at the back, and another piece, sturdier, with a topaz-colored stone that seemed to absorb the surrounding light.

  The metal was engraved with runes so tiny that Sora could barely distinguish them, yet he felt a faint vibration in the air, as if the artifact were breathing.

  Seralya sat beside him on the sofa and watched him with a calm that didn’t feel entirely natural.

  “Well, Sora,” she said at last, breaking the silence. “Today’s practice will be different. We won’t be working on meditation this time.”

  Her voice was firm, but there was something restrained in her tone, a shadow Sora couldn’t quite read.

  “After all these weeks of meditating, it’s time to move on to the next step,” she continued. “But to do that, I need to analyze the result meditation has had on you.”

  She lifted the artifact with both hands, letting it gleam under the torchlight.

  “For that, you’ll have to put this on. It’s a magical artifact that will help us with the process.”

  She handed him the end with the emerald gem. Sora, though confused, did not hesitate. He took the collar with curiosity and, just as she instructed, placed it around his neck, securing the back where the gem glowed faintly.

  Across from him, Seralya put on the other piece, the sturdier collar with the topaz gem. As she did, the golden chain linking them chimed with a sharp, almost hypnotic ring, and for an instant Sora felt as though the air itself had shifted.

  Once again, his teacher gave him further instructions, her voice soft, almost maternal:

  “Perfect. Now sit comfortably and relax as you do when you meditate. What you’ll feel next is drowsiness, and you must let yourself sink into that sensation. I will take care of the rest.”

  Sora nodded without asking questions, already used to obeying her. He settled onto the sofa, letting his back sink into the worn velvet. He closed his eyes.

  At first, he felt only the cold touch of the metal around his neck and the faint pulse of the gem behind his head, as if his heartbeat had synchronized with the artifact’s rhythm.

  Then, a warm wave flowed through his body slow, enveloping.

  His thoughts began to lose weight. The room, the lamps, even the soft sound of Seralya’s breathing… everything grew distant.

  It was a strangely pleasant feeling, like those afternoons when he fell asleep under the shade of the White Crest Tree when Nanami wasn’t with him.

  Drowsiness cradled him; his mind drifted between memories, between the border of sleep and wakefulness.

  The last thought that crossed his mind before darkness swallowed him was the green glow of the pendant on his neck.

  After that, nothing.

  Beside him, Seralya watched as his body fully relaxed. Sora’s breathing grew slow, deep.

  With trembling hands, the teacher closed her eyes and activated the artifact, letting the topaz gem on her own collar begin to shine with an intense glow.

  The true function of the artifact had begun.

  And with it… the descent into Sora’s memories.

  Darkness.

  I can’t feel anything. It’s… a familiar sensation.

  A murmur drifted through his mind, a warm and foreign current. Before he could try to understand it, his eyelids lifted, and in a single blink he was plunged into a place that was not the world he knew.

  Before him stretched a landscape… or rather, a fragment of one.

  The White Crest Tree.

  The same tree that had accompanied him countless times, but now frozen beneath a starless sky. There was no wind. The blossoms did not sway. The air felt suspended, heavy, trapped in a perpetual instant.

  Sora frowned, taking a step forward, and his voice echoed weakly against the stillness:

  “What is this…?”

  Then, a familiar voice enveloped him, deep and distant at first, until it became sharp, clear, so real that he felt the echo in his chest.

  “Very well, Sora,” Seralya said. “Now that you’re here, there is no turning back. There is no escape.”

  Sora’s heart jolted.

  That phrase… no escape?

  A cold, piercing shiver ran down his spine.

  The suspicions he had tried to suppress over the past few days surged back with force.

  What if Seralya truly worked for the Conclave?

  What if all of this was a trap, a way to hand him over?

  “No… it can’t be…” he whispered, taking a step back.

  But before fear could fully coil around his thoughts, Seralya’s voice echoed again, closer this time, as if her words seeped directly into his mind:

  “I can hear your thoughts, Sora.”

  Her tone was calm, almost sorrowful.

  “I’ll ignore what you were thinking just now, and I’ll explain what’s happening.”

  Sora froze. He didn’t even dare to breathe.

  “Ever since I arrived,” she continued, “I’ve been intrigued by who you are. What your intentions are. It’s obvious you’re not who you claim to be… and I need to know whether I can truly trust you, or whether you’re a threat.”

  The words hung in the air, heavy, unavoidable.

  Sora didn’t know what to say. Every thought, every memory, felt caught in an invisible net. All he could feel was the blend of uncertainty and fear paralyzing him as the motionless world of the White Crest Tree slowly shifted, tinged by a faint glow like memory itself beginning to stir awake.

  After recovering from the initial shock, Sora swallowed hard and murmured, voice tense but steady:

  “What do you mean, Master? Does that mean that all this time your harsh attitude toward me was because you didn’t trust me?”

  Seralya fell silent for a few seconds, looking at him with an expression wavering between doubt and guilt. Finally, she replied:

  “It isn’t a matter of not wanting to trust you, Sora. I’m doing this because I want to trust you. But in order to do so… I need to see who you really are. I need to understand your purpose, your intentions.”

  Her words didn’t sound like an accusation, but like an honest plea. Hearing them, Sora let out a faint sigh. His shoulders loosened. That wasn’t the voice of an enemy.

  “Very well, Master,” he said, lowering his gaze. “If that’s what you want, then look at my memories… the ones from my previous life. But I should warn you” he added, a hint of sadness in his voice, “what you’re going to see won’t be pleasant.”

  “I’m prepared for whatever comes,” Seralya replied with a solemnity that felt almost ritualistic.

  In that moment, an intense green-and-gold light burst from the gems of the artifact. Sora felt a pull in his chest, as if something inside him were being torn loose, and then…

  Nothing.

  A single blink was enough for the void to vanish.

  The stiffness of the sofa disappeared beneath him and, all at once, he felt the rough texture of a polished floor. The air smelled of paint and chalk dust. And the murmur of children’s voices echoed in his ears.

  Sora opened his eyes, and his breath caught.

  He was no longer in Elythera.

  “Th-this is…” he whispered, before noticing his own hands. Small. Fragile. Human.

  He was inside Adriel’s body.

  He saw through his eyes, felt his pulse, but couldn’t move him. It was like watching a film… living every emotion the protagonist felt.

  Beside him, a troubled voice broke the silence.

  “W-what is this…?” Seralya asked, utterly bewildered. “What is this world?”

  Sora answered calmly, though inside him everything trembled with nostalgia and unease.

  “This is the world I come from, Master. A world without magic… a world where humanity advanced only through ingenuity and invention.”

  Seralya’s eyes darted everywhere, trying to take it all in. Around her, tall buildings, artificial lights, metallic sounds, and the voices of hundreds of people overwhelmed her senses.

  “It’s… simply unbelievable…” she murmured, pressing a hand to her chest. “What are those things moving through the streets? And why are the roads so… smooth and cold?”

  Sora let out a faint, wistful sigh.

  “As I said, there’s no magic in that world. Those machines are called automobiles. People use them to travel without horses. How they work… is complicated. If you want, once we finish going through my memories, I’ll explain anything you wish.”

  As they spoke, little Adriel, barely five years old was running joyfully through a school hallway, laughing among children carrying colorful backpacks. His first day of classes.

  The excitement.

  The innocence.

  The brightness in his eyes.

  Sora watched it all with a knot tightening in his chest.

  He had forgotten how warm that moment had felt… right before the world began losing its color.

  Seralya drifted, almost floating, through the river of memories that didn’t belong to Sora, but to Adriel.

  Each scene unfolded before her like a fractured crystal, showing a life not her own… yet lived with such vivid intensity that she could feel the air, the warmth, and the sorrow of each moment.

  She watched the child grow, year after year.

  Innocent games mixed with muffled arguments between his parents. The smiles remained… but they were more fragile, more forced.

  The walls of his small home seemed to shrink, burdened with a silent tension that Seralya could feel pressing against her chest.

  Sora or rather, Adriel never stopped smiling, always trying to keep the light alive, even when the shadows were already slipping between the days.

  The teacher felt a tight knot in her throat. That resilience… that stubborn refusal to break. It was a strength she had never seen in a child.

  Then, the stream of memories halted.

  Seralya found herself looking at a ten-year-old Adriel, sitting in the living room of his home. His parents were arguing with a group of people.

  The tension was thick, the air sharp.

  Sora, from his current consciousness, swallowed hard. He knew exactly what was coming.

  The pain he was about to relive was one of the pillars that had shaped his former self.

  Feeling the tremor within Sora, Seralya understood that this moment was crucial.

  Now she realized: the artifact didn’t just show memories it made you feel them. All the emotional weight of each scene passed through both of them.

  The voices in the memory grew clearer.

  The “friends” of his parents spoke of a “promising opportunity,” of riches, of a brilliant future. There were laughs, clinking glasses, promises of prosperity.

  But as the memory shifted a few months forward, all laughter vanished.

  The same faces that once smiled now looked at them with disdain, with ice-cold detachment.

  Adriel’s parents begged for explanations, but all they received were empty words and a slammed door.

  The scene darkened.

  The colors of the world seemed to drain away, turning into a palette of muted browns and greys.

  Seralya felt a profound discomfort, a sting of frustration and disappointment that wasn’t hers… yet pierced right through her.

  That betrayal… that raw, mundane helplessness… left her speechless.

  For the first time in a very long while, the ancient scribe felt fear.

  Not of the child, but of the weight he carried.

  A weight so immense that even her millennia of magic seemed incapable of holding it.

  And still, she said nothing.

  She did not interrupt the flow.

  She simply moved forward.

  Moved forward knowing that what came next would be harsher, but also far more revealing.

  Advancing a few more years, the memories settled into a different image.

  Adriel was no longer a child.

  He was a sixteen-year-old boy with tired eyes, slightly hunched shoulders… and a smile that never quite reached his eyes.

  The environment flickered with cold lights, screens, and metallic sounds.

  A grey world disguised as something colorful.

  Seralya, unable to fully grasp what she was seeing, could only feel.

  And what she felt was emptiness.

  Adriel pretended to be sociable.

  He greeted others, joked, smiled easily.

  But beneath that mask, his soul was quietly falling apart.

  He had learned to distrust.

  To expect nothing.

  To keep a safe distance between himself and everyone else.

  He was a young man trapped in a cycle with no escape, taking refuge in the fictional stories he found behind screens.

  They were his only escape… a painkiller for a wound that never stopped bleeding.

  Seralya placed a hand over her chest, shaken.

  She could not understand how such a young soul could contain so much hopelessness… so much loneliness.

  A murmur escaped her lips, not quite forming a word.

  A lament.

  A silent compassion.

  The memories continued on.

  The scenery shifted.

  Now, Adriel was in a place crowded with people, carrying a large suitcase.

  The air smelled of metal, of artificial cleanliness.

  Footsteps and murmurs echoed beneath a tall ceiling lined with white lights.

  Seralya did not know what this place was, this temple of iron and glass but she sensed something different.

  For the first time in years, Adriel felt something warm.

  A spark of hope.

  The boy walked toward a moving belt and set his luggage on it slowly.

  His heart was beating fast.

  He was about to leave… toward the unknown.

  Hours later, the memory carried them to another moment of that same day.

  Adriel stood before his family.

  His mother hugged him tightly; his father tried to hide his emotions behind a calm smile.

  There were tears held back, quiet farewells.

  Adriel felt each one like thorns in his chest, though he didn’t show it.

  He had to be strong.

  When he stepped onto the escalator, he looked at them one last time from above.

  Their faces grew smaller with each rising step.

  And in his mind echoed a thought… one that tore at Sora’s soul even now:

  “Maybe I’ll never see them again.”

  Sora, inside his own memory, shuddered.

  He asked for the scene to stop.

  Seralya, silently, nodded and halted the flow of the artifact.

  Both of them stood in that limbo, between light and shadow, facing the frozen image of a farewell that seemed to stretch into eternity.

  Sora’s heart tightened.

  That last look.

  That restrained gesture.

  Even after so many years, the pain lived just as vividly.

  He didn’t say a single word.

  But Seralya felt it.

  The ache filled everything, his throat, his chest, his mind.

  And she felt it too.

  For the first time since the ritual began, Seralya’s hands trembled.

  Her breathing faltered, her eyes glistened.

  It wasn’t just Sora’s sadness.

  It was Adriel’s.

  That deep, silent, solitary sorrow… now lived in her as well.

  “What a cruel loneliness…” she whispered, unable to contain the emotion.

  And for the first time since meeting Sora, Seralya understood that this child… wasn’t just a prodigy.

  He was a survivor.

  The darkness of the limbo dissolved once more, giving way to the next scene.

  A metallic roar filled the space.

  Seralya instinctively covered her ears as the colossal machine rose before her gleaming steel, impossible wings.

  “What… is that…?” she whispered, without receiving an answer.

  Sora, no, Adriel, walked among the crowd toward the gate of that mechanical giant, dragging his suitcase with steady steps but a torn heart.

  The interior was narrow, packed with seats and tiny windows through which a cloudy sky peeked.

  When the machine began to move, a thunderous surge of power shook her.

  Seralya lost all sense of balance as she felt the pressure and the sudden ascent.

  The world shrank beneath them.

  For the first time, with an involuntary shiver, she understood what it meant to fly without magic.

  Time blurred. Hours collapsed into seconds.

  Finally, the roar ceased, and the memory carried them to another land.

  Adriel walked out with his backpack, the air different, the voices unfamiliar.

  A new world received him

  not with warmth,

  but with indifference.

  Seralya watched how that initial spark in his eyes lasted only a few months.

  Adriel adapted quickly to the new language, to unfamiliar faces, to the routine.

  But loneliness…

  that followed him everywhere.

  And little by little, hope turned into cynicism.

  “So much accumulated pain… how could he keep going like that?” Seralya murmured, barely audible.

  The memory shifted again.

  A year later, Adriel walked through gray streets beneath a soulless sky.

  Around him: artificial lights, machine noises, empty faces.

  The same emptiness he felt inside.

  He had believed the problem was his home, his environment

  that everything would get better once he left.

  But he was wrong.

  The pain wasn’t from the place…

  it was from the soul.

  And that realization shattered him.

  Seralya felt it in every breath, in the trembling of his hands, in that thought burning in Adriel’s chest like fire smoldering in ashes:

  “No matter where I go… everything stays the same.”

  A bitter expression twisted across Sora’s face as he relived that moment.

  Seralya pressed a hand against her chest, feeling a tightness that wasn’t hers, yet consumed her all the same.

  The air grew thick.

  The silence unbearable.

  Then, without looking at her, Sora spoke with a trembling voice:

  “Continue, master… please…”

  She nodded softly, wiping her tears in secret before reactivating the artifact.

  The gem on the collar glowed deeper, and the next scene took shape.

  The air smelled of rain.

  The room was small, lit only by the glow of a computer monitor.

  The digital clock showed an ungodly hour.

  Adriel sat there, alone, his eyes empty before a screen full of documents and unfinished words.

  Five years had passed since Adriel’s farewell to his parents.

  The room was barely lit by the bluish glow of the monitor; the constant flicker of the screen cast tired shadows across his face. He closed the documents he had been working on for hours, the soft click sounding like a small sigh of surrender, and opened the first video that appeared on his screen.

  Images of impossible machines, weapons that defied logic, ideas that only existed in other people’s dreams… things that once would have made his eyes shine.

  Not anymore.

  There was no shine left.

  The fascination he once felt had become a hollow routine, a clumsy attempt to escape a life quietly falling apart. That night, like every other, he shut down the computer and let himself fall onto the bed without even changing clothes. His body felt heavier than ever, as if gravity itself had singled him out.

  He had gone through dozens of jobs, and in none of them had he felt he belonged; each day was an exact copy of the last.

  “This is what I got.”

  That phrase repeated in his head like an echo that no longer hurt.

  As sleep pulled him under, his thoughts sank into apathy and exhaustion:

  Another day tomorrow… people I don’t care about… who don’t value my efforts… empty smiles… staying in a place I don’t belong.

  The pressure in his chest began as a small knot, a reminder of his exhaustion, but soon it became sharp, suffocating, crushing.

  He didn’t try to move.

  He didn’t try to call for help.

  He only exhaled a short sigh, surrendering to the same gray fate he had always expected.

  Seralya, watching from outside, felt that pressure too. It was as if an invisible weight pressed against her own chest. She trembled, gripping the edge of her robe while Adriel’s ethereal body faded into the shadows of the memory.

  The world darkened.

  Silence.

  Nothing.

  And then, a spark.

  A thought:

  “Darkness… I feel nothing.”

  A moment later, a warm light bathed the void, soft as a sunrise without a sun. Adriel slowly opened his eyes.

  Before him stretched a landscape impossible to describe in human words:

  a field covered in glowing grass,

  a breeze that did not blow,

  and above all, that presence…

  A woman, serene of face, watched him in silence as he rested upon her lap. Her touch was warm, her gaze deep. The air itself seemed to sing around her.

  And for the first time in a very long time, Adriel or what remained of him felt no pain.

  Seralya continued watching that part of Adriel’s memories… or rather, Sora’s.

  The scene before her left her utterly breathless: the place radiated an ethereal calm, bathed in a golden light that didn’t seem to come from any sun, but from the very essence of the realm itself.

  And there she was… a woman of impossible beauty, a serene voice, and a sacred presence.

  The goddess Astaria.

  Every word she spoke resonated through that space as if the air itself repeated it, vibrating with a harmonic cadence that made the very fibers of the soul tremble. Seralya, unable to look away, felt a shiver run through her entire body. In all the centuries she had lived, she had never once seen a deity… and now she was witnessing a direct conversation between a goddess and a human soul.

  The information she heard was priceless.

  No book, no codex, not even the oldest records of the Conclave contained a single fragment of what she was now witnessing.

  It was the true origin of Auralpha… but beyond that, the revelation of something far greater: the system of the Arka, a cosmic framework of worlds that coexisted under the gaze of the gods.

  Astaria spoke with gentleness, with a melancholy only a mother could hold.

  She revealed to Sora his mission, showed him the threads of a destiny far larger than himself, and yet… gave him absolute freedom to choose his path.

  Seralya watched intently as Sora, without hesitation, chose among the many options the Eryndel family. That pure choice, born from the desire to live with love and purpose, pierced the ancient mage’s defenses like a shaft of light.

  And then came the moment of farewell or rather, the moment of until we meet again.

  Astaria placed her hand on the young soul’s head, caressing him with a tenderness that transcended the vision itself. The golden radiance enveloped them both, and Seralya felt a pressure in her chest, as if something within her had cracked.

  The memories began to change.

  There was no longer darkness, nor the sterile void of the other world.

  There was light.

  The soft touch of maternal hands, the laughter of a child, the sound of rain tapping against the rooftops of Rulid.

  Seralya witnessed everything:

  the love of Tsukari and Alvaron,

  the patience and warmth of Aeris,

  the innocent laughter shared with Nanami,

  the days spent beneath the White Crest tree…

  Every moment overflowed with a different color, a life breaking through with strength, vibrant and real.

  And Seralya understood then the true meaning of that soul.

  He wasn’t a threat.

  He wasn’t a pretender.

  He was a spirit who had carried far too much pain and had finally found a place he could call home.

  Her heart tightened as the truth settled in.

  Tears began to fall without permission, warm and silent.

  Not out of pity… but out of a mixture of guilt, tenderness, and admiration.

  The soul she once believed dangerous… was the purest she had seen in centuries.

  “He only wants to live. He only wants to protect what he loves.”

  For the first time in centuries, Seralya felt peace.

  When the memory sequence ended, Seralya removed the magical artifact at once. Her hands were trembling, yet she hurried to unfasten the other end from Sora’s neck. The gemstone dimmed slowly, its greenish glow fading like a sigh.

  Sora opened his eyes gradually, blinking in confusion. His head felt light, as if he had just woken from an overly deep sleep. He barely managed to focus on the figure in front of him when, without warning, Seralya threw her arms around him in a tight embrace.

  "You fool…" she whispered between sobs, her voice cracking under the weight of emotion. "Why did you focus so much on the memories? The more you did, the stronger the feelings became… By Astaria, how… how could someone carry all of that without breaking…?"

  Her words dissolved into tears. Her breathing was unsteady, and the soft echo of her crying blended with the faint residual hum of the artifact resting on the table.

  Sora, still disoriented, looked at her with quiet gentleness. Her reaction surprised him, but deep down he understood it completely. Despite how painful it had been to relive everything, he didn’t feel sad… not entirely. He had seen his parents again. He had heard their voices, felt their warmth, even if only for an instant. For him, that alone was worth any bitterness.

  With a calm motion, he raised his arms and returned the embrace. There were no words—only the muffled sound of Seralya’s crying against his shoulder. She trembled, holding onto him as if afraid he would vanish before her eyes.

  The silence that followed was dense, yet not uncomfortable.

  The basement air carried that earthy scent, mixed with the lingering incense Seralya often used in her practices. The manacuarzo lamp on the wall cast a soft, warm light, brushing the scene with a melancholic serenity.

  And so they remained like that for a long while, saying nothing.

  Because in the end, even if she tried to make it seem like she was comforting her student… it was Sora who was comforting her.

  And he did so with such quiet, pure understanding that even the ancient artifact, now fully dormant seemed to have settled into peace.

  After a while in silence, broken only by the faint flicker of the manacuarzo lamp, Sora was the first to speak, trying to ease the heaviness lingering in the air.

  "Alright, alright… it’s over now, Master," he said with a tired yet warm smile. "I did warn you that what you were going to see wouldn’t be pleasant. Although, being honest, I’m grateful you used that artifact on me."

  "Does this mean that distant atmosphere you kept with me is finally going to end?" he added with a faintly playful tone. "I’d really like to start over with you."

  Seralya, still with her cheeks wet, slowly pulled away from his chest. The contact had calmed her, but embarrassment began to tint her expression. She wiped her tears with her sleeve and took a deep breath before responding.

  "I admit I was wrong, Sora…" she whispered, her voice still trembling. "I’m sorry. But now I feel more at ease knowing you’re not a threat."

  She lowered her gaze for a moment before adding with a hint of guilt, "Although… I do feel ashamed for having to deceive you in order to use that artifact."

  Sora leaned back slightly, adopting a relaxed posture as his expression softened.

  "If it makes you feel any better," he said with a crooked smile, "all this time I was also afraid that you were some agent of Selmyra, trying to find a way to kidnap me and take me to her… or destroy me on the spot. So, we can consider it a draw."

  Seralya blinked in surprise for a moment and then, unable to contain herself, let out a small laugh mixed with a sigh.

  "Fool…" she murmured, shaking her head as a genuine smile finally formed on her face.

  Sora laughed softly too, carried by the relief of the moment. The tension that had kept them apart for weeks dissolved at last, leaving behind a warm calm in the air, as if they had crossed an invisible line into genuine trust.

  Seralya, her voice now serene but lighter than ever, straightened a little and looked at him with a calm smile.

  "Then… let’s start again, Sora. I am Seralya, and I will be your teacher in magic. But be prepared," she said, raising an eyebrow with a playful challenge, "because the lessons won’t be easy."

  Sora let out an honest laugh, that laugh of his that seemed to fill the room with life and replied with a wide grin:

  "And I’m Sora, and I’ll gladly be your apprentice, Master Seralya. But I hope you have patience… because I’m going to be the most hardheaded student you’ve ever had."

  For a moment, they simply looked into each other’s eyes. And in that silence there was no tension, no suspicion only mutual respect and an understanding that went far beyond words.

  And so, with a shared smile and the faint glow of the artifact’s gem still flickering weakly on the table, the conflict between master and student finally dissolved.

  What had once been a relationship marked by doubt became, that night, something entirely new: the true beginning of an alliance that would change their lives forever.

  Later that morning, Seralya was heading toward the dining room when, upon passing by the Eryndel family’s room, she heard Tsukari’s soft voice. She was awake, speaking gently to her newborn daughter. Seralya hesitated for a moment, but eventually knocked softly on the door.

  “Come in,” Tsukari answered kindly.

  Seralya opened the door and stepped inside. The atmosphere was warm, bathed in the golden light of dawn filtering through the curtains. Kanade slept deeply, wrapped in pale blankets, resting on her mother’s lap. Seralya approached, moved a chair beside the bed, and sat down with a serene smile.

  “She’s beautiful, Kanade,” she said tenderly. “She looks so peaceful… nothing like her brother.”

  Tsukari let out a soft laugh, caressing the baby’s cheek.

  “That’s true. Even as a newborn, Sora was quite restless. Tell me, Seralya… did you see anything important with that artifact? You seem calmer, as if you finally found what you’d been searching for.”

  Seralya kept her eyes on the little one as she replied in a gentle voice:

  “All I saw was someone passionate about the unknown, hungry for knowledge and with immense determination… someone who loves this world and the people around him. I’m glad I was wrong.”

  Tsukari nodded with a confident smile.

  “I told you, there’s no malice in Sora. He’s just an energetic boy… but his heart is pure.”

  Seralya could only nod, a faint smile crossing her lips.

  “You’re right, Tsukari,” she whispered, watching Kanade sleep peacefully in her mother’s arms, wrapped in the sweetest calm the home could offer.