With a casual finger-snap, the wall behind the monolith dissolved into light, becoming a door that opened with a dry, resonant thunk—like time itself clearing its throat.

  The group stepped through hesitantly into a space that laughed at every law of physics—and, with cruel irony, good taste too.

  Krafnner’s tower interior looked like liquid glass blown by a drunken Myriad. Pillars floated with no visible support, and walls… well, there weren’t any. Just windows. Each showing something different.

  One revealed a ruined city buried under black ash, green lightning cracking a purple sky.

  Another—a chain of upside-down mountains hovering above an ocean flowing upward.

  And the last…

  “Meow… is that a flying cart… with… fire wheels?” Layla blinked rapidly. Feline eyes dilated, tail puffed, thin trail of blood already dripping from her nose.

  “This one… is experiencing interdimensional vertigo,” Su Mei said, hugging her own shoulders in tragic pose.

  “That’s… that’s forbidden physics!” Nessa whispered, clutching her head. “That shouldn’t even be possible…”

  Jay, of course, looked perfectly calm. Somehow he seemed immune to the cosmic madness around him—like it was just another Monday.

  Amy yawned.

  “Boring. I was hoping the fire-wheel city would at least have a little festival.”

  That’s when they heard a magical click and a pendulum clock—swinging sideways—gave way to Krafnner’s figure.

  Tall, absurdly thin—like carved from faintly green marble. Eyes had no irises. No pupils. No… anything. Just two perfect glowing white circles. Pale-brown hair fell to shoulders, tied with black ribbon that probably was a fragment of space-time fabric.

  He floated slightly above floor—like gravity was merely a polite suggestion.

  “Who dares interrupt the sleep of a tired mage?” The question rolled through silence like muffled thunder—deep, hoarse, ancient as stones holding up world. Each syllable resonated straight into stomachs, forcing even lung air to bow.

  Layla reacted first. Fur bristled from tail-tip to ears; she let out almost childish meow:

  “M-miaaau… is this where we die?”

  Jay, meanwhile, kept composure. Squared shoulders, hand over heart, stepped forward with measured reverence of someone who knew exactly who he addressed. Voice firm, respectful:

  “Greetings, great Krafnner. I am Jay, paladin of Dalmástia. These are my companions: Layla, Nessa, Su Mei… and Amy. We come seeking answers.”

  Su Mei—impeccable even in most improper moments—gave elegant bow like before monarch. Expression serene, lips curved soft smile:

  “And to soften boldness of visit, this one brought tea biscuits.”

  Silence that followed was suffocating. Runes around wavered like laughing among themselves, but old mage didn’t move. Long seconds—only group’s breathing echoed hall.

  Then—with grumble seeming come from past ages—voice returned.

  “Hmm… biscuits accepted.”

  Nessa sighed so loud seemed return air to whole room. Half-elf hand to chest, whispered like thanking still-beating heart:

  “Phew… really, bringing snacks was good idea, Su Mei. Thank you…”

  Layla just crossed arms—still trembling—muttered low:

  “Phew… thanks to little cookies world saved… again, meow.”

  …

  Minutes later Krafnner delicately chewed lemon-tea biscuit—seeming happy. Or not. Impossible tell.

  Jay stood before him—Nessa’s sword rested on platform suspended by translucent light arcs. Blade still inert, dull. But… radiated warmth… and something more. Almost alive.

  Krafnner wiped fingers, moved them deftly—golden symbols spun air, humming combination bells, breaking crystal… and laughter?

  “Interesting…” He frowned.

  “Good interesting or bad interesting?” Jay asked—keeping neutral tone.

  “Unlikely interesting.”

  Krafnner passed fingers over more seals. Pattern began glow on blade: concentric circles, fractal lines, spiraling runes.

  “This is living Soma signature. Weapon is… conscious.”

  “…What?” Nessa eyes widened.

  “Elven signature. And… ancient. Very ancient. Pattern not just rare. Near extinct. Thousands years since saw similar. And only knew one elven mage mastered this.”

  He paused—staring void with lost expression.

  “Woman. Don’t recall name. Powerful. Solitary. And strangely attached to mortal lives.”

  Silence fell like blizzard.

  Nessa stepped forward—eyes glistening.

  “That… woman was my mother.”

  Everyone turned to her.

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  “She… sacrificed herself to free me. To bring me to mortal world. To deliver sword. I… was so lost when she left… So afraid…”

  Sword on platform seemed emit faint blue glow—like sigh.

  Krafnner looked at Nessa like seeing her truly first time.

  “That explains… a half-elf in this era. Elves don’t… attach. Much less conceive children with humans. Extremely rare. Our genetics and pride usually forbid. Would need very… special human lineage for compatibility.”

  Jay rested comforting hand on cleric’s shoulder—she wiped tears with robe edge. Layla looked away—pretending scratch nose. Su Mei bowed head in respect.

  “Does this change what you can do with sword?” Amy asked—hand on chin.

  “Yes. Changes.” Mage answered. “Now I must study it.”

  He looked at group with absolute naturalness.

  “Leave it with me.” Krafnner said like commenting weather. “Believe in maximum two hundred years I can formulate conclusive answers. Will pass in blink of eye.”

  Silence that followed so thick even floating runes hesitated move—like air itself choked.

  Jay blinked. Blinked again. Then scratched nape—embarrassed—like unsure whether thank or call mage lunatic.

  Nessa gasped like punched stomach—mouth open pure disbelief.

  Layla simply collapsed ground with feline plop!—tail splayed behind, eyes wide as plates.

  Su Mei managed faint gracefully—like stage maiden—falling sideways hand to forehead—like information more lethal than any poison.

  And Amy… Amy hand to mouth, eyes sparkling, let out contained giggle—almost fond.

  “Ah… I love this guy.”

  Runes resumed dance—like even magical symbols laughing at chaos.

  And—indifferent to group reactions—archmage just grumbled with naturalness of weather talk:

  “Very well. When return—don’t forget more biscuits. Preferably lemon-tea… others are mediocre.”

  …

  Sun died on horizon when group left Krafnner’s domains. Labyrinth became mist memory while they advanced along ancient trail of twisted roots and mossy stones.

  Journey silent. Outside.

  Inside—each fought own battle.

  Jay walked ahead—firm steps, cloak swaying cold mountain-forest wind. Sword—same mage said needed two centuries study—rested back, asleep. But not forgotten.

  Nessa walked slow. Head low. Eyes lost on path.

  Su Mei beside her—raven-feather fan open hands, walked geisha elegance… but fox eyes. Literally—irises golden, sparking mischief and care simultaneously.

  “This one believes tears not for watering soil, Miss Nessa,” said—fanning friend’s face like dispelling evil spirits. “But if for washing soul… then cry. Only five more minutes. After that—only smiles!”

  “That’s right, meow!” Layla appeared beside—arms crossed overhead, balancing axe like pillow. “That mage smelled like library moth and said complicated stuff too much for Layla brain… but you strong, Nessa. If mom left you alive… it’s because knew you worth it, right, meow?”

  Nessa smiled—weak but honest. Wiped eyes. Breathed deep.

  Jay glanced discreetly over shoulder. Saw scene.

  And kept walking.

  Farther back—Amy walked silent. Half-step behind all. Every three steps—slight gaze deviation.

  She looked at Jay.

  Again.

  And again.

  Each time different feeling. Like searching him answer for something even she didn’t fully understand. Memory perhaps. Doubt. Hope.

  “Why am I… so worried about him…?”

  Forest grew denser as daylight died. Night birds began sing, dry leaves crackled under boots.

  Amy narrowed eyes at darkening sky. And memory came.

  …

  It was Henm Festival in Edsoria. City packed. Floating lanterns colored streets autumn tones, stalls sold everything—golden fruits, magic powders, hot cinnamon-butter breads.

  Amy walked among stalls—simple overcoat. Not yet renowned mage she’d become. Not yet… anyone. Just Amy. Student. Lonely.

  Then she saw him.

  Long blue hair—like dawn before sun. Half-silver armor gleamed festival lights—but not that. Not that.

  Was smile.

  He stopped instant. Gaze met hers. Then smiled—corner-smile. Like already knew her.

  Amy eyes widened—dived behind stall of gypsy selling incense and spices curing “love disappointments and magic hangovers”.

  Heart hammered.

  When looked again… he there. Standing.

  “Hi, miss. I’m Jay. You must be Amy, right?”

  Amy froze.

  “How did he know…?”

  “My friends looking mage for some jobs… you look strong.”

  “…I look what?”

  “Strong. Smart too. And pretty.” He scratched nape—carefree. “But guess that’s kinda obvious.”

  She felt face burn to ears.

  And that’s how everything began.

  …

  “Amy?”

  Jay’s voice brought her back present.

  Forest now fully night—only Lunis pale light illuminating path under closed canopies. Group stopped clearing. Jay looked at her with same smile—calm, honest, too kind own good.

  “Camping with us or heading back tower? There is a Magic Circle nearby. I Can walk you if want.”

  Amy blinked. Once. Twice.

  “No need. I manage.” Said—slight head nod. Tone firm. Almost indifferent. But hand clenched staff trembled little. “No idiot creature would dare cross my path.”

  Jay smiled.

  “Alright then. Thanks for coming, Amy. Helped a lot.”

  She nodded.

  Nessa, Layla, Su Mei waved distant. Redhead raised hand reply—but said nothing.

  And without another word—Amy turned, vanished among forest trees—carrying doubts, longing, handful feelings no spell in world could decipher.

  …

  Forest slept.

  Branches rustled irregular—like whispering ancient secrets. Sky—Lunis pale half-hidden clouds—illuminated hidden camp faintly under closed canopies. Sissifus followed cycle—disappeared farther east (or west?). Smell burnt wood and damp earth filled air—mixed occasional cricket and dry-leaf crunch under small night animal.

  Jay sat beside fire—golden eyes fixed dancing flames mocking silence. Heat didn’t bother. Cold less. Accustomed quiet—sentinel role—always.

  Deep down—maybe excuse avoid dreams.

  Behind—improvised tent housed three girls. Layla slept sprawled sideways—Su Mei hugged her like living body pillow—amazon visibly uncomfortable but given up fight. Nessa slept corner—eyes half-closed pretending rest—kept breathing rhythmic.

  Jay breathed deep—elbows on knees. Fire crackled.

  Then heard footsteps.

  Light. Almost silent—but not enough escape him.

  “Thought you slept eyes open now,” soft voice—gentle irony.

  Didn’t need turn.

  “Thought you left earlier, Amy.”

  She approached fire.

  Robe covered shoulders most body—but fabric light—clear blue small arcane silver embroidery edges—symbols twinkling firelight. Some points fabric clung body—revealing waist and hip contours. Lower part partly open—exposing freckles scattered whole petite frame.

  Hood thrown back—revealing long red hair loose messy—like just finger-combed.

  Crimson eyes gleamed when sat beside him—legs crossed—foot swinging lightly.

  “Was gonna… changed mind,” said—looking flames. “Felt… incomplete. Or maybe nostalgic. Who knows.”

  Jay brief glance—but didn’t reply.

  Amy silent moment—then lay sideways—chin on hand—watching his face.

  “You still handsome, y’know? Didn’t age a day. Unfair.”

  “Blame good diet,” he said—eyes never leaving fire.

  She laughed—but short, almost sad.

  “And still hide behind jokes. That hasn’t changed either.”

  Breeze blew—lifting her hair strand. Amy tucked behind ear—leaving neck bare. Freckles continued there—like constellations scattered white skin.

  “Jay…”

  He looked—finally. Eye exchange brief—but dense. Second dragged too long.

  “You still dream about me?”

  Silence. Only wood crackle.

  “I…” he hesitated. “Sometimes.”

  “Good,” she whispered. “Because I dream about you always. The Cabin. Hearth… Butter cookies…”

  Amy moved closer—sat nearer. Robe slipped little—bare shoulder exposed.

  Looked at him—crimson eyes softer than Jay remembered—something between desire and pain hidden there. Fingers touched his arm—sliding blue band he wore.

  “I didn’t come ask forgiveness,” said. “Nor ask you come back to me. But… if you want… just tonight… We could remember.”

  Words hung air like smoke. She didn’t smile. Didn’t flirt.

  Was sincere. Vulnerable.

  War mage—genius read grimoires eyes closed—stood there—heart exposed—asking nothing more than moment humanity.

  Jay breathed deep. Very deep.

  Felt heart squeeze, throat burn. Words fought between mouth and reason.

  So close now. Firelight danced her eyes.

  One move—and faces meet. One gesture—and past become present again.

  But he didn’t move.

  Instead—held her hand—firm, warm.

  And voice came lower than intended:

  “If I touch you now… I won’t be able let go again.”

  Amy didn’t cry.

  But eyes gleamed instant. She smiled—kind given when lose battle already knew end.

  “Then…” said—leaning—head on his shoulder “just stay here with me, okay?”

  Jay closed eyes.

  Forest kept sleeping.

  …

  Which moment hit you the hardest?