Thareon, 8th of Floraris, Year 580 of the Elythera Calendar

  Almost two years had passed since that shared birthday afternoon of Sora and Nanami. Two years that vanished in the blink of an eye, filled with the warmth that united both families and the long training sessions they spent together.

  In the forest clearing by the river, the sun of the Solvesta season filtered through the leaves, scattering golden flecks over the quietly flowing water. The warm, playful breeze, hinting at the approach of Aurelia carried the perfume of wildflowers beginning to bloom among the undergrowth. The cold of Mirelyth was now nothing but a distant memory, and the days were growing longer, filling the forest with vibrant life.

  Suddenly, the serenity of the landscape broke. Powerful gusts of wind rushed through the trees, sending leaves and petals swirling as youthful laughter and teasing echoed between the trunks. A firm yet serene female voice rose above the forest’s murmurs, guiding the rhythm of that improvised battle.

  There they were: two apprentices and their teacher, immersed in a routine that had become almost a ritual.

  Months ago, Seralya had decided to shift their training toward a more practical approach, introducing controlled duels between Sora and Nanami to refine their agility and reaction speed.

  They didn’t use high-level magic or anything dangerous. Seralya had set a protective barrier around the clearing, and the children practiced with wind and water spells, mild in effect, designed to sharpen control and reflexes without risking injuries.

  Despite the friendly nature of the exercise, the competitiveness between the two charged the air. Sora and Nanami traded spells and smiles with the energy of two kids challenging each other for fun, and through laughter and swirling gusts, the clearing became a playground where magic intertwined with joy.

  Seralya watched with her arms crossed and couldn’t help but smile. It had been a long time since she taught while holding onto suspicion; now, she saw in her two students not just potential, but balance.

  Sora stood facing Nanami, both of them breathing hard, sweat sliding down their foreheads. They looked at each other with a blend of exhaustion and excitement, poised for the next move.

  Without wasting a second, Nanami recited a short spell so brief she barely spoke its name. In an instant, a wave rose behind her, born from the river at her back, and surged forward with force toward Sora.

  He reacted immediately.

  He jumped back several times, widening the distance, and raised a hand decisively.

  From his fingertips, a violet magic circle bloomed, and with a single spoken word, a powerful gust of wind shot forward.

  The two spells collided at the center of the clearing, water and air pushing against each other in an invisible struggle. The roar of the impact echoed throughout the forest. For a few seconds, they remained evenly matched, until a burst of pressure and vapor swallowed the clearing.

  A cloud of mist rose, and as it dispersed, frost drifted down like snowflakes despite it being mid-Floraris. Both of them fell backward onto the damp grass, laughing between gasps.

  Nanami was the first to sit up. She approached Sora and offered him her hand with a mischievous grin.

  “I think Glacien ended a few months ago, Sora. It’s not time to snow yet.”

  He took her hand, letting out a tired laugh.

  “There’s never a bad time to see snow, right?”

  Both burst out laughing while Seralya, standing a few meters behind, shook her head with a resigned smile.

  She had long grown used to these ties; they had become almost a constant between her two disciples. The differences between them had faded over the years, and now their abilities seemed to mirror each other.

  Seralya finally stepped forward, carrying that familiar blend of sternness and pride they both knew so well.

  “Nanami, your approach was good,” she began, crossing her arms. “I was surprised by how much water you managed to gather, both from the river and the air. But more than size, you should’ve focused on consistency. Still, it was a competent attack.”

  Then she turned her gaze toward Sora.

  “And you… if instead of trying to counter Nanami’s spell you had used a burst of wind at your feet to jump to the side, you would’ve had the perfect chance for a surprise counterattack.”

  Sora nodded, listening intently.

  “Even so, choosing to match a spell you felt you couldn’t dodge was well done. Sometimes in battle, when we’re trapped in a new situation, improvisation is what saves us. But remember,” she added with a faint smile, “open your mind and always look from other angles.”

  “Understood, Master!” both answered in unison, still smiling.

  Seralya watched them for a few more seconds before letting out a small laugh.

  “That’s all for today, children. Good work. You never cease to surprise me with how much you’ve improved, although…” She didn’t finish the sentence; her gaze slowly drifted toward the clearing.

  Sora and Nanami followed the direction of her eyes.

  The place was a small disaster: frost, puddles, and piles of fake snow scattered all over their training field.

  Seralya raised an eyebrow.

  “You’re not thinking of leaving it like this, are you?”

  The two exchanged a nervous smile.

  “We’ll take care of it!” they answered in unison.

  They immediately began channeling fire magic with great care, melting the remnants of snow without burning the grass.

  From a distance, Seralya watched them with her arms crossed and a satisfied smile on her lips.

  That clearing, once silent, had become her little refuge, a place where laughter and magic blended until they were indistinguishable.

  Once they finished cleaning the mess, the clearing was left only slightly damp. There wasn’t much else they could do, but at least it was less suspicious than leaving the place covered in snow.

  “We can head back home now,” Seralya finally said.

  Both nodded, and the three of them walked back together.

  When they reached the gate of the property, the teacher stopped.

  “I’ll need to go to the village for a moment,” she explained. “There’s something I must attend to.”

  Sora and Nanami nodded, though they couldn’t help but look at her with curiosity. Seralya didn’t usually visit the village; she preferred staying at home, either in her room or working on the documents Sora’s parents commissioned her to write. Those scribe tasks were, for her, almost a form of rest.

  Once home, Sora and Nanami decided to visit Aeris, who was in the garden taking care of Kanade. When she saw them, the young woman greeted them with her usual warmth and invited them inside, preparing tea and a few snacks for them to enjoy.

  As they ate, Nanami quickly noticed something about Sora’s face. There was something different about him—slight fatigue, a faint dullness in his eyes.

  “Sora?” she asked with concern. “Are you feeling alright?”

  He took a second to answer, trying to act normal.

  “Y-yeah… I’m just a bit tired. Today’s practice was pretty intense.” He forced a smile. “You’ve gotten a lot better, Nanami. If I’m not careful, you’ll end up leaving me behind.”

  She laughed, shaking her head.

  “As if that were possible, Sora. You never fall behind… just like when we learned to read, remember?”

  “Yeah… you’re right,” he replied, giving her a small smile.

  For a moment, the warmth in the room returned. Nanami turned her gaze toward Aeris, who was serving more tea, and in that instant Sora took the opportunity to discreetly open his Soul Panel.

  There it was.

  The same red triangle with the exclamation mark, glowing beside his mana bar.

  The symbol that had begun appearing a year ago and that, lately, came with growing discomfort: dizziness, heat, an odd pressure in his chest.

  Sora clenched his teeth.

  The warning wouldn’t go away… and the symptoms were getting worse week after week.

  He had avoided mentioning it to his teacher out of fear, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to hide it much longer.

  As Sora stared at the Soul Panel, the back door of the kitchen, the one that led to the garden opened with a faint, almost inaudible creak.

  A tiny, sweet voice broke the silence:

  “Bwother Shora!”

  Something small and warm clung to his leg. Sora smiled instantly; he didn’t even need to look to know who it was.

  “Well, if it isn’t Kanade!” he said, lifting her into his arms and setting her on his lap. “The cutest little sister in this whole house! …Well, the smallest one, because Aeris has her own special place reserved.”

  The little girl let out a giggle and cheerfully exclaimed:

  “Sista Eris!”

  Aeris, who had been pouring more tea, almost jumped and turned red all the way to her ears.

  “W-what are you saying, Sora…?” she whispered, half laughing. “And now another one calling me that…”

  Sora couldn’t help but laugh as well.

  “It’s not sista Eris, Kanade,” he corrected in a playful voice. “It’s sister Aeris.”

  Kanade let out another mischievous giggle and, paying absolutely no attention to the correction, began to play with the small horn that peeked out from her brother’s hair.

  Sora had gotten used to scenes like this. In his previous life, he had never had younger siblings, so this kind of family warmth felt new to him, new and deeply comforting.

  Nanami, who had been watching the scene with a smile, stood up from her chair and approached.

  “Well, if it isn’t little Kanade!” she said in a sweet voice.

  The girl lifted her arms toward her without hesitation, and Nanami took her into her arms. Immediately, Kanade started playing with her hair, laughing as she called her “sissa Nanami.”

  The sparkle in Nanami’s eyes said everything; she held genuine affection for the little one as well.

  A moment later, Tsukari entered the kitchen.

  “Well… so this is where Kanade was,” she sighed with a smile. “I left her looking at the flowers in the garden and the moment I got distracted, she vanished.”

  Sora laughed.

  “You know how she is, Mother. Kanade is a master at slipping away. You can’t take your eyes off her.”

  Tsukari looked at him with tenderness.

  “At least I know her brother will always be there to find her.”

  Tsukari and Kanade stayed in the kitchen a little longer. Aeris served a cup of tea for Tsukari and a fruit juice for the little girl, who immediately set her eyes on the cookies Sora and Nanami were eating.

  Smiling, Sora took a couple and placed them in front of his little sister.

  “Here, but just a couple, alright?”

  Tsukari raised an eyebrow with the knowing smile of a seasoned mother.

  “Don’t let her overdo it, Sora. She won’t want dinner later.”

  “It’s just a few, Mother,” he replied in a conspiratorial tone, glancing at Kanade. “Right? You’ll eat your dinner, little one?”

  Kanade stared at him very seriously for a moment, then nodded with enthusiasm, her cheeks covered in crumbs.

  Everyone laughed.

  The afternoon went on like that, filled with laughter, tea, and Kanade’s antics.

  When the sun began to set behind the rooftops, Nanami stood from the table.

  “I think I should head home, or my mother will start worrying,” she said with a smile.

  Sora immediately got to his feet.

  “Do you want me to walk you home?”

  Nanami nodded happily, and Sora, as always, asked his mother for permission. Tsukari answered only with that playful look she reserved for her son’s small gestures of chivalry.

  The walk back was peaceful. They talked about their training, the new spells they were practicing, and Sora’s wild ideas for his inventions. Nanami listened with a mix of admiration and genuine curiosity; she loved hearing him speak with such passion.

  Eventually, they reached the Edevane home. Nanami’s parents greeted them kindly; they had long since grown used to seeing the two of them arrive together, and Liora no longer needed to come fetch her daughter every afternoon. If Sora walked her home, she knew Nanami was safe.

  After saying goodbye, Sora began the return trip.

  The evening light bathed the town’s stone walls in gold. When he reached the main gate, he stopped upon seeing a familiar figure speaking with the guards.

  It was Seralya.

  The teacher was speaking quietly with one of them, holding a small scroll of parchment in her hands. When she noticed Sora, she turned and greeted him with a calm smile.

  “Well, perfect timing,” she said, bidding the guard farewell with a slight bow.

  Sora approached.

  “Would you like us to head back home together, Master?”

  “Of course, Sora. I was just finishing my errands,” she replied, tucking the scroll under her arm.

  And so, teacher and student walked back toward the residence side by side, moving through the lantern lights that were beginning to flicker alive across the town.

  As they followed the forest path home, the fading sunlight painted everything in red and gold. The shadows stretched long between the trees, and the warm air began to fill with the soft chirping of nocturnal insects.

  “So then, Master Seralya…” Sora asked, breaking the silence. “How did it go? It’s not common to see you in the village.”

  Seralya walked with her hands linked behind her back, her silhouette outlined by the dying light.

  “In truth,” she answered calmly, “I went because the captain of the guard asked for my insight regarding an issue in the forest.”

  “Captain Kael? Nanami’s father?” Sora asked, intrigued.

  “Indeed,” she nodded. “A few days ago, a woodcutter vanished. Not just anywhere—he disappeared in the southeastern part of the forest, in a deeper area. And lately, there have been rumors of an unidentified creature roaming around there.”

  Sora watched her with a slight frown. There was something in the way his teacher emphasized that part of the forest that stirred his curiosity.

  “What’s so special about that area, Master Seralya?” he finally asked.

  She paused mid-step, turning toward him with a hint of surprise.

  “You don’t know what lies in the southeastern part of the Rulid forest, Sora?”

  He shook his head.

  “More than two centuries ago,” she began in a grave tone, “a burning rock fell from the sky and crashed into that region. Since then, the area has remained marked… cursed, according to some.”

  Her voice lowered, becoming almost a whisper among the trees.

  “Anyone who ventures too close dies shortly after, in agony. Their skin blackens, cracks, and begins to peel away, as if the body were rotting from within. No one knows if it’s a curse cast by some necromancer or divine punishment. But whatever it is, not even the Conclave has managed to study it properly.”

  The wind rustled the leaves, filling the silence that followed her words.

  “That’s why that part of the forest was declared forbidden. They won’t arrest you for entering, of course, but…” she glanced sideways at Sora, “those who know the story understand that it’s basically seeking a painful death.”

  Sora remained quiet, his gaze drifting to the trees swaying under the crimson light of dusk.

  Those symptoms his teacher described… something about them felt disturbingly familiar.

  He couldn’t recall from where, but a faint sense of recognition crawled up his spine.

  After a moment of silence, Sora spoke again.

  “So… do they think the woodcutter went into that part of the forest? Or that the supposed creature lured him in, even knowing what happens in that zone?”

  Seralya lowered her gaze slightly, thinking before she answered.

  “That’s what we’re investigating. He hasn’t been seen in days.” She sighed. “According to his partner’s testimony, he saw him heading southeast before running away. And since then… nothing.”

  Her words turned heavier.

  “If he truly entered the cursed forest, he is already dead, Sora. And as painful as it is, entering that place to recover his body isn’t worth the risk. No one has ever returned alive from that area.”

  Sora said nothing. The sound of wind brushing through the branches seemed to echo his thoughts as they followed the path back home.

  He analyzed every word, every detail, feeling something inside him resonate with unsettling strength.

  When they finally reached the gate of the Eryndel estate, the boy stopped and looked at his teacher with determination.

  “Master…” he said in a serious tone. “May I help you with the investigation?”

  Seralya watched him closely, saying nothing for a few seconds.

  “There’s something about that area that bothers me,” he continued. “Something I feel I’ve heard before… in my past life. I’m not asking to go into the forest or do anything reckless, but maybe I can help you understand what’s happening there.”

  Seralya narrowed her eyes slightly. Her first impulse was to refuse; Sora was still a child, at least physically. But she knew his mind, his resolve… and more importantly, she knew he never spoke without reason.

  Besides, if whatever he remembered could offer a clue, it was worth listening.

  At last, she nodded.

  “Very well, Sora. But no foolishness and no unnecessary risks, understood?”

  Sora gave a faint smile and bowed his head with respect.

  “Understood, Master. I’ll follow your lead.”

  They crossed the gate in silence. The house welcomed them with the calm of night and the distant murmur of the river.

  Soon after, they parted ways in the hallway and headed to their respective rooms.

  Sora went through his nightly routine, changing clothes and glancing one last time at his notebook before lying down.

  As sleep began to wrap around him, the echo of his teacher’s words kept turning in his mind.

  A burning rock… blackened skin… bodies rotting from the inside…

  Something about it all felt too familiar, as if a forgotten piece of himself was trying to remind him of something important.

  During the night, Sora lay in bed with his eyes open. He shifted under the sheets, unable to sleep.

  With a soft sigh, he turned his head toward the window; the moon shone faintly through the curtains, bathing the room in a pale glow.

  “There it is again…” he whispered as he opened the Soul Panel.

  The warning was still there, blinking in a reddish tone beside his mana bar.

  It’s not going to disappear on its own, he thought as he closed the interface. He sat up, ran a hand through his hair, and murmured with resignation:

  “Well… if I can’t sleep, I might as well make use of the time.”

  He lit his small manaquartz lamp, its bluish glow filling the room with a calm, serene light.

  On his desk lay his notebook and the leather case Nanami had given him, filled with writing tools, quills, and pencils.

  He opened the notebook and flipped through it slowly. The pages were crowded with sketches, diagrams, and notes written in small, neat handwriting.

  Among the most recent ones were blueprints of different kinds of wagons, designs he had been refining for weeks.

  Farther back was a detailed record of his latest achievement: the creation of soap.

  That experiment had been an unexpectedly successful one.

  Using the caustic potash obtained from the leftovers of the paper-making process, Sora had managed to produce soap of surprisingly high quality. It became another invention his father immediately integrated into the now-thriving Eryndel workshop.

  Sora smiled at the memory.

  The business was growing… but for him, the true joy wasn’t in the profits, but in the act of creation itself.

  He turned the pages until he reached his most recent sketches: the structure of a bicycle.

  The design fascinated him and frustrated him in equal measure, drawings were detailed, but the gear systems and brakes were driving him crazy.

  He tried to recreate the shifting mechanism from his previous world, but without the right materials, everything became a massive challenge.

  “Damn it… if only I could remember clearly how the internal system worked…” he muttered, holding the pencil between his teeth.

  Even so, nothing excited him as much as the section that came next: his research on manaquartz stones.

  Ever since discovering that they reacted to the contact with metals, he hadn’t stopped theorizing about their potential as a source of energy, a sort of “magical battery.”

  His notes were filled with formulas, measurements, and symbols he barely understood himself.

  He experimented with different materials, with mana flow, and with small magnetic fields created in a rudimentary way.

  Sometimes he grew frustrated at not having the technical knowledge he would have needed.

  In his previous life, he had walked past physics and electricity books without giving them a second glance.

  And now, in this world, he was paying the price.

  But even so, something inside him felt alive.

  The challenge fueled him. The idea of being the first to discover how to combine magic with energy filled him with excitement.

  As the ticking of the magical clock in his room marked the passing of time, Sora kept writing without rest.

  Night slid slowly over Rulid, and the only light still shining was that small blue lamp, where a young inventor dreamed of the future among pages and sparks of mana.

  After several hours immersed in his sketches and ideas, Sora finally began to feel the weight of sleep. He carefully put away his tools, closed the notebook, and extinguished the manaquartz lamp, which faded with a soft bluish glow.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  When he lay down, exhaustion wrapped around him almost instantly, and this time he managed to fall asleep without difficulty.

  The next morning, the first rays of sunlight filtered through the window.

  Sora opened his eyes before the hourglass marked his usual waking time.

  He sat up, surprised to realize that, despite sleeping far less than usual, he didn’t feel a trace of fatigue.

  On the contrary, his body felt lighter, and his mind completely clear.

  For a moment, he frowned.

  What the hell is happening? he thought, rubbing his neck.

  First I can’t fall asleep… and now I sleep little and wake up more energized than ever. Is it connected to that notification that keeps appearing on the Soul Panel?

  The thought drifted away when he heard footsteps in the hallway, coming from Seralya’s room.

  He shook his head to clear it, got dressed quickly, and stepped out of his room.

  In the dining room, his parents were waiting, having breakfast as they always did, along with Seralya and Aeris.

  The smell of freshly baked bread and sweet fruits filled the air, mixing with the soft murmur of conversation.

  “Good morning,” Sora greeted in his usual tone as he took a seat.

  “Good morning, Sora,” Tsukari replied with a smile.

  Aeris, seeing him arrive, immediately stood to serve his breakfast. She placed a plate of bread, fruit, and hot tea in front of him.

  Sora looked at her with gratitude.

  “Thank you, Aeris.”

  She answered with a gentle smile.

  “You’re welcome, young master.”

  A moment later, Alvaron and Tsukari rose from the table to get ready.

  As every morning, they had to go to the village; Tsukari picked up Kanade in her arms, who was still too small to stay under the care of the maids or even Aeris.

  “We’ll see you at midday, Sora,” his mother said before leaving, the little girl half-asleep on her shoulder.

  Sora nodded.

  The door closed behind them, leaving the house in silence.

  Only Sora and Master Seralya remained at the table, accompanied by the soft sound of tea being poured.

  Across from him, Seralya read through a parchment spread out before her. From time to time, without fully lifting her gaze, she glanced at Sora from the corner of her eye.

  He seemed distracted, holding his cup of tea with one hand while spinning a small manaquartz crystal between his fingers, the one he had been carrying with him for months now.

  That was when she noticed it.

  The air around him vibrated with a subtle magical density. It wasn’t just an impression—Sora was emitting more energy than usual, even without channeling anything.

  For a moment she considered saying something, but held back. Perhaps it was simply a natural manifestation of Astaria’s blessing. In any case, he showed no visible signs of discomfort.

  Sora slipped the crystal back into his pocket and looked up at her, breaking the silence with a curious smile.

  “So then, master… do you have anything in mind regarding yesterday’s investigation? Are you planning to work on it today?”

  Seralya set the parchment down and sighed.

  “Indeed. I was reviewing the report the Rulid guard sent me this morning, but it doesn’t say anything we didn’t already know. It simply confirms the disappearance and the testimony of the woodcutter’s companion.”

  Sora propped an elbow on the table, leaning forward.

  “Then if there’s not enough information, that means we need to do some fieldwork and investigate, doesn’t it, master?”

  The woman raised an eyebrow, giving him a suspicious look.

  “That’s logical, but if we’re going to investigate, I am the one leading, Sora. I don’t want to end up running after you into that forest.”

  Sora puffed his cheeks out, pretending to be offended.

  “It’s not like I would do something that reckless, master. Even I have my limits.”

  Seralya let out a small laugh and shook her head.

  “Indeed. I suppose even you wouldn’t do something that foolish, Sora.”

  He smiled back at her, though inside his mind was already circling around an idea.

  That place… the southeast of the forest… something there is calling to me.

  After finishing breakfast, Seralya rolled up the parchment and left it on the table.

  “Shall we head out, then?” she asked, with a spark of enthusiasm Sora wasn’t used to seeing in her.

  The boy smiled; it was rare to see his master so lively.

  “Of course!” he replied immediately, rising from his chair.

  He hurried up to his room to get ready. He changed his indoor clothes for something more suitable for the forest, tightened the belt that held his small pouches of magical components, and grabbed a fresh notebook along with his writing case, the very one Nanami had gifted him.

  Both items vanished into his Soul Panel inventory with a soft blue flash.

  “Done,” he murmured to himself, checking that he hadn’t forgotten anything.

  When he stepped out of his room, he found Seralya waiting in the living room, already dressed in her travel cloak with her staff strapped to her back.

  “All set?” she asked.

  “All set,” Sora nodded with confidence.

  They went over their belongings one last time and, after making sure the house was in order, they set off together toward the forest.

  The morning air was cool, and the paths still damp with dew. The chatter of villagers and the sound of horses’ hooves filled the ambiance with the familiar rhythm of Rulid’s daily life.

  As they walked, they talked and theorized about what might be happening in the southeastern part of the woods.

  Seralya spoke with an analytical tone, listing possible magical causes behind the “curse,” while Sora listened closely, mentally noting every detail.

  “I have a hunch, master,” Sora finally said, gazing toward the thick forest in the distance. “There’s something in that place that bothers me, something… familiar, though I can’t explain why.”

  Seralya turned her head slightly toward him, intrigued.

  “Familiar?” she echoed.

  Sora nodded, though he avoided elaborating.

  “I don’t know yet. I’d rather see it with my own eyes before saying something I can’t support.”

  His words only deepened Seralya’s curiosity. How could he recall anything about such an ancient phenomenon, something that happened in a world so different from his own?

  As they continued walking, the mystery of the southeastern woods grew more and more compelling like an echo calling to them from deep within the trees.

  After a long walk, Sora and Seralya reached the area where, according to the reports, the lumberjacks had supposedly seen the creature.

  The air there felt heavier, saturated with the scent of damp bark and dried sap.

  The first thing they found were the remains of a worksite: freshly cut logs, some still not stacked, and woodworking benches left in disarray with tools scattered among fallen leaves.

  It didn’t look like a place abandoned by accident; it was clear this had once been a regular work spot for the lumberjacks.

  However, everything suggested that no one had returned in several days.

  The wood shavings were moist, and the undergrowth was beginning to reclaim the traces of human activity.

  Seralya stepped forward with caution, holding her staff with one hand while tracing a subtle gesture through the air with the other.

  “I don’t sense any magical anomalies,” she said after a few seconds. “The mana flow in this area is stable.”

  Sora nodded, scanning his surroundings.

  “Then… whatever happened, it didn’t happen here.” His gaze drifted to the edges of the clearing. “Maybe further ahead.”

  A detail caught his attention.

  In the distance, the tall grass was pressed down, as if someone had run through it in a hurry.

  Sora approached carefully, parting the blades with his hand until he spotted fresh footprints sunk into the mud.

  “Master, come look at this,” he said in a low voice, pointing at the ground.

  Seralya walked over and examined the tracks.

  They were deep, uneven… as if someone had been running, possibly stumbling more than once.

  Together they began following the trail with caution, moving through the underbrush.

  The forest’s silence was unsettling; the only sound was the faint crackle of grass beneath their boots.

  Soon, the trail led them to a smaller clearing, where they found a discarded axe lying in the middle of the path. The blade was covered in dried mud, and beside it was a torn satchel.

  Sora knelt to examine it.

  “It must belong to the missing lumberjack,” he murmured.

  Seralya crouched as well, resting a hand on the weapon.

  “There’s no blood… no signs of a struggle. But it does look like he dropped everything while fleeing.”

  Further ahead, the footprints continued, leading straight into the depths of the southeastern woods.

  Sora lifted his gaze in that direction.

  The forest looked different there: the trees grew closer together, and a faint mist drifted between them, blurring the sunlight.

  The southeast of the Rulid forest… he thought.

  His heartbeat quickened.

  Beyond the spectral haze spreading toward the southeast, the trees began to change color.

  Their trunks and leaves were tinted in a dark red, as if the forest had changed overnight. Yet they weren’t withered.

  It was a vivid red, almost metallic… and that made it even more unsettling.

  As he stepped a little closer, Sora noticed something that caught his attention.

  Embedded in the trunks of the first trees, those marking the border of that region, were manaquartz crystals, lodged high in the bark.

  They were arranged in a specific, almost ritualistic pattern, and at first glance it looked as if the trees themselves had swallowed them over time.

  But there was something else: the crystals were dull and worn out, as if drained of their energy.

  Seralya, walking a few steps behind him, raised her voice calm but firm:

  “Sora, don’t take a single step past those trees.”

  Her tone allowed no argument.

  “Those manaquartz crystals are not there by accident. They were placed to mark the beginning of the cursed forest. A single step beyond that boundary… and you might not return.”

  Sora stopped, but didn’t back away.

  He turned his head toward his master and gave her a calm, almost confident smile.

  “I’m not going in, Master,” he said softly. “But I need to get a little closer to test something.”

  Seralya narrowed her eyes, unsure, but eventually nodded.

  “Very well. But only a few steps.”

  Sora advanced slowly, until the mist brushed against his ankles.

  For a moment, Seralya noticed the air around him vibrate with a faint hum.

  And then she saw something strange: a barely noticeable smile formed on the boy’s face.

  What are you seeing, Sora…? she wondered, not understanding it at all.

  In truth, Sora wasn’t looking at the forest.

  He was looking at the Soul Panel interface, open before his eyes.

  There it was the key that confirmed his suspicions.

  The red triangle had appeared again, flashing steadily… but now it was accompanied by a different symbol, something he had never seen before.

  His theories were starting to take shape, though it was still too early to speak of them.

  He closed the interface, returned to his master, and pulled his notebook from the inventory.

  Seralya watched him as he wrote quickly, eyes focused and intent, as if afraid to lose even a single detail.

  When he finished, he stored the notebook and the case.

  “And? Well, Sora?” Seralya asked with curiosity. “Did you discover anything?”

  Sora lifted his gaze.

  “For now, it’s just hypotheses,” he answered calmly.

  “But regarding the missing woodcutter… with the clues we found, we can almost confirm that he headed into the southeastern forest.”

  Seralya nodded slowly.

  “And most likely never came back,” she murmured.

  “Even so,” Sora continued, “we should take the axe and the torn satchel. If we show them to the surviving woodcutter, he can confirm whether they belonged to his partner.”

  The mage nodded immediately.

  Everything Sora said made sense, though she couldn’t shake the deep curiosity stirring within her.

  That “hypothesis” he mentioned… and the way he had smiled when approaching the forest.

  It wasn’t the first time Sora knew more than he let on.

  Seralya and Sora gave the clearing one last look before leaving.

  There were no signs of a creature, no recent tracks—only the wind whispering through the reddish leaves.

  It was clear that if something had happened here, it had happened days ago.

  “There’s no point in staying any longer,” Seralya finally said.

  “Yeah… it’ll be better to talk to the witness,” Sora replied, still frowning.

  During the walk back, silence settled over the path.

  Seralya noticed how Sora opened the Soul Panel again and again, his eyes tracking something she couldn’t see.

  She recognized that gesture perfectly, the subtle shift in his gaze, the change in his breathing but decided not to question him.

  She knew that when the boy needed to speak, he would… and until then, his mind would be busy fitting every piece of the puzzle together.

  When they reached Rulid, the mage approached the guards at the eastern gate.

  “We’re looking for the home of the woodcutter who survived the incident in the forest,” she explained.

  One of the guards pointed toward a small house at the end of the road, almost touching the edge of the settlement.

  “He lives there. Hasn’t gone out much since it happened,” the man said in a serious tone.

  Seralya thanked him with a slight bow, and the two headed toward the house.

  It was a simple wooden structure, the roof slanted, the air heavy with the smell of chimney smoke.

  No decorations, no flowers, no sign of company.

  He lives alone, Sora thought as they climbed the porch steps.

  Seralya knocked gently on the door.

  For a few seconds, only the wind answered.

  Then, from inside, a rough and trembling voice asked:

  “Who is it?”

  “I’m the village scribe,” Seralya replied in a formal tone. “I work for the Eryndel family. Do you have a moment to speak with us?”

  There was a short pause, followed by the sound of a lock shifting.

  The door opened just enough to reveal a middle-aged man, unkempt and with deep circles under his eyes.

  His gaze red and worn from sleeplessness studied them with a mixture of distrust and relief.

  “A servant of the Eryndels…?” he murmured hoarsely. “Come in… forgive the mess. I haven’t had the strength to put anything in order.”

  The interior of the house was dimly lit.

  On the table lay untouched food and a pair of poorly cleaned tools.

  The air smelled of damp wood and stale smoke.

  Sora and Seralya stepped in respectfully, sitting where the man indicated.

  “Thank you for receiving us,” Seralya said. “We were in the forest this morning, at the site of the incident. We wanted to speak with you… but if you’re not well, we can return later.”

  The man shook his head slowly, trying to appear steady.

  “I’m fine,” he replied, though his voice quivered slightly. “If you went all the way there, you deserve to know what happened.”

  He settled into his chair, rubbing his hands together as if he still felt cold.

  “Go ahead,” he added with a weary sigh. “Ask whatever you need.”

  Sora placed the axe and the torn satchel on the table.

  “Do you recognize these tools?” he asked calmly. “Do they belong to you or to your missing partner?”

  The man reached out carefully.

  His fingers trembled slightly as they touched the axe’s handle; then, when he saw the shredded satchel, his expression tightened.

  “Yes… they’re his,” the man answered in a low voice. “Corvan’s. He had them the day we…” He swallowed hard. “…the day we ran in opposite directions.”

  He lifted his gaze, his face pale.

  “Where did you find them?”

  Sora replied with calm clarity:

  “In a clearing, right at the border with the cursed forest.”

  The man pressed his lips together, holding back a curse.

  “So he…” he muttered, his voice trembling with anger and fear, “so he did head that way. Damn it…”

  Sora and Seralya exchanged a silent look.

  She was the one who broke the quiet, speaking gently:

  “Could you tell us what happened that day? Anything you remember, even if it seems unimportant.”

  The man nodded slowly. He shifted in his chair, as if bracing himself to relive something he wished he could forget.

  “It was a day like any other…” he began, staring at the floor. “We were working in the clearing we opened months ago. The wood in that area is strong, almost knotless. Good for selling.”

  “For weeks, it was peaceful work. But little by little… the atmosphere changed.”

  “Heavy. Like the air was harder to breathe.”

  He rubbed his face with his hands.

  “At first, we didn’t pay attention. But then, one by one, the other four men who worked with us stopped coming. They said something in the forest was watching them. That at night they heard footsteps among the trees, even when the wind was still.”

  “I thought it was superstition, but Corvan… he started to change.” The man lowered his voice. “He became paranoid.”

  Sora listened attentively, without interrupting.

  Seralya, however, kept her gaze fixed on the man, as if each word weighed more than the last.

  “He said he saw shadows moving between the trunks,” the man continued. “Eyes shining in the dark.”

  “I never saw anything, I swear. But his fear started getting to me… until the day of the incident.”

  He paused.

  His breathing grew uneven. His hands trembled on the table.

  Seralya spoke softly, almost like a mother comforting a frightened child:

  “Calm down. Take a deep breath. What did you see that day?”

  The man closed his eyes for a moment before answering.

  “We saw… it,” he whispered.

  Silence filled the room.

  The crackle of the hearth fire was the only sound breaking the heavy air.

  “A figure…” the man continued, his voice trembling, “tall, hunched… like a man covered in soot. It walked between the trees, but… it didn’t leave footprints.”

  “Corvan saw it first. I barely managed to turn around when I heard him scream.”

  “And then…” he paused, a shiver running through his arms, “the air turned toxic, like we suddenly couldn’t breathe. My eyes burned, my skin burned… and I ran. I ran without looking back.”

  His words dissolved into a long, shaky sigh.

  Seralya leaned forward, placing a gentle hand on the table.

  “Thank you for telling us. I understand how difficult it must be to relive it.”

  The man nodded, trying to steady himself.

  “I don’t know what that thing was… but ever since that day, I swear I can still feel it watching me.”

  Seralya exchanged a silent look with Sora. Neither spoke.

  Even without saying it aloud, both understood that what the man had seen was far from a simple superstition.

  Whatever it was… it was still out there, somewhere within that red forest.

  Seeing the man’s exhausted, haunted expression, something tightened in Sora’s chest.

  He couldn’t just leave him like that, carrying that weight of fear and guilt alone.

  “Please,” Sora said, his voice firm yet gentle, “if you ever need help, don’t hesitate to seek us out. What you went through was terrible. You don’t have to endure it alone.”

  “As the son of the Eryndel family, I’m willing to give you whatever support you need to get through this.”

  The man blinked, clearly taken aback.

  “Y-you’re the son of the lords of these lands?” he asked, stunned.

  Sora nodded with a faint smile.

  “I am. And you don’t need to carry all of this by yourself.”

  The man exhaled deeply, the tension in his face easing just a little.

  “It’s an honor to receive such an offer, young Sora… but I’ll be fine. I’ll try, truly.”

  Sora studied him for a moment, then nodded, respecting his resolve.

  He stood up along with Seralya, and the two thanked him with courtesy before stepping out of the house.

  The evening air greeted them with a heavy silence.

  The sky was stained in shades of orange and violet, and the wind carried the scent of burning firewood from the village chimneys.

  For most of the walk neither of them spoke; only the crunch of gravel under their boots filled the space between them.

  Eventually, Sora broke the silence.

  “Master…” he said thoughtfully, “I think I have an idea of what might be happening in the forest, but I still need more information.

  Could we spend the next few days gathering records, rumors, anything related to that area? Maybe my parents know something as well.”

  Seralya, who had been walking with her gaze fixed on the ground, lifted an eyebrow.

  “Agreed. But don’t you dare leave all the work to me,” she replied, her tone hovering between stern and amused.

  “You insisted on getting involved in this, so you will investigate too.”

  Sora smiled, scratching the back of his neck.

  “All right, Master. I’ll do my part.”

  “That’s better, young apprentice,” she said with a tired but sincere smile.

  And so, under the fading colors of sunset, the two continued their way home, their minds full of questions… and the certainty that something dark was watching them from the depths of the red forest.

  After that day of investigation, the following days went by with relative normalcy.

  Sora and Nanami continued their magic training every afternoon with Seralya, and in the mornings, he and his master devoted their time to digging into the mysteries of the southeastern woods.

  They avoided speaking about it in front of Nanami, they didn’t want to involve her in something potentially dangerous so she simply saw her two teachers unusually focused, unaware of the reason.

  A little over a week passed before they felt they had gathered enough information to compare their findings.

  That afternoon, after Sora accompanied Nanami home, Seralya waited for him at the entrance with her usual calm but firm expression.

  “Sora, we need to talk,” she said, “but not here.”

  The boy nodded, knowing immediately what she meant.

  They went down to the study on the first floor, where a concealed door was hidden behind an old map shelf: the entrance to the secret room.

  That chamber, lit by manacuarzo crystals embedded in the corners, had witnessed many of their private conversations.

  It was there that Seralya had once seen the memories of Sora’s previous world; and since then, whenever they needed to speak without interruption or share theories no one else should hear, that room had become their refuge.

  Seralya lit a small table lamp and placed two chairs facing each other.

  The air smelled of old parchment and dried ink—a scent Sora now associated with long hours of study beside his master.

  “Good,” she said, spreading several parchment rolls across the table. Some carried her own notes; others were transcriptions of old records from the village archive.

  “Let’s see what we have.”

  Sora, for his part, took from his inventory the small notebook he had set aside specifically for this investigation. Its pages were filled with diagrams, calculations, and notes detailing the forest’s conditions and the villagers’ testimonies.

  They exchanged a small, knowing smile.

  It was time to put the pieces together.

  Sora was the first to speak.

  “Well, Master,” he began, flipping through the notebook, “I’ll start with what I heard while asking around the village.

  The core story is always the same: the forest was cursed by a ball of fire that fell from the sky. And for generations, anyone who entered that area without exception died a few days later.”

  He paused, reviewing his notes.

  “No matter whom I questioned, the story never changed except for tiny details. Some call it a curse, others divine punishment, from my point of view, neither explanation makes sense. But before I continue, I’d like to hear what you found. I checked the records in the mayor’s library, but found nothing useful, just a few superficial mentions in the town’s historical logs. My impression is that… either it was never properly recorded, or someone erased the information. And to be honest, I have a solid guess which ‘magnanimous and despotic’ organization might have done it.”

  Seralya gave him a wry smile, tilting her head slightly.

  She knew exactly who he meant.

  “Your accusation isn’t misplaced, Sora. The Conclave has a habit of erasing anything it cannot control.”

  Then, more seriously: “But let’s not drift. Let me tell you what i found.”

  She unrolled an old parchment, the paper yellowed and fragile.

  “Beyond rumors, there are concrete records… they were simply hidden. Your father granted me permission to access a restricted section of the library, and there I found a document dated over a century ago.

  According to this report, a group of villagers ventured into the cursed forest searching for a pair of missing children. The search failed. They split up: some stayed near the perimeter, while others went deeper.”

  Seralya frowned, recalling every line of that text.

  “Both groups returned… but not for long.”

  Those who had stayed near the forest’s edge began to fall ill after just a few days: weakness, dizziness, vomiting… and eventually they collapsed in bed, consumed by a pain no one knew how to ease.

  She paused a moment before continuing.

  “Those who went deeper… were the first to die.”

  Only a few hours after returning, their skin began to blacken and crack; it peeled off in pieces, and their bodies decayed while they were still breathing.

  They all died. Without exception.

  The silence that followed was heavy, almost tangible.

  The faint crackle of the manacuarzo lamp was the only sound filling the room.

  Sora clenched his fists on his knees.

  Every word his master spoke lined up with something he knew, something he had read in another world.

  Pieces began to click into place in his mind in a way that felt disturbingly familiar, and although he didn’t say it aloud, a single idea kept circling through his thoughts:

  Maybe… radiation?

  Seralya resumed speaking, unrolling another parchment she had brought.

  “There was something else that caught my attention,” she said, her brow furrowed. “The treatment given to the affected villagers.”

  Sora leaned forward, focused.

  “When the villagers began to show symptoms, they were treated by apothecaries, healers, and priests from the village and even a few summoned from neighboring settlements, the priests attempted soul-purification spells, but nothing changed, the apothecaries tried antidotes and brews for various poisons also without success. Life potions had a mild effect, but only for a very short time: they would restore part of the damage, only for the symptoms to surge back even stronger minutes later… or, in the best cases, hours later.”

  She paused again before going on.

  “The only ones who achieved even mildly positive results were the healers. Through healing magic they managed to stabilize the victims for short periods, but no matter how many spells they cast, the affliction continued to progress.

  The healers’ magical reserves were drained, and one by one they were forced to give up.”

  Silence filled the room.

  Only the soft rustle of parchment sliding beneath her fingers broke the stillness.

  “Another unsettling detail,” she continued, “is that some apothecaries who touched the sick also began to show symptoms, though in a mild form. They collapsed in bed for a few days, but managed to recover thanks to potions and healing magic, those who never had direct contact with the bodies suffered no consequences at all.”

  Seralya took a slow breath before adding:

  “Fearing that the curse might spread, the houses of the afflicted were destroyed and burned, along with everything inside.

  The bodies were buried in an isolated crypt, together with their belongings, and the place was sealed forever.

  Since then, no one in Rulid ever fell ill again.

  And no one… ever set foot in that forest again.”

  Sora remained silent for several seconds, reviewing his notes over and over.

  Every word his master uttered, every symptom, every detail… everything aligned too well.

  The pieces were forming a clear, disturbing picture.

  Could it really be that?

  If his reasoning was correct, the mystery of the forest had nothing to do with mana, or gods, or curses.

  It was something he knew.

  Something from his previous world.

  He took a breath and lifted his gaze toward Seralya.

  “Master Seralya…” he said in a grave voice. “Everything you’ve told me—what we saw, what we uncovered… it all points to a phenomenon that also existed in the world I come from.

  If my hypotheses are correct…” He paused, then immediately corrected himself. “No. They are correct. Everything matches.”

  Seralya watched him in silence, not interrupting.

  “What dwells in that forest is not a curse, nor corrupted spiritual energy,” Sora continued. “It’s a natural phenomenon, one born from science, in my world it was known as radiation.

  More specifically… gamma radiation.”

  The air in the room seemed to freeze.

  Seralya blinked, confused.

  She had heard that word in fragments of Sora’s memories, ideas she never fully understood.

  But now, coming from his lips, in this context, it sounded different: dangerous, alive.

  “Gamma… radiation?” she repeated, brows furrowed. “What does that even mean, Sora?

  I don’t understand… what exactly are you talking about?”

  Sora lowered his gaze for a moment, searching for the right words.

  Explaining science in a world where everything revolved around magic was far harder than he had imagined.

  Sora took a deep breath and continued, placing both hands on the table.

  “Radiation…” he began, “is a type of energy released by certain elements found in nature. Most of them are harmless, but the one I’m talking about is extremely dangerous.

  It can pass through almost any material and worse, whatever it strikes becomes contaminated, turning into a new source of that same energy.”

  Seralya watched him closely, though her eyes were filled with pure confusion.

  She didn’t understand any of it.

  Sora noticed and softened his tone, searching for simpler words.

  “Alright, let me try explaining it differently,” he said. “This radiation comes from something called radioactive matter. In this case, the source could be that rock that fell from the sky.

  If I’m right, it wasn’t a curse or a divine warning… it was a meteorite. A stone that came from space.”

  He paused to scribble something in his notebook, then looked back at her.

  “The material that meteorite is made of might contain radioactive substances. And for centuries, it has been releasing that energy.

  That would explain the victims’ symptoms… and why the trees in that forest have taken on that reddish color.”

  His master still said nothing, caught between disbelief and astonishment.

  “In my world,” Sora continued with a trace of nostalgia, “there was a forest with the same characteristics. It wasn’t a curse either it was the result of an accident caused by human negligence.

  A leak of this energy destroyed entire cities and left hundreds of thousands of people without homes.”

  His voice dropped.

  “What happened there… was a lesson humanity paid dearly for.”

  Seralya watched him with narrowed eyes, trying to picture what her apprentice was describing.

  There was something in his tone, a mix of sadness and fascination.

  “To put it simply, Master,” Sora said at last, gesturing lightly with his hand, “you can think of it this way:

  that rock emits an invisible energy, like billions of tiny arrows that pierce the bodies of anyone who approaches, destroying them from the inside.”

  He paused, then looked her directly in the eyes.

  “If you don’t believe me, we can use that artifact to revisit my memories. I can show you the documentaries I watched about it. You’ll see I’m not mistaken.”

  Seralya paled and quickly raised her hands.

  “No, no, absolutely not,” she said, shaking her head firmly. “Once was more than enough, Sora.”

  “I’m not going through something like that ever again. It’s… an experience one should only endure once in a lifetime.”

  Sora couldn’t help laughing softly, that bittersweet laugh of his that always warmed her heart.

  “I figured,” he replied with a gentle smile.

  For a moment, silence wrapped around them.

  Only the faint hum of the manaquartz lamp filled the underground room.

  Two worlds, science and magic had just collided in that secluded chamber.

  Both of them stayed quiet, letting everything sink in.

  The air felt heavy, dense with thoughts.

  Seralya was the first to speak.

  “Alright…” she said, her voice low but steady. “So we understand the cause of this supposed curse.

  It wasn’t a curse at all. Just a natural phenomenon.”

  She raised her gaze toward Sora.

  “But then… what explains the appearance of that creature?

  The one that attacked the woodcutters?”

  Sora brought a hand to his chin, thinking.

  “That part… is still just a hypothesis, Master,” he replied after a few seconds.

  “But perhaps that ‘shadow’ was the result of a mutation.

  Radiation can alter the bodies of living beings. Change their form… even their nature.”

  Seralya watched him with narrowed eyes.

  “And what if it isn’t a living creature at all?” she asked, a faint shiver in her voice.

  Sora shook his head.

  “I can’t be sure. It might be something more complex—something beyond even what I know.”

  He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

  “After all, this world isn’t the same as mine. Magic exists here.

  The interaction between radiation and magical energy could create something entirely new… something neither science nor sorcery can fully understand.”

  Seralya nodded slowly, trying to absorb the magnitude of his words.

  “That makes sense,” she admitted. “If magic reacts to every form of energy, then something this powerful could distort it.”

  She paused, her expression growing more serious.

  “But even so… there isn’t much we can actually do.

  We now know it isn’t a curse, but the danger hasn’t changed.”

  She exhaled quietly.

  “We should warn the people of the village.

  Expand the warnings and reinforce the runic markers around the forest border.”

  Sora nodded with conviction.

  “Yes. That’s the smartest choice for now.

  We can’t fight what we don’t understand… but we can keep others from walking into it.”

  Seralya returned a tired but satisfied look.

  For the first time, they both felt they had shed a bit of light on the mystery.

  Even if, deep down, they knew they had only scratched the surface of something far greater.

  Before ending the meeting, Sora lifted his gaze from his notebook.

  “Master Seralya, I have one last question.”

  She turned toward him, raising an eyebrow.

  “What is it, Sora?”

  “In the records… was there any mention of using physical purification spells on the affected?” he asked seriously.

  “I’m not talking about soul purifications, but the ones that remove toxins, paralysis… or cleanse contaminated matter. Even the spells used to purify material impurities.”

  Seralya narrowed her eyes, thinking.

  “No, nothing like that was mentioned,” she answered after a few seconds.

  “And I doubt they even tried. Back then, healing magic was primitive compared to what we have now. They barely understood how to manipulate vital energy.”

  Sora nodded silently.

  He took his pencil and scribbled something quickly on the corner of the page.

  “I see…” he murmured. “Alright, that’s all.”

  Seralya glanced at him from the corner of her eye.

  That focused look, that little motion he made while writing without saying another word…

  She knew that something had occurred to him.

  But she also knew Sora well: once he decided to keep quiet, no amount of questions would make him speak before he was ready.

  So she let it go.

  They both left the secret room together, leaving the parchments and the soft blue glow of the lamp behind them.

  The rest of the afternoon passed with its usual rhythm: the sound of the river accompanying their practice with Nanami, the laughter, the calm that filled their daily life.

  But in Sora’s mind, an idea had begun to take shape…

  A spark that would soon become the beginning of something far greater and far more dangerous.

  ...

  Rulid Forest, three days later

  The air was dense, almost motionless.

  Between the trees, the light barely filtered through, tinted by the deep green of the foliage.

  The place felt forgotten by the goddess, a corner where even the wind seemed unwilling to linger.

  A small figure moved through the undergrowth, a hood covering his face.

  The soft crunch of his boots on the damp earth broke the silence while, in his hand, a faint manaquartz crystal cast a violet glow.

  The boy stopped when he reached an old structure half-buried in the soil.

  An ancient crypt, overgrown with roots and moss, sealed shut with thick planks and worn-out runes.

  For a moment, only the whisper of the forest could be heard…

  until he lowered his hood.

  It was a boy with chestnut hair and deep violet eyes, calm, yet burning with that familiar spark of curiosity that always pushed him beyond what was allowed.

  His lips curved into a mischievous smile, one that only someone very close to him would recognize.

  “This is going to be interesting…” he whispered, while the crystal floated beside him, slowly spinning.

  From inside his tunic, he pulled out a small tool engraved with the Eryndel emblem and held it toward the sealed entrance.

  Black birds burst from the treetops with a sudden cry.

  The wind rose, stirring leaves and dust.

  And just as he placed his hand on the planks, a faint blue shimmer flickered before his eyes.

  The Soul Panel opened on its own, displaying a small red triangle beside his mana bar.

  [Adverse effect detected]

  Sora stared at it in silence for a few seconds… and smiled quietly.

  “So… you can feel it too,” he murmured.

  The warning blinked once more before fading away, and the sound of wood giving way marked the beginning of something that, from that very afternoon onward, would change the fate of Elythera.