The sleep didn't came easily that night, but when it came —
Darkness first. Then warmth — faint, like sunlight bleeding through closed eyelids.
Aanha stood in a field of glass, each blade of grass reflecting light like crystal. The air shimmered gold and silver, sky split between night and day — one half sun, one half moon.
Her breath fogged even in the golden air. "Where… am I?"
From beyond the horizon came a sound — the clash of metal, the cry of wind against flame.When she turned, she saw a city in chaos — floating towers crumbling, rivers of molten light twisting through black clouds.
And then — she saw her. A woman cloaked in silver, hair white as ash, eyes glowing the same gold as Aanha's fire. The woman turned toward her, lips moving soundlessly before a whisper reached Aanha's ears:
"You must remember what we sealed… before they do."
Behind the woman, a shard of light floated — half gold, half obsidian, humming softly, veins of crimson running through it.The air around it pulsed like a heartbeat.
Aanha stepped forward, unable to stop herself. Every part of her screamed that she knew that shard — had once held it, once bled for it.
The woman's voice echoed again — softer this time, almost sorrowful."Child of both suns… the shard you bear is not whole. When the last piece wakes, so will she."
Before Aanha could ask who "she" was, the city shattered like glass. Fire and shadow collided, swallowing everything in a blinding wave—
Aanha woke with a sharp inhale. The first light of dawn poured through the window, cutting across her face. Sweat clung to her skin, and the pendant against her chest was burning hot.
She hurried downstairs. Sai and Granny were already awake — Sai tracing sigils over the map spread on the table, Granny brewing something in her steaming cauldron.
Aanha's voice cracked slightly. "I saw it again. The shard. It… it was in a city — floating, burning — and there was a woman. She said the shard I bear isn't whole."
Both of them froze. Sai slowly turned toward her, eyes sharp.
Sai: "You bear one?"
Aanha nodded, showing them the pendant. "It was glowing the same way."
Granny approached, her face grave but not surprised.
Granny: "Then the seal did more than just awaken your flame. It unbound what your father hid — a fragment of the Origin Shard."
Aanha: "Origin… shard?"
Sai: "The core that powered the Elemental Realms before the Collapse. When the war broke out, the shards were split and hidden across the realms to stop anyone from wielding both light and shadow at once."
Granny (quietly): "Your father took one with him — the ember half. He sealed it within you the day he sent you here."
The room fell silent. Even the air seemed heavier.Aanha clutched the pendant, her pulse echoing against its warmth. "Then… the woman I saw?"
Granny: "Your mother. The one who holds the other half — the shadow shard."
The words hit like thunder. Aanha staggered slightly, her throat tightening. "But… she—"
Sai (cutting in): "If that's true, it means both halves are stirring. The Wraiths will feel it too. They'll be drawn to the resonance."
Granny nodded grimly. "Which means this place won't stay safe for long. We must prepare before they find the trail again."
Aanha clenched her fists. "Then teach me faster. I won't keep running."
Sai glanced at her — the faintest smirk flickering at the corner of his lips, though his eyes stayed serious.
Sai: "Careful what you ask for, little bear. Training for balance is one thing. Training with a shard inside you…"
He tapped the table twice, the runes flaring in response.
Sai (quietly): "…that's another level entirely."
Granny placed her hand gently on Aanha's shoulder.
Granny: "You'll learn. But remember — strength without memory leads to ruin. The shard remembers what you've forgotten for a reason."
Aanha looked down at the pendant again — its light steady, faintly pulsing in rhythm with her heartbeat.For the first time, she could feel it — the quiet hum beneath her skin, like an echo of something ancient waiting to be heard.
The air inside Granny's house had gone still. Only the rhythmic ticking of the wooden clock and the faint hum of protective wards broke the silence. The moonlight filtered through the lattice window, painting silver lines across the floor.
Aanha turned in her sleep, the pendant resting over her collarbone glowing faintly. The warmth pulsed once—twice—then grew hotter. Her eyelids fluttered.
Aanha (murmuring): "Stop… please stop…"
Then — the faint sound of scraping. Not inside the house. Outside. Something was brushing against the outer fence, the one made of spiritwood.
Sai, half-awake from his meditative posture, opened his eyes instantly. The runes around the room faintly shifted hue — blue to orange.
Sai (under his breath): "Distortion…? At this hour?"
He stood and moved to the window. Outside, beyond the shimmering ward line, shadows gathered — not solid, not human, but moving.
The wards flared once as if warning them, then steadied.
Granny (appearing silently behind him): "They're testing the barrier. Again."
Sai clenched his jaw. "Persistent. They shouldn't even be able to sense this place."
Granny's eyes flicked toward the small sleeping figure on the bed. "They shouldn't. But the stone's resonance… it hasn't stopped calling."
Before she finished, Aanha gasped — her pendant burned brightly gold for a second, then silvery blue, lighting the entire room. Her body jolted upright with a soft cry.
Aanha (half-dreaming): "The shadows… they're reaching—"
Sai rushed forward, placing his palm over the pendant. His sigils flared across his skin, wind marks glowing turquoise.
Sai: "Hush, it's reacting again!"
Granny's voice firmed, hands weaving quick signs. "Seal of Veil — restore silence!"
With a whisper, the light dimmed, and the resonance faded. Outside, the scratching stopped. The night returned to stillness.
Aanha blinked rapidly, heart pounding. "W-what happened?"
Granny (soft but grave): "Your pendant called something. Or someone answered it."
Aanha stared down at the faintly glowing gem, trembling. "Then… that voice—it wasn't just a dream."
Granny laid a hand on her shoulder. "No, child. Sometimes blood remembers what mind forgets. And yours remembers too much."
Sai exhaled slowly, glancing toward the still-glowing fence. "The wards held… barely. But if the Wraiths find a stronger link, this place won't stay hidden."
Granny: "Then we strengthen her. She must learn to balance her flame before it consumes her — or draws worse things."
The old woman's tone left no room for argument. Sai simply nodded.