Recovering from his daze, Albert made his way back to the hut. The faint scent of ash still lingered in the air, clinging to his clothes and hair. The fire was still burning, though its flame had grown smaller.
Nara sat beside it, she then stirred the pot with slow, deliberate motions. Her presence felt unchanged, as if the passage of time within the hut held no meaning.
He sat down on the wooden bed, its frame creaking faintly under his weight. The warmth from the fire reached his face in soft waves, but it did little to drive away the memory of what had just happened.
For a while, silence filled the room. Only the sound of burning wood and the occasional snap of the fire echoed faintly between them.
Then, Albert's gaze drifted toward Nara. "What exactly is the Plane?" he asked. His voice was calm, with a hint of curiosity.
Nara stopped stirring. The faint light from the fire reflected in her eyes as she turned to look at him.
"The Plane…" she said slowly, as if weighing her words.
She set the ladle aside and rose to her feet. The light from the fire followed her movement, bending across the uneven planks of the wall, then she cradled the baby.
"Do you have faith?" Nara asked.
"I was taught," Albert replied, "but never devoted."
"I see… this will make things easier," she said in a calm, steady voice before continuing. "The Plane is the final realm for all beings—a place for souls... But only those who can withstand the weight of their sins may enter. The heavier the sin, the greater the suffering—no one can escape it. Those who can't endure eventually fall apart. They become the Fallen—corrupted beings, punished by their own guilt."
Albert leaned forward, his hands clasped beneath his chin. He listened intently, hoping to grasp anything that could help him survive in this strange place.
"Every natural being has its own soul," she continued. "Trees, birds, fish—even insects. Since they have no perception of sin, they pass through the Plane easily, unlike us."
"I see... It's like having a second chance," he whispered, letting the thought sink in.
"There are two ways to enter the Plane. The first, and most common, is death—though it requires facing the weight of one's sin. The second demands the offering of blood through a ritual prayer." she added, cradling the baby and rocking it gently, her movements filled with quiet care.
"Blood…" Albert murmured.
"I see, so that's what happened." He recalled that the last step of the ritual was to sacrifice the blood—which he did, though he did so by shattering the glass.
"A divine is a being who once faced the trials of their sins, but endured and gradually strengthened their soul for thousands of years, ascending to the higher Plane." She continued.
"So they were once a mortal..." Albert murmured, struggling to imagine what a thousand years in this place would feel like.
"A divine has to use a portion of their soul to help someone enter the Plane, so it's very important that the blood to be sacrificed must come from a divine being, as divine's blood replenishes the lost portion of their soul and can even increase it—hence, some divines are willing to respond to rituals." Nara explained in great detail, seemingly keen to teach Albert. "This ritual is mostly performed by Divines who seek to return, or to guide their blood kin—those with divine blood coursing through them—to the Plane. Only those with divine blood have the highest chance of entering through it, since it costs the Divine within the Plane only a small portion of their soul to assist them."
"So it was a divine's blood in the bottle... What if someone used ordinary blood instead?" Albert asked, remembering how his own blood had spilled during the ritual when he was stabbed.
"The divine might still respond—but I doubt it," Nara said, her tone deliberate. "Since helping someone with ordinary blood drains a tremendous amount of their soul, and to 'them', regular blood is worthless. No divine would risk their soul to help a normal person. You might even end up dying on the spot for disturbing them"
"Then… doesn't that mean only the child was meant to enter the Plane, leaving me behind? Why would a divine help me, if it would cost them so much?" he thought to himself.
"Based on your question, you must have used regular blood," Nara said, as if confirming.
"It wasn't intentional," Albert replied. "I was stabbed first, and some of my blood dripped during the ritual, but I did manage to use divine's blood in the end."
"I see...'She' must've really liked your blood if 'She' waswilling to help you," Nara replied, revealing a faint smirk.
Albert's eyes widened, his thoughts tumbling as he tried to piece it together.
Before he could ask, Nara approached the basket slowly and gently set the baby down.
She then walked towards the window, staring at the calm forest and said.
"This makes me wonder… What exactly are y—" The words barely left her lips before Albert's head throbbed violently, as though something sharp had pierced his brain! He was on the verge of realizing something, but something deliberately prevented him from probing further, causing him to clutch his head in agony.
Albert writhed in pain, nearly dragging himself across the floor, his trembling hands clawing at the ground as if searching for something to hold.
"I… can't… breathe…" he gasped in pain, clutching his chest as the world blurred. Just as he was about to lose consciousness, Nara stepped forward once more.
"Shaal'en vahr…" Nara uttered in ancient language, her voice steady, as light began to shimmer around Albert.
Albert slowly began to regain his composure. He rose on trembling legs, only to collapse back onto the bed, sitting with his hands clenched so tightly they ached, as if holding himself together by sheer will.
"You only guessed a portion of the truth, and here you are—already crawling," Nara said in a calm, almost amused voice.
"So this is what you meant by bearing the truth…" he muttered, his voice barely a whisper.
Nara turned and walked slowly toward the small pantry in the corner. She reached in and opened a jar, retrieving a dried, fruit-like piece, which she then handed to Albert.
"Eat it," she said in a stern voice.
Albert glanced at it briefly, then ate it without hesitation—perhaps out of trust, or simply because her voice left no room for doubt.
The taste was sweet, with a faint hint of sourness, and its flesh yielded softly between his teeth. As he chewed, a gentle calm began to seep through him, mending what felt broken within at a remarkable pace.
"Thank you..." He said softly, gradually regaining his energy.
"Hmm… it seems your soul has strengthened a bit. Perhaps the pain tempered it," Nara said, her gaze thoughtful, as if observing the outcome of an experiment.
"I felt it too… it's like something inside me has settled," Albert said, nodding slightly.
He glanced at his chest, wondering if the newfound power had left any visible trace upon him.
"Sigh... Men and their need to see power.
You're still a long way from understanding things." Nara said with a small, amused smirk.
"I'll… take that as a compliment." Albert scratched his head, chuckling nervously.
She then slowly walked towards the table, conjuring what seemed to be a teapot of pale porcelain. Two cups appeared beside it, then she lowered herself into the seat with quiet composure.
"Come, sit," she said gently as she poured the tea.
Albert sat down, the cup warm in his hands as he took a sip. The tea was smooth and faintly sweet, with a subtle floral note that reminded him of mornings from his childhood. Each sip brought a quiet warmth, the kind that made the world feel just a little safer.
"By the way, humans aren't the only race here." She added.
Albert's brow furrowed, as if he had just heard something intriguing. As someone who loved reading novels, his curiosity was instantly piqued.
"What races?" Albert asked with great interest.
"More than you can imagine. The Plane isn't limited to Earth—there are countless galaxies beyond the universe, and within them, endless worlds. Some live without the need for air, some exist entirely beneath the oceans, and others reign over kingdoms that drift among the clouds…"
"Incredible… This is far more exciting than reading," Albert muttered, his eyes glinting with excitement.
"The Plane is a realm of both beauty and terror. Those who tread carelessly are soon swallowed by it," Nara warned softly.
Albert nodded in silence, he wanted to know more, but before he could ask—Nara spoke.
"The fire is fading. Go and gather some wood first."
Albert was surprised by the sudden request. His eyes shifted toward the window. The faint light from the moon traced the outline of the trees beyond, their shapes barely visible.
"After what happened earlier?" he asked nervously.
"Don't worry, the forest has returned to its dormant state" Her voice carried an unsettling certainty that made Albert hesitate for a moment.
He glanced around the room once more—the sleeping child resting inside the basket, the wavering shadows stretching across the floor, and Nara's steady figure across the table.
Then finally he nodded. "Alright."
He placed his hand on the door's wooden handle, the same one he had held before.
Albert froze for a moment, then stepped outside.
The air felt more normal than before. The warmth of the hut faded quickly, replaced by the cold breath of the forest.
"Sigh... at least it's not as creepy as before" he noted before stepping forward carefully.
The earth beneath his feet was soft and damp, with fallen leaves that muffled through his steps.
He looked up and noticed that the moon was brighter than a full moon on Earth. Thanks to its light, he could see the path ahead. He also noticed a faint bluish ring encircling it.
"Peculiar…" he muttered.
He walked deeper and deeper into the forest until he finally saw what looked like a dead tree.
Albert knelt beside the fallen trunk and began to gather wood. The bark was cold beneath his fingers—damp with dew as he pulled smaller branches free.
"She said even trees have their own soul, but what happens if it dies here?" he wondered, gazing at the fallen trunk before him.
For a moment, everything remained normal—until a faint sound stirred behind him.
*Rustle rustle*
He stopped moving as he cautiously looked around.
The noise was slow and deliberate, like footsteps brushing through wet leaves.
Albert straightened, the bundle of wood still in his hands.
"Nara?" he called out, his voice low.
No one answered.
The forest remained motionless. Only the fog shifted, curling faintly between the trees.
"Phew..." He exhaled softly before turning back to his task. But as he reached for another piece of wood, his fingers brushed against something strange—cold and smooth, unlike the bark or the earth.
He looked down and froze.
It was a mark seared faintly into the earth, its shape forming a pattern that resembled the knot on his chest! The lines glowed softly, pulsing once with a dull red light before sinking back into the soil as if swallowed by it.
Albert stepped back, his heart tightening as the air shifted once more.
He swallowed hard and hurriedly gathered the remaining wood before heading back.
Whatever the mark was, he didn't want to find out what it meant. A sinking feeling told him he wasn't ready for what was about to happen if he deliberately approached it.
When he finally reached the hut, Nara was tending the fire. She glanced up for a moment then asked.
"You saw something?" Her expression unreadable, before returning her gaze to the flames.
Albert, unsurprised by how Nara knew, set the wood down beside the hearth. He crouched by the fire, rubbing his palms together to chase away the cold.
"Yes, I encountered something," Albert said, his eyes fixed on the flames.