"Virel, I can't sleep," Lysera whispered, her voice barely audible beneath the rustling of the tent cloth.
I looked over at her those teal eyes shimmered faintly in the pale glow of the mist filtering through the canopy. "Then how about a story?" I suggested softly. "My mom used to tell me one every night when I couldn't sleep."
Her small face lit up instantly. "Really? Tell me!"
Her excitement tugged a small smile out of me. "All right… but you can't laugh if it's boring."
As she giggled and nodded eagerly, I began recounting fragments of my past the quiet town of Eldervale, the smell of bread from the old bakery, my mother's voice echoing through our little home. Some of the words caught in my throat, but Lysera's innocent curiosity eased the weight on my chest.
When I ran out of stories to tell, I asked, "What's it like living in Sylvean?"
She hummed thoughtfully, tapping her chin. "Hmm… not so different, I think. We all go to the learning halls where we study our history and the language of spirits. When we awaken, we get chosen by mentors who teach us to use mana properly. After that, we train… a lot."
Her words carried a strange mix of pride and weariness, like a melody she'd heard too many times.
"I see…" I murmured. The Sylv had an entirely different system more refined, structured, and guided. Their small, close-knit society allowed that kind of unity. Meanwhile, humans… we were scattered, divided, chasing strength in chaos. It wasn't better or worse, just different. But it explained a lot about why the Sylv could endure the mist when others couldn't.
I stood up and offered my hand to help her off the ground. She blinked at it, hesitating for a moment before her tiny fingers wrapped around mine. Her cheeks flushed, and she quickly looked away. I pretended not to notice.
"Try to sleep now," I said. "I'll keep watch outside."
"But… aren't you tired?" she asked, her voice small. "My mom says children should sleep early. Early to bed, early to rise!"
I chuckled quietly. "It's fine. I'm not as young as you think." If I counted both lives Kael and Virel Ludin combined I'd lived far longer than five years. Far longer than I wanted to remember.
She pouted but eventually gave in, curling beneath the blanket. "Okay… but if the mist ghosts come, don't blame me."
The corners of my lips twitched. "I'll take my chances."
Once her breathing steadied, I sat cross-legged outside the tent and closed my eyes. This was the first time I'd meditated without Seraphyra and Aphyra beside me. The silence felt heavier emptier.
I turned my focus inward, to my mana core. The faint glow pulsed in rhythm with my heartbeat. Within it, I could sense traces of Seraphyra's "essence," a warm thread weaving through my core like sunlight bleeding into water. Yet faint markings like ancient runes flickered along its surface. What did they mean?
Before I could look closer, a trembling voice cut through my concentration.
"V-Virel?"
I turned. Lysera's small hand poked out from under the blanket. "What's wrong?" I asked gently.
She stammered, "I-I just thought… maybe you should sleep too. Mist ghosts… they come for children who stay awake. If they see you, they'll take you away."
I blinked. "So, you're awake just to warn me about ghosts?"
"Of course not!" she protested, cheeks puffing. "I was merely… suggesting the safest course of action!" Then she quickly buried her face back under the blanket, muffling a tiny, embarrassed squeak.
Her voice grew smaller. "…I'm scared to sleep alone."
I sighed softly, but there was warmth behind it. "All right. You win."
Sliding into the tent, I lay down beside her. She flinched at first, then shifted so her back faced me. The silence stretched, broken only by her faint whispering.
"…Mom… Dad…"
Her trembling hands clutched the fabric of my shirt. My chest tightened. She was just a child, lost and almost taken by monsters both human and otherwise. I gently patted her head. Her breathing slowed, steadying as she drifted to sleep, a small smile replacing her fear.
I stayed awake a bit longer, watching the mist move beyond the tent like a living thing. Its whispers brushed against my mind, soft and almost sorrowful. Eventually, I too succumbed to sleep.
---
When my eyes fluttered open, morning light struggled through the haze. For a second, I forgot where I was. Then I glanced down Lysera's head rested on my lap, her silver hair a tangled halo.
"Lysera," I whispered, nudging her shoulder. "Time to get up. We have to move."
Her eyes blinked open, unfocused. "Did I… fall asleep on you?"
"Seems like it," I said with a small grin. "Don't worry about it."
She sat up, cheeks pink. Together, we folded the tent and packed our few supplies before setting out again.
The days blurred after that. The mist never cleared, only shifted thick, cold, endless. Lysera grew more talkative, less shy. She'd tease the way I spoke, saying I "tried too hard to sound like a grown-up." I didn't deny it. Maybe she was right.
Once, while resting, a sharp pain pierced through my abdomen. I clutched my chest, barely suppressing a groan. The ache spread from my sternum down to my gut before fading. Cold sweat dampened my shirt.
My mana core… it's still recovering, I realized. The imbalance must have triggered the pain. I'd have to be careful one wrong move could undo all the progress I'd made.
When the ache subsided, we continued on. No tree golems, no beasts just the sound of our footsteps and the quiet hum of the mist. Each night, we shared stories under the faint light of the mana lantern.
Our journey through the Sylvean mists began to feel less like wandering and more like searching for something neither of us could name.
"How far do you think the teleportation tree is now?" I asked one evening as we stopped to rest.
Lysera squinted into the fog, as if the answer might appear if she stared hard enough. "Close," she whispered. "I can feel the mana calling. The trees in Sylvean… ."
I looked at her, a faint smile tugging at my lips. "Then let's hope they remember how to get us home."