High in the mountain ranges where clouds drifted like giants in slow motion, a wide clearing opened beneath the pale sky. A chain of enormous floating platforms hovered in the air — each one a massive slab of stone suspended by ancient runes, linked to the next by thick, glowing bindings.
Enormous, winged creatures descended, their six wide wings beating heavy gusts through the air. Four curved horns framed each of their three heads, and bronze fur bristled along their shoulders as they landed. These were intercontinental mounts — living relics from a forgotten age, now used to carry people between distant kingdoms.
One of the creatures let out a low, thunderous breath and lowered itself beside the others. From its back, a lone hooded figure leapt down. He was lean, worn by travel, a heavy pack slung over one shoulder and his steps firm with purpose.
He walked to a stone counter where an elven attendant stood watching. The elf's beard was thick and braided with silver; an eyepatch glowed faintly over his left eye, inscribed with runes that pulsed like a heartbeat. His gaze followed the boy with the wariness of someone who'd watched too many things arrive broken.
More than a year had passed since his training began. As Noah opened a small cloth pouch, his hands — once calloused from hard work — caught the morning light, thin new scars rising pale against his skin.
He drew three rhenes from the pouch and slid them across the stone counter. They were dull gray slabs, each no larger than his palm, bearing a softly pulsing green triangle at its center.
"Straight trip from the human kingdom?" the elf asked, accepting the rhenes. "That route shakes most passengers to the bone. Surprised you didn't lose your stomach."
Noah gave a half-smile. "After what my Master put me through? That ride felt like a vacation."
The elf chuckled once, low in his chest, and scratched his beard.
"Three hundred years doing this. First time I've heard that one… anyway." He tucked the rhenes into a drawer. "Good luck, kid. Where to next?"
Noah adjusted the strap on his shoulder.
"To the Elven Summoner Academy."
Silence stretched between them. The elf blinked slowly. His eyepatch shimmered again.
He reached into the drawer again and pulled one of the rhenes back out, placing it gently in the boy's hand. "You'll need more than me."
Noah gave a quiet nod, slipped the stone into his coat, and turned toward the edge.
From the landing terrace just beside the mountain's flank, Noah stepped off the floating platform and onto solid ground. Behind him, the platform hovered a few paces out over the drop below — held in place by thick chains of glowing runes anchored deep into the rock. Its stone surface hummed softly, drifting with the slow, steady motion of something alive. It was the last skybound point before the climb.
He turned to face the view below.
The elven kingdom stretched out far beneath the ridge — a mosaic of silver towers and winding bridges woven into the vast emerald forest. Sunlight slid across crystal rooftops and pale stone streets, making the whole city shimmer like carved glass. From up here, even the capital looked small, fragile against the endless wilderness surrounding it.
The mountain trail branched in two directions from the terrace. One path descended the mountainside, winding toward the kingdom's outer districts far below. The other twisted sharply upward — a steep, ancient road cut into the stone, framed by dense pines and jagged ridges.
Noah lifted his eyes toward the summit.
Perched high above, clinging to the mountain like a cathedral carved from moonlight, stood the Elven Summoner Academy. Its towers speared into the clouds, runic banners snapping in the wind — blue, silver, and white like shards of sky. Suspended bridges linked its spires, and tiny flecks of essence drifted from the upper terraces, vanishing into the air like falling stars.
The place looked unreachable. Untouchable. Exactly as he had imagined — and nothing he was prepared for.
He tightened the strap of his pack, drew a slow breath, and stepped toward the ascending trail.
One step onto the stone. One breath toward the future.
Noah followed the path, replaying his Master's instructions in his mind.
'Just applying won't be enough, there's a practical test.
'Fail it, and they won't even consider you.
I really hope there's no written exam…
No matter how much I begged, Master always said the same thing:
'Books can wait.
'Your Soul Heart is what needs training.
I'd heard those words more times than I can remember — but after six months of hell, I finally understood what she meant.
He raised his palm. In a breath, wind began to swirl around it, condensing into a thin vibrating blade. He flicked his wrist and launched it toward a nearby rock.
The impact hit like a sharp, clean whisper of air splitting stone — but the surface remained unmarked.
A few steps later, behind him, the rock split clean in two — as if the stone realized the blow too late.
This is just the beginning.
When I find them…
I'll make sure it doesn't end quickly.
The moment Noah stepped past the final ridge, he froze.
Dozens of students were making their way in — some stepping through glowing portals, others descending on smaller, more refined mounts. All of them, elves. Dressed in embroidered cloaks and robes that shimmered with spell-woven threads.
Great…
Hopefully glowing cloaks aren't part of the admission requirements…
He looked down at his scuffed boots and tattered coat, then up at the grand gates before him.
Etched into the marble arch above was the symbol from his pendant: two crossed swords behind a shield, a heart-shaped flame at its center, and curling leaves climbing along the edges — set against the dark blue stone.
Delicate towers stretched skyward, elegant and precise, shaped from white marble that caught the sunlight like polished bone. Bridges arched between buildings like strands of silk, and students moved across them in quiet clusters, laughter echoing through the breeze. Yet beneath the beauty, there was a stillness — something ancient and unyielding in the bones of this place.
He followed signs toward the registration hall.
Inside, an elf sat behind a wide stone desk, scanning his token with a glowing slate. He glanced up, expression unreadable.
"Name?"
"Noah."
The elf flipped a page on a thick, rune-bound ledger.
"Elemental affinity?"
Master said most people only have one…
If I tell him I'm attuned to all of them, it'll just raise questions.
Noah lowered his voice. "Light."
Another page turned.
"Weapons?"
Noah shifted slightly, revealing the sword strapped at his side.
"Runicblade."
The elf's eyes lingered on it, curious.
"You're aware that just having a runed weapon isn't enough to sync with elemental essence?"
Trying not to draw more attention than necessary, Noah replied flatly, "I'm aware. My sword is a family heirloom, is that going to be a problem?"
The elf gave a slow shake of his head. "Not at all."
After a pause, he tapped something into a glowing tablet and gave a curt nod. "You've been assigned to Trial Zone C. A partner will be assigned shortly."
Noah frowned. "I work alone."
The elf didn't even look up. "Not here, you don't. Pairing's been the standard for over a hundred years. If you're unhappy with that, you're welcome to leave. Otherwise — you're getting a partner. Now get moving."
Noah's jaw tightened. He nodded once and turned away.
The waiting room beyond was quiet — just a single long couch and a tall window that opened to the mountain's edge, where clouds drifted across the cliffs far below. He didn't sit. He paced, letting the silence sharpen his thoughts as he replayed everything Master had drilled into him over the past year, one strike at a time, like lining up blades on a table.
Then, the door creaked open.
An instructor stepped in, followed by a tall elven girl with long, golden hair and steady, focused eyes. She stood just a little shorter than Noah — with perfect posture and a presence that felt almost visible. Her movements were graceful, measured. A silver Runicblade with glowing blue runes hung at her side.
Syl took in the boy standing in the room.
A human?
Maybe he knows the boy I met that day…
Don't be ridiculous, Syl.
Just because he's human doesn't mean he knows every human in the kingdom.
Still…
At least if he doesn't know I'm a princess, he won't treat me like I'm fragile.
Like I'll break.
Because there, it didn't matter whether you were the daughter of a king or a street-born orphan. Inside the Academy, everyone was equal. No special treatment. No titles. You passed or failed on your own merit.
She stepped toward him, her voice composed and polite.
"Hi, I'm Syl. Nice to meet you."
He barely looked at her. Just reached out, shook her hand quickly, and muttered, "Noah."
Then he turned to the instructor. "Can we go now?"
She blinked, caught off guard by the chill in his tone.
"Is that how people normally greet others in your kingdom?"
Noah paused for half a second, then answered without turning.
"I'm not here to make friends. The faster we start, the faster it ends."
The instructor, unbothered, finished activating a glowing portal.
"This will take you to Trial Zone C. You'll have five days to find the exit of the labyrinth. Good luck."
Without another word, Noah stepped through.
Syl hesitated for half a breath, then gave the instructor a quick bow before following him in.
Humans are so cold… and rude. But the flower boy wasn't like this. I'll find him one day.
"Hey. Human. Wait up—"
The portal shimmered once, then sealed shut behind her.
On the other side of the portal, Noah stood still, waiting. The space around them was dim, the air cool and thick with the scent of stone and moss.
Stretching before them was a massive labyrinth, its stone walls towering over ten yards high, slick with moisture and tangled with moss. The ceiling above wasn't sky, but jagged rock — shadowed and vast, with faint glowing points scattered high above.
Syl stepped through the portal and stopped at his side. Her gaze swept upward, then around the vast stone corridor that swallowed them whole.
"We're inside the mountain," she said quietly.
Noah glanced at her, one eyebrow raised. "How can you be sure? We just got here."
She turned to him, eyes narrowing.
"For someone who didn't want to work as a team, you're awfully curious."
He gave a faint, respectful bow of his head. "Sorry if what I said before came off wrong. I just want to get this over with. Can we call a truce and work together?"
She let out a soft huff and pointed upward.
"See those glowing tips above us? They're not stars. They're essence stalactites. When essence condenses over time, that's what it turns into. And since portals inside the Academy can't transport us outside its boundaries, the only place we could be is underneath it. Most likely, deep within the mountain. They've probably used some kind of spatial sigil to expand the space inside."
Noah looked up, then back at her with the hint of a smile. "Sorry for being rude earlier, really. Seems like you're going to end up helping more than getting in the way."
She crossed her arms, lips twitching.
"That's your apology? First you thank me, then you imply I might still turn out to be a burden? You should consider signing up for etiquette lessons once we're in the Academy."
She brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, exhaling sharply.
"Now, if you don't mind — let's get into this maze before night falls. We've only got five days."
Noah walked through the massive corridor, the soft echo of their footsteps was the only sound threading through the passage. Moss clung thick along the walls, but the stone floor beneath them was worn smooth by time — marked by centuries of use.
Syl moved ahead, glancing left and right, pausing every few steps to study the winding path — then glancing back as if to reassure herself he was still following.
After a while, he stopped.
"You're lost, aren't you?"
She halted and turned sharply, feigning confidence.
"I'm not lost. I'm pretty sure if we take the next left, we'll find a clearing or something. I can feel it."
But her words trailed off. Noah wasn't just standing still anymore — he was sprinting toward her with a cold, sharp intensity in his eyes. She stiffened, uncertain and startled.
Is he insane? Did the maze mess with his mind? What should I do? I—
"Duck," Noah barked, unsheathing his sword.
It flashed for a brief second, runes flaring with light. And with a single clean strike, he sliced through a shadowy beast lunging from the wall — a twisted creature, shaped like an oversized rat, that vanished the moment his blade met it.
He turned and extended a hand to help her up, a smirk tugging at his lips.
But before she could decide whether to take his hand, her instincts flared. In one fluid motion, she drew her Runicblade. The blade glared like sunlight piercing darkness, and in a blink, she thrust it past his cheek — impaling another shadow creature that had snuck up behind him. It dissolved into black mist. She lowered her blade and sheathed it with a precise flick.
"Now we're even," she said coolly. "I don't like owing anyone."
Noah raised an eyebrow and gave a small nod.
"Fair enough. But can I take the lead now? I'm not saying you can't handle yourself, clearly you can. But I was trained to track things."
She hesitated, her lips tightening with reluctant agreement. Then, with a sweeping, exaggerated gesture, she motioned for him to pass.
"Be my guest, tracker."
Noah brushed past her with a quiet smirk, and together they continued deeper into the maze, their footsteps swallowed by the winding corridors.
The maze breathed around them: cold stone, distant echoes, the faint pulse of essence in the walls.
A few minutes later, the passage opened into a small, sheltered clearing — a pocket of space carved naturally into the labyrinth.
Syl surveyed it with a slow, deliberate nod.
"I think this will do. Let me try to find some water for us, while you set up the camp."
Noah agreed with a small nod and started pulling the supplies from his backpack. The faint glow of the stalactites washed over him as time passed, and soon a small campsite had taken shape — two canvas tents pitched against the cavern wall, a lantern stone crackling softly, and their gear arranged in a neat, practiced order. The stillness of the place made it feel almost warm. Almost safe.
He glanced around for Syl, but the clearing was empty.
With a low sigh, he pulled off his worn shirt, letting the cool cavern air graze his skin. Scars crossed his back in pale strokes, quiet remnants of places and battles he never talked about. He reached into his pack, retrieving a fresh shirt — but paused, distracted by the ceiling above.
The glow from the stalactites was fading slowly, dimming in waves, as if the cave followed a hidden sun. "Did she get lost?" he murmured, eyes still on the drifting light.
That was the moment Syl returned.
She stepped into the clearing just as he lifted the clean shirt — and froze. Her breath stalled in her chest. His back was to her, muscles defined by discipline rather than vanity, the faint curve of scars catching the soft blue glow of the cavern. She didn't mean to stare… but for a few seconds, she simply couldn't look away.
Only when Noah tugged the shirt down over his shoulders did he notice her presence.
"Hey," he said gently, brow raised. "You alright? Is there something behind me again?"
Syl jerked her head aside, face flushing. "H-Hey! Maybe give a warning next time before you just — just do that out of nowhere!"
His posture stiffened immediately, pulling the shirt down to his waist as if it suddenly mattered more. "Sorry. Old habit… I hope I didn't offend you. I'm not exactly well-versed in elven customs."
He gestured vaguely at the clearing around them, trying to shift the moment. "Turns out there was a clearing after all. Not exactly at the next left like you said, but… close enough."
Syl opened her mouth to retort — and then her eyes caught something glinting at his collar.
She stopped cold. Her heartbeat stumbled.
"Wait… that necklace." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Where did you get it? Did you buy it?"
Noah lifted the pendant slightly, letting the soft essence — light catch on its surface.
"This? A girl gave it to me when I was twelve. I never saw her again, but she promised we'd meet someday. I know it sounds dumb, but… it's the only good thing that's stayed with me these last seven years."
He pressed the necklace against his chest — almost unconsciously, thumb brushing over the worn metal.
"So once I finish what I came here to do…" his voice dipped. "Maybe I'll try to find her. Though honestly… she was so pretty and cool, I doubt she even remembers me."
Syl smiled faintly, looking at the ground. Her voice came quiet, unguarded.
"You know… she kind of sounds like you."
Her heart thudded. Her fingers fidgeted. Her ears felt warm.
Then Noah said:
"My Master always said she was probably an elf. I still don't buy it. I think she was human. But she was just as… directionally challenged as you. That part I remember clearly."
The warmth vanished from Syl's face in an instant. She glanced away with an exasperated breath.
"For the record, I'm not directionally challenged. I just don't have the best spatial sense. But I make up for it in other ways. Just so you know."
Noah shrugged with a tiny grin. "If you say so."
He tucked the necklace back under his shirt and stepped into the tent, leaving Syl outside with a heartbeat doing flips in her chest.
She crossed her arms, eyes fixed on the dirt.
Could it really be him?
No… it doesn't make sense. He wasn't this rude.
But that necklace…
It was a gift from my big sister.
I still remember how she freaked out when I got back and pretended I'd lost it.
I gave it to him that day. And he thinks I was human… of course, the hat.
He could at least listen to his Master for once.
She swallowed hard.
How am I even supposed to tell him it was me?
Feels almost like something wanted us to meet again…
But at least now I know his name.
A quiet storm of nostalgia, joy, and trembling fear stirred in her chest, each heartbeat whispering a name she couldn't say until now…
She whispered to herself, with a bright smile.
"Noah… I like it."
She stood beneath the mountain's quiet glow, watching Noah's tent with a heart she hadn't felt in years.
Tomorrow will be just an ordinary morning.
But for her… it would finally mean something again.