The dawn's sun rose, casting its golden breath across the land. Warm hues spilled over the mountain peaks, painting Lyvoria Crest in strokes of amber and rose. A gentle breeze carried the haunting tune of a flute, its sound weaving through the leaves that swayed at the summit's edge.
Vivia's eyelids trembled before parting slowly, greeted by a brilliance that bathed her face in light. The music found her ears—tender, wistful, and impossibly serene. A melody that seemed to cleanse the remnants of night and sorrow, as if the world itself had paused to listen.
She stirred, startled by the comfort in her body. The pain was gone. Her wounds... healed.
"My wounds… where—" she started, her voice soft and unsure.
But her words faded as her instincts guided her forward. Drawn by the song, she rose and stepped into the morning light, following the source of the melody with cautious hope in her chest.
She stepped through the doors—and the sight that met her eyes was one she would carry forever.
Dawn had broken in gentle brilliance, casting lavender and pale gold across the sky, bathing the mist-wrapped mountains in a soft, dreamlike glow. At the summit of the stone steps, the temple stood radiant, its open doors stretching wide in quiet welcome. Faint lanterns still burned along the path, their flickers now blending with the breath of a newborn morning. Twin dragon statues coiled beside the entrance, their stone eyes glinting with the light of daybreak. The air was thick with reverence—calm, sacred, and wrapped in the still hush of the world just waking.
She gazed toward the edge of the mountain, where the wind carried green leaves in elegant spirals, twirling like dancers to an unseen melody. And there, framed by the rising light, stood the source of the song—the woman behind the flute, playing not with breath alone, but with her heart.
She was poised, effortlessly graceful, with short, deep violet hair pulled into a high ponytail, held in place by a crimson ribbon and a golden ornament that shimmered in the morning glow. Her sleeveless attire—white and black with gilded accents—clung neatly to her slender frame, refined yet battle-ready. Pale skin caught the light, and one hand hovered gently in the air, surrounded by a soft, ethereal glow that hinted at arcane strength. The open back of her garment revealed both vulnerability and control, while her stance—serene yet alert—spoke of someone elegant in form, but unmistakably lethal if crossed.
The melody lingered in the air for a moment longer, carried on the final breath of the wind before it faded into silence. At the very peak of the mountain, the woman gently lowered her flute, her voice smooth and composed as she spoke,
"Welcome. I hope your rest brought you peace."
She turned gracefully, her gaze meeting Vivia's—and in that instant, something in Vivia loosened. The pain, the fear, the weight of everything she'd endured only hours ago—it didn't vanish, but it softened. There was something calming in that look, like a still lake reflecting dawnlight.
Then the woman spoke again, her voice carrying the same ease as the wind that danced around them.
"You may have heard my name before. I'm called Avenya—caretaker of this shrine." Her tone was kind, almost maternal. "Tell me… are you still in pain? Exhausted, maybe? When I found you, you were barely holding on."
Vivia's voice came gently, as if tugged from some far-off memory.
"That melody… I've heard it before." Her eyes lowered, lost in recollection. "It's the one my brother used to play."
At her words, Avenya approached with quiet steps, placing the flute with deliberate care upon a smooth stone beside her—as if returning it to its rightful place.
"Oh, has he?" she replied with a graceful smile. "Then your brother must be more insightful than most. That song carries weight… memories... But let's not dwell too far in the past. I have a more pressing question for you." Her gaze grew a touch more serious, though still calm. "Why were you wandering the mountain forest with that boy? Don't worry, he's resting in one of the shrine's rooms now. Sleeping peacefully."
Vivia froze, her lips parting but no sound escaping. That name. That word. Sleeping.
"He's… sleeping?" she repeated in disbelief, her voice cracking.
Avenya nodded gently, folding her hands in front of her. "Yes. I managed to reach him in time. His soul was fractured, but not beyond repair. With effort, I was able to mend it. He's stable now—his spirit is intact. It'll be a while before he awakens, but he is safe. No lasting damage. You were lucky to have brought him here when you did."
Vivia's breath caught in her throat. The truth washed over her like a tidal wave, crashing against the weight of everything she had feared since that awful moment in the woods. Her knees buckled slightly, and tears welled in her eyes before spilling freely down her cheeks.
"You mean… he's really alive?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "His soul… it's healed?"
She clutched her chest as a sob escaped her lips. Her hands trembled, overwhelmed by the joy breaking through the despair she'd carried. "I… I thought I lost him. I thought he was gone forever…!"
Avenya stepped forward with the patience of someone who'd witnessed this many times before, placing a gentle hand on Vivia's shoulder.
"You didn't lose him," she said softly. "You saved him. It was your devotion that carried him here, through fire and pain. He's alive because you didn't give up."
Vivia nodded slowly, wiping her eyes, still struggling to believe it. "Thank you," she breathed, her voice shaking but full of gratitude. "Thank you so much…"
Avenya's smile returned, subtle and serene. "No need to thank me. You've already done more than most ever would. All that's left… is to be here when he opens his eyes again."
Then the thought crept into Vivia's mind—one whispered to her long before, by travelers, by fearful voices in hushed tones.
They had said Avenya was different. That she had once used her powers to heal human souls… and because of that, she'd vanished. Fled from the eyes of the world and taken refuge in this forgotten shrine.
Vivia bit her trembling lip, uncertainty flickering in her chest. She didn't want to doubt the woman who had just saved her brother, but the truth mattered more now than ever.
She took a shaky breath, her voice soft but edged with desperation.
"Can I ask you something… important?"
Avenya tilted her head, eyes calm and patient. "Of course."
Vivia hesitated, her throat tightening. "People… they say you have the power to heal souls. That you've used it before. But they also say that's why you disappeared. That… maybe you weren't supposed to use it. Is it true? Did you really… heal people like Cassian? And if so… why would anyone want you to stop?"
For a moment, silence hung between them. Only the breeze moved, brushing through the grass and flickering through the shrine lanterns.
Then Avenya looked away, gazing toward the edge of the mountain where light stretched across the sky like silk.
"Yes," she said quietly. "It's true. I once used my power freely, without fear. I guided the broken, mended what others couldn't see—pieces of souls, thoughts lost in grief, echoes of those left behind. But the world…" she sighed, her voice heavy with memory, "the world doesn't always welcome what it doesn't understand. Healing a body is noble. Healing a soul?" She gave a faint, sad smile. "To them, that was interference. Dangerous. Unnatural."
Vivia's eyes widened, and tears welled again, this time not just for Cassian—but for Avenya too.
"So they made you hide…" she whispered.
"They feared what it could lead to," Avenya replied. "And perhaps… some of them had reason. The soul is delicate. One misstep, one selfish intent, and you could destroy someone from the inside out. But I never used it for harm. Only to help."
Vivia stepped closer, wiping her face. "But if it's good… if you save people with it—why not fight for it?"
Avenya's gaze returned to her, soft and resolute. "Because sometimes… the quiet path is the one that saves more lives. I chose to disappear, not because I was weak, but because it let me keep doing what mattered."
Vivia swallowed hard. "And Cassian…?"
"He's whole again," Avenya assured her. "And I would do it again, no matter the cost."
Vivia fell to her knees, shoulders trembling. "Then thank you… not just for saving him… but for being brave enough to keep going, even when the world turned its back."
Avenya knelt beside her and placed a hand gently atop Vivia's.
"You carry a brave heart, Vivia. That's why your brother is alive. You saved him first."
And with the morning sun casting its first full glow upon the shrine, the mountain stood still—quietly holding the weight of two souls, slowly beginning to heal.
To be continued...