After a week in her dim, silent room, Alina finally stepped outside. The dull gray light of the Shadow Lands greeted her—not warmth, not wind, only the constant stillness that pressed on everything like a heavy shroud. As she emerged from the house, the eyes of those nearby slowly turned toward her.
The man who had quietly brought her food every day approached. He was her father's closest friend—tall and muscular, with a single curved horn rising from the center of his forehead. His name was Arlasan.
"You finally decided to come out?" he asked, his voice low but steady.
Alina nodded. "Thank you, Arlasan."
People began to gather, cautious but supportive. Devera, Arlasan's wife, stepped forward without hesitation and wrapped Alina in a firm embrace.
"I'm really happy you found your way back," she said softly.
In a place like this, people often broke under pressure. Some wandered into the dark mists and never returned. Others lost themselves inside their own minds, slowly twisting into something less than normal. That Alina had returned to herself was rare and precious. After a long moment, Devera released her.
"Would you like to come to the Temple and pray?"
The Temple was dedicated to the Goddess of Nature—an ironic beacon of hope in a world starved of sunlight, greenery, or warmth. They prayed for the golden fields and blue skies written about in the old texts—visions nobody had seen.
Alina shook her head. "I've prayed long enough without an answer. I want to join one of the expedition groups."
Devera's expression shifted instantly, surprise widening her eyes.
"Are you sure about this?" Arlasan asked, his voice more serious now.
Devera turned on him. "What are you saying? You should be stopping her!"
But Arlasan didn't flinch. "Alina trained under her father. She's not just a diviner—she's a warrior. A warrior chooses her own path."
Alina smiled faintly and nodded. "I'm sure."
"Then be ready for tomorrow," Arlasan said, and turned to leave, his heavy footsteps fading into the gloom.
Alina stood there alone under the ever-shadowed sky, her thoughts quiet but firm. It was time. Time to walk the path her father once did—and see where it would lead.
…
Like every other morning, Marco tightened the worn straps on his boots and stepped out into the village path, a wooden hoe slung over his shoulder. The golden morning light stretched over the misty hills, and the earthy scent of dew-soaked soil hung in the air. It was a peaceful scene—until he noticed a group of farmers gathered near the well, speaking in hushed, anxious tones.
Furrowing his brow, Marco changed course and approached them.
"What's going on?" he asked, scanning their worried faces.
One of the older farmers, Harlan, turned toward him. His lined face was tight with concern, and his straw hat was clutched nervously in his hands.
"It's Lamorik's boy. He's gone missing."
Marco's stomach sank. "What? When?"
"Last night," Harlan replied. "He went out to put a shovel back in the storage shed near their house… and never came back. Lamorik searched for hours. Nothing."
Marco knew Lamorik and his son well—they were neighbors, and he'd seen the boy running errands just yesterday. A quiet, kind kid. The thought of something happening to him was unsettling.
Just then, Carter strolled over, drawn by the tension. The young mage wore his usual dark cloak, faintly dusted with ash and herbs, and his eyes gleamed with curiosity.
"Is something wrong?" he asked.
Harlan repeated the story, and Carter's brow furrowed.
"That's awful," he said, pressing a hand to his chest. "I know a spell that can command small insects. I could use it to help with the search—see if they noticed anything."
There were a few murmurs of appreciation from the group, but Marco stayed silent, his gaze fixed on Carter.
That's the second disappearance in just under a month. And both times, it happened at night. Both times, there had been no trace—no struggle, no noise, just… vanishing. And both times, it was after Carter came to this village.
Marco narrowed his eyes. He hadn't voiced it yet, not even to himself, but unease had been building in him for weeks now. Carter claimed to be a mage studying the fields for any problem. But he was powerful. Too powerful to accuse without proof. If Marco was wrong, he'd be called a fool. If he was right… he could be in danger.
If something dark was happening, he needed evidence. Cold, irrefutable proof. Then he could quietly take it to the city guards in the nearest town, before more people vanished.
Before it was too late.
…
Liam lay sprawled on the packed dirt, gasping for breath. His lungs burned and every muscle in his body screamed from overuse. In the past few days, his brother had intensified their training—mercilessly. It wasn't just conjuration anymore. Swordplay had become just as central, and now the sessions focused on blending both arts into one fluid, deadly style.
"Stand up," Steve commanded, his voice calm but unyielding. "We're not done yet."
Liam gritted his teeth and forced his aching limbs to obey. He pressed a hand to the ground and pushed himself upright, swaying slightly as he reached for the wooden sword beside him. The blade looked unremarkable, but it bore a weight enchantment that made each swing a test of endurance.
He raised his left hand, and with a shimmer of black smoke, a creature emerged beside him—a shadowy wildcat with two long, twitching tails and gleaming amber eyes. His summon. Silent and sleek.
Liam pointed forward.
"Go."
The wildcat lunged, swift and low, but Steve met it without hesitation. One clean slash, and the creature vanished—only to erupt into ten dark crows that swirled around Steve like a storm, pecking and clawing, clouding his vision.
This was Liam's chance. He charged, gripping the heavy sword with both hands, teeth clenched against the weight. He swung hard—but just as he thought the blow would land, something massive struck him from the side.
Pain exploded through his ribs as he flew through the air and crashed into the dirt. Dazed, he looked up.
A towering beast now stood beside his brother. A lion's muscular body rippled with power, two majestic wings unfurled at its sides, and from its spine rose a long snake's tail, its eyes gleaming with venomous intelligence. A sphinx.
Liam pushed himself upright, coughing. "When… when did you have time to summon a sphinx?" he asked, incredulous.
Steve smiled. His tone was instructional, not mocking. "You used your crows to blind me—but they blinded you too. Your bond with your summoned creatures is too weak. If the link were stronger, you could've seen through their eyes. You would've seen me perform the summoning."
Liam clenched his fists. Steve's sphinx wasn't just a summon—it was his pact creature, the symbol of a permanent and powerful bond. Liam had tried many times to form such a pact himself, reaching out to creatures across the planes… but no answer came.
Steve gave a nod, and the sphinx dissolved into particles of silver dust.
"That's enough for tonight."
For a moment, Liam saw something flicker in his brother's expression—disappointment? But it passed quickly, buried under the usual stoic calm.
"Okay," Liam said softly, lowering his sword.
The truth pressed heavy on his chest. Without a pact creature, he'd always be a step behind. Always seen as the weak one. The failed one.
But then, he remembered Leo—what he'd seen him do, what he had achieved without relying on conventional methods. That fire sparked again in Liam's chest.
He straightened, breathing in the cool night air, sharp with the scent of dust and sweat.
"Tomorrow," he whispered to himself. "I'll try again."
He wasn't giving up. Not now. Not ever.
…
Leo was watching the three chosen through his Mirror of Truth, and now that he had their names and some understanding of their lives, he started to see how and where he could act. Alina, the elven girl, was in the Shadow Land, and even though that place was lifeless, cold, and without a sun to rise or wind to blow, she had chosen to step out from her grief and join the exploration parties that ventured into the unknown, which meant she would soon be facing danger, and danger was always the best moment to offer a hand and begin a connection.
Marco, the second one, lived in a small village that Leo believed to be somewhere in the Northern Kingdom, and although the village seemed peaceful at first glance, people had started going missing, and Leo had seen the way Marco's eyes narrowed when he looked at the outsider mage, and he felt that Marco would soon find himself in a position where help or guidance would matter, and if done right, that could also become a moment of trust.
Then there was Liam, the third, who was still training hard, trying to live up to the pressure of his family, while preparing for a tournament that might become a turning point in his life, but unlike the others, there was no clear threat around him yet, and the real challenge with Liam would be to find a way to give him the name and prayer without pushing him too far or too fast, because for someone like him, the moment had to be precise—real, personal, and meaningful—or it wouldn't work at all.
He had many things left to do, so much to plan and prepare, but his attention was pulled away when, through his Mirror of Truth, he saw one of the crew members entering his room. Moritz Horvath, a thin, medium-height young man of about twenty-two, with short black hair and sharp black eyes, whose features were ordinary but focused, and whose presence Leo had grown familiar with during the past days aboard the ship; from the conversations and glances shared, he now knew that Moritz was a C-minus ranked Assassin and also a Water Elementalist, which was interesting, because until recently Leo had always assumed the Assassin class belonged solely to the Shadow Path, but now he understood that there was another version—one that was its own combat-oriented path, much like Warrior, with its own progression and structure, not just a specialized branch of something else.
While inside his domain, he was always watching two visions with his Mirror of Truth, one of the person he was watching and one of his own sleeping body, and although both could have sound, he had intentionally muted the audio from his own vision, so he could fully concentrate on the other without being distracted, since listening to two sets of voices at once—his own surroundings and someone else's—was like trying to follow overlapping conversations in different languages, and in such delicate matters, clarity always mattered more than immersion. Without delay, Leo pulled himself out of his domain and opened his eyes to the real world once again.
"What is it, Moritz?" he asked casually.
"The island is in view," Moritz said, and there was a clear sense of excitement in his voice.
A smile found its way to Leo's lips as well—he was genuinely eager to see his first island from the deck of a ship, and without wasting time, he followed Moritz out to the deck and walked over to where Laid stood, right near the edge, the wind teasing the edges of his coat as the sea spread endlessly before them.
The island was massive, stretching out before them like a sleeping beast, made up of two tall mountains rising from the ocean and draped in dense green forests that covered almost everything between them like a living blanket.
Laid noticed the light in Leo's eyes and gave a knowing smirk.
"Is this your first time seeing an island?"
Leo nodded. "Yes. How long are we staying here?"
Laid shrugged. "That depends on a lot of things. We've already explored most of this island in past trips, but even just gathering supplies and having a bit of fun will take us two days, maybe a bit more."
"Fun?" Leo asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah," Laid said, grinning. "Like washing ourselves."
Leo gave himself a quick look, then leaned slightly forward and took a cautious sniff at himself. His expression twisted in disgust.
"Yeah, we definitely need that."
Life on the ship didn't offer many chances for a proper bath. They usually waited until they reached land, and now that they had, he was more than ready for it.
After a moment of silence, Leo looked at the others on deck, then turned back to Laid with a curious expression.
"One question—why are there only men in the crew?"
Laid raised an eyebrow. "What? You expecting a harem?"
Leo gave a half-smile. "Not really. But a few women wouldn't be weird, right?"
"There's no particular reason. That's just how it worked out. We didn't plan for it," Laid said with a shrug.
Leo nodded, not overly concerned, and turned his eyes back to the island, the possibilities it held already stirring his thoughts.