Medawa had served as the elder of her village for over two hundred years. She had inherited the role from her master—the previous elder—who had taught her everything she knew about divination. When he left this world, he gave her one final warning. She could still hear his voice clearly in her mind.
"Medawa, one day our village will be found—either by darkness or by light. When that day comes, you must discover which it is. And if it is darkness, you must destroy it immediately."
She had waited patiently for that day. And now, at last, they stood before her. Strangers from beyond the valley. One among them radiated something different. Today, she would uncover their secrets.
As she cast her spell, the world around her dimmed. Color bled away, replaced by shades of deep shadow. The spell twisted her vision, allowing her to peer past surface illusions into the soul of the one she focused on—the man standing calmly at the front.
Shapes began to form around him. Symbols, pulsing with raw energy, circled his body like orbiting runes. And then—out of his back—darkness emerged. A thick, ominous haze.
'The dark one?' she thought, heart quickening.
But before the thought could settle, a pale mist—soft and luminous—rose from him as well. Light and darkness, swirling side by side. Not in conflict… but in harmony.
'Light and darkness together? How can this be?'
Then, two enormous white eyes opened behind his back. They turned toward her, unblinking. The world shattered like glass around her, and she was no longer where she was. She stood alone in a gray void—featureless and cold. The eyes loomed, filling the sky.
"Mortal gaze does not reach me. And yet… you dared to look. " a voice thundered from every direction, shaking the air itself.
Sweat trickled down Medawa's forehead. Her breath caught in her throat.
"What are you?" she whispered.
From within the fog, a massive hand—white as smoke—formed and reached for her. It seized her with crushing pressure.
"Go… while I allow your existence to continue"
The spell shattered. Medawa collapsed to her knees, her robes damp with sweat.
"Elder!" the muscular elf and several others rushed to her side.
Leo still stood motionless. The air around him was calm, as if nothing had happened.
The elf leader surged to his feet, fury in his eyes. "What did you do to her?" he growled, hand reaching for his blade.
Medawa raised a trembling hand. "Stop."
With the help of the others, she slowly stood. "Let them in."
The leader blinked. "What?"
"It was my fault."
Her voice dropped to a whisper, barely audible. "You should not pry into a god's domain."
A nearby woman leaned closer. "What did you say?"
Medawa shook her head. "Nothing."
She turned and walked deeper into the village. The leader hesitated, then signaled for the guards to lower their weapons. The tension broke, but a strange weight still hung in the air.
No one heard Medawa's whispered words—except one.
Arthur stood still, his thoughts racing. The Creator's true identity… it was no longer just a mystery. It was a warning.
…
As they followed the elves deeper into the forest, Leo could feel Arthur's gaze on his back—silent and sharp, like a blade not yet drawn.
The village revealed itself gradually, hidden beneath an ancient canopy where the trees rose like living towers. Their trunks were broad and moss-draped, their roots weaving into the earth like the veins of the forest itself. From the outside, the village was invisible—shielded by the natural density of the woods and enchantments that bent light and sound away from it.
Within, the air felt different—warmer, quieter, touched by the breath of old magic. A narrow path of smooth, bark-like stone led between the trees. The entire village was suspended in harmony with the forest, as if grown rather than built. High in the branches above, dwellings clung to the trees like wooden petals, shaped from bark and living wood, their curves flowing with natural grace. Bridges made of woven vines and root-thread connected them, swaying slightly with every footstep, whispering in the wind.
Golden lanterns—handcrafted from crystalized sap—hung from the branches, casting soft light that flickered like fireflies. Intertwined with them were clusters of silk-glowing moths and luminous threads spun by forest silkworms, weaving strands of light through the treetops like stars caught in a web. The whole place shimmered with quiet reverence—less a village and more a living temple grown in secret from the heart of the woods.
Leo's eyes glowed with excitement as he took in the breathtaking scene around him. Arthur stepped up beside him, walking in silence for a few moments.
Just then, an elven girl approached. She looked young, but in this world, age couldn't be judged by appearance—factors like magic, races, and other things made it nearly impossible.
Her silver hair brushed her shoulders, and she was notably short—barely reaching Leo's chest. Leo had last measured himself at around one-eighty centimeters, making her height all the more noticeable. Her wide, curious blue eyes sparkled with energy, and the cheerful smile on her face reminded Leo of Elna in a way that tugged at something distant in his memory.
"Have you explored many places outside this forest?" she asked eagerly.
Leo tilted his head toward Arthur. "Our captain did." A subtle grin played on his lips as he deftly shifted the attention to Arthur.
The girl turned to him immediately. "Have you seen the giant man-eating fish? What about human cities—are they really as big as the stories say? And the Shadow Wall? Is it real?"
Arthur raised an eyebrow and frowned slightly. "That's a lot of questions."
"Sorry," she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I've never been outside. We're born here, grow up here, and… well, we don't leave."
Leo smirked. "Do you want to come with us?"
Arthur shot him a sharp look.
"Really?" the girl asked, eyes growing even wider as she turned to Arthur.
Arthur opened his mouth to say no—but something in her gaze gave him pause. After a long breath, he sighed. "Sure. Why not."
A gleeful shout burst from her lips. "Hooray! I'm going to tell my father!"
She darted off with light, bounding steps, running straight toward the muscular elven leader.
Leo raised an eyebrow. "That man is her father?"
Arthur gave him a sharp look. "What are you doing?"
Leo shrugged, feigning innocence. "What's the problem with having an elf on the ship?" He then put on an exaggerated expression of mock surprise. "Don't tell me, you've got something against other races?"
Arthur scowled. "That's not the—"
But he stopped mid-sentence, his eyes narrowing as he turned to look off into the trees.
"What is it?" Leo asked, following his gaze.
To their right, behind a veil of trees, a circular grove revealed itself. It was covered in dense greenery—vines coiled up trunks, flowers blooming in spirals along the undergrowth, and ancient roots crisscrossing the ground like a web. At the grove's center stood a strange formation. a small, tree-like structure with bark as pale as bone, its limbs curled around a hovering orb that pulsed with white and green light. The limbs resembled spider legs, clutching the orb as though protecting—or containing—it.
Leo stepped closer, his senses on high alert. He'd felt this before. The aura, the weight and the divine pressure.
"What is that?" he asked quietly.
The elven leader stepped forward. "It's a sacred relic. A gift from our goddess. Our people were charged with protecting it."
Leo's curiosity sharpened. "Can we see it up close?"
The leader hesitated, visibly conflicted, but before he could speak, the elder's voice rang out behind them.
"Let them see it," she said.
The leader gave a reluctant nod. The group—Leo, Arthur, the elder, the leader, and the elven girl—walked toward the grove while the rest of the party stayed behind.
As they drew near, Leo felt something stir within him. A tug or a pull. A call, almost imperceptible, but steady—drawing him toward the orb like a whisper in his head. When they reached twenty paces from it, the group came to a halt.
"It's overflowing with mana," Arthur murmured.
The elder stepped forward, her tone reverent. "This orb was given to our ancestors long ago, when they fled the Land of Shadow. It is said we must guard it… until the appointed time comes."
"The appointed time?" Leo echoed.
"Yes," she said. "That's all the old records say."
"Do you still have those records?" Leo asked.
"You may read them." The elder nodded.
Arthur then asked, "Do they speak of history from before four hundred years ago?"
"Not much," she replied, and began recounting the oral history of her people.
Midway through her words, something shifted. Her voice deepened into an unnatural bass, then blurred. Leo frowned and rubbed his ear. And then—he heard a voice. Faint, guttural and inhuman.
"Come to me."
He looked around sharply. No one else reacted. A minute passed. Then it came again, clearer.
"Release me."
Leo's eyes locked on the orb. The voice was coming from it.
He took a slow step forward, unaware of the others. Another voice came—closer, smoother, almost pleading.
"Release me."
His feet moved on their own. One step, then another. His hand lifted, reaching for the glowing sphere. The light pulsed brighter as if responding to his presence. Just as his fingertips were about to brush the surface, a strong hand caught his wrist.
Leo blinked, snapping out of the trance. The leader stood beside him, gripping his arm with suspicion and barely concealed alarm.
"What are you doing?" he asked sharply.
Beside him, the elven girl had drawn her bow, her expression no longer curious, but watchful.
"I… I don't know," Leo muttered, shaken. "It was like… something was calling me."
The leader's grip loosened, though his eyes didn't leave Leo's face. Leo stepped back, returning to Arthur's side. Both Arthur and the elder were watching him intently now, their gazes filled with quiet calculation.
After a few moments of heavy silence, the elder turned and began walking again.
"It's nightfall—and I'm too old to stand in the cold," she said, her voice weary but firm. "Come."
They followed her, retracing their steps through the grove and deeper into the village. The walk was quiet, the earlier tension still lingering like mist in the air. Eventually, they arrived at a towering tree whose massive trunk had been hollowed out to form a dwelling.
Leo and the others followed the elves inside. Wooden stairs spiraled upward along the interior of the tree, leading to several platforms nestled among its branches. Golden lights from hanging lanterns cast soft glows across the walls, illuminating the polished wood and woven leaf tapestries.
"You may rest here for the night," the elven leader said. "We will speak again in the morning."
One by one, the crew members were led away, each accompanied by an elf to a separate room. Leo was no exception. Only Arthur remained behind, lingering in the common hall, his arms crossed.
Leo paused and glanced back, realizing why—Arthur was likely staying behind to contact with the rest of the crew still stationed at the beach.
He was also certain that the old woman was the one who had interfered with Arthur's spell. And because no one here knew that heat could actually be seen, his spell had worked perfectly.
…
The next morning, Leo woke early, stretching off the stiffness from the night before. After a brief round of morning training—push-ups, footwork drills, and a few mana-flow exercises—he finished just as footsteps echoed outside the door.
Two elves stepped inside. Their armor was light and open in many places, revealing lean, defined muscles. Regardless of gender, they all seemed carved from the same disciplined life in the forest.
"Come with us," one of them said in ancient elvish. Leo could understand most of it, though the older dialect still took effort to follow.
He walked with them in silence, passing through several wooden hallways and climbing spiraling stairs until they reached a wide chamber higher up in the tree. The guards gestured for him to enter, then left without a word.
Inside, Leo found a large pool of gently steaming water. A curved branch overhead channeled water into the pool, which then exited through a carved drain on the opposite end. The soft scent of herbs hung in the air, and the sound of water was calm and constant.
As he took it all in, a man and a woman stepped forward. Both wore only minimal underclothes, their expressions neutral.
"You must cleanse yourself here before seeing the leader," the woman said.
Leo blinked, frowning slightly. The scene was oddly familiar—ritualistic bathing before meeting someone important. A sense of déjà vu crept over him, but he said nothing. Instead, he exhaled and moved toward the water.