The forest before dawn was thick with damp mist. Ravenna crouched by the creek, whittling a strangely shaped piece of wood with her dagger. Her movements were deft and precise—each cut left behind a glowing blue rune on the surface. It was a little trick she'd picked up from the Thieves' Guild, a blend of street magic and basic rune crafting.
"You're making those useless little things again," Raine's voice came from behind, laced with the subtle teasing that only an elf could deliver.
Ravenna didn't even turn her head, but a faint smile tugged at her lips. "Useless little things? Who was it that slipped past the Horn City guards thanks to one of my 'useless little things'?"
She made the final cut and held up the piece of wood—it had become a finely crafted bird-shaped whistle, etched all over with softly glowing runes.
Raine sat beside her, cradling the sleeping baby in his arms. The morning light gilded his silver hair in gold. He eyed the whistle with curiosity. "What is it this time? Summoning birds? Or a gas bomb?"
"Vulgar," Ravenna rolled her eyes and tossed the whistle to him. "It's an alarm. If there's a surge of magical energy nearby, it'll emit a hum—one only we can hear." She paused, lowering her voice. "Especially… that kind of dark violet magic."
Raine's expression immediately grew serious. He examined the whistle carefully, his fingertips brushing over the glowing runes. "These aren't standard runes... I've never seen this structure before."
Ravenna suddenly stood up, brushing the dew-laced grass off her trousers. "Come on. While the little one's still asleep, we've got ground to cover." She deliberately turned away, busying herself with packing up their simple camp—avoiding his searching gaze.
But Raine knew her too well.
They'd grown up together in the shadows of Horn City—stealing moon-orange fruit from the orchards outside town, sharing a bottle of cheap wine in the Thieves' Guild attic. He recognized the subtle twitch of her right eyebrow—her tell whenever she was dodging a question.
"Ravenna," Raine's voice softened, "what kind of rune is it?"
She stood with her back to him, shoulders visibly tensed.
"…It's a fusion of alchemy and rune-craft," she said at last. "Taught by an old con man."
Raine didn't need to ask who.
Old Nick—the so-called three-hundred-year-old alchemist of the Thieves' Guild. Mysterious, possibly insane, and most likely far more powerful than he let on. No one ever confirmed his true age, but Ravenna had been his only acknowledged "apprentice."
"You know Nick wasn't just a con man," Raine said gently. "And you know… we shouldn't have secrets between us."
Ravenna spun around, eyes blazing with anger.
"Secrets? What about the life crystal glowing in your chest? Or the way you suddenly read ancient Elvish like it's your mother tongue? Or how you disappeared without a word?" Her voice was rising, sharp with emotion—until her gaze fell on the baby in Raine's arms.
The little one had stirred, rubbing his sleepy eyes. But instead of crying, he looked quietly between the two of them with those unnervingly wise golden eyes—then reached out and tugged at the edge of Ravenna's cloak.
That simple gesture was like ice water over fire.
Ravenna exhaled slowly, dropping to a crouch so she could meet the baby's eyes.
"…Sorry, little guy," she whispered. Then she looked up at Raine. "And I'm sorry to you too, old friend. This is just… all too insane."
Raine placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
"We've been through worse together," he said quietly. "We'll get through this too."
Ravenna locked eyes with him for a few seconds—then suddenly grinned, flashing that familiar sharp canine tooth.
"Yeah, well… without me, you'd have been locked in Horne City's dungeon a hundred times by now, you stiff bastard."
She stood and reached into her pouch, pulling out a small, ancient-looking box—her so-called graduation gift from Old Nick. Its surface was etched with runes remarkably similar to the ones that had appeared on Raine's arm.
"Old Nick said this was a 'Seventh Epoch relic,'" she said as she opened the box. Inside, five crystal vials rested snugly in place, each filled with a different color of shimmering liquid.
"Alchemy and magic hadn't split apart yet, back then. Each vial contains a principle of magic that's… long lost."
Raine drew a sharp breath. Even by a mage's standards, what he saw was priceless.
"You've had this the whole time? Even when we escaped the Guild?"
Ravenna shrugged.
"Old habits. I tend to snatch anything that looks important."
She pointed to a vial glowing faintly blue.
"This one's called Mirror Veil. It should hide us from all magical tracking for the next eight hours. Theoretically."
Raine raised an eyebrow.
"Theoretically?"
"Old Nick only managed to replicate about 37% of the original effect. And…" Her grin widened mischievously, "…it might turn our skin temporarily blue."
Raine shook his head with a sigh, but still took the vial and drank half before handing the rest to Ravenna. It was an unspoken rule between them—share everything, including the risk.
The potion tasted like mint laced with rust. Raine's tongue went numb almost instantly, and within seconds, a strange chill spread from his stomach to the rest of his body. He looked down at his hand—his skin was turning pale blue.
"Better results than expected," Ravenna remarked, examining her own now-blue skin. "At least we didn't grow scales this time."
The baby curiously poked her now-blue cheek and let out a delighted giggle. Strangely enough, his skin remained unchanged—still a soft, healthy pink.
"Looks like it doesn't affect him," Raine frowned. "Could that mean—"
"Shh!" Ravenna raised a finger sharply, scanning the woods with sudden tension. "Someone's coming."
In the distance, the crack of breaking branches echoed, followed by low voices. Raine's elven ears picked out at least three distinct tones—two human… and one dwarf?
Ravenna quickly gathered their things while Raine scooped up the baby, and the three of them silently slipped into a nearby thicket. Minutes later, a patrol of soldiers in strange armor appeared in view. Among them, one dwarf stood out—his armor was etched with glowing runes that shimmered faintly in the morning light.
"Runesmith Guard..." Ravenna whispered into Raine's ear. "The most elite of the Dwarven Royal Court. What's he doing here with humans?"
Raine's pupils narrowed. The Runesmith Guards reported directly to the Elder Council of the dwarves and never left the royal stronghold without cause. And from what he'd seen during his years on the run, their presence could mean only one thing—trouble.
"Search thoroughly!" the dwarf commander barked. "The Council wants the baby brought back alive. The others... kill on sight."
Ravenna and Raine exchanged a stunned glance. Since when did the Emberhold Court care about a human baby? Unless... they already knew the child's true identity.
The guards drew closer, one of them pushing aside the very bush that concealed them with the tip of his spear. At that exact moment, the baby suddenly sneezed—a small, innocent, and undeniably adorable sneeze.
But with that sneeze came a sudden gust of wind—violent and unexpected. Trees swayed fiercely, leaves whipped through the air, and the guards were forced to shield their eyes. Even stranger, the wind carried with it the echo of an ancient melody, faint but unmistakable. The guards froze, a dazed expression spreading across their faces as if some distant memory had been stirred.
"Now!" Ravenna seized the moment, grabbing Raine's arm and pulling him in the opposite direction.
They ran full tilt, not stopping until they were certain they had shaken their pursuers. Gasping for breath, Raine looked down at the baby in his arms—who was innocently sucking on his thumb, completely unaware of the chaos he had just caused.
"That was… wind sprite magic?" Raine asked uncertainly. "But even the elder wind sprites couldn't summon a storm like that with just a sneeze."
Ravenna, catching her breath as she leaned against a tree, said, "The more I see, the more I believe what the ancient tree told us… This little one is definitely not an ordinary human."
After a brief rest, they continued eastward. As the sun climbed higher, the effects of the potion began to wear off—though the blue tint faded, it was replaced by something even stranger: a translucent sheen. At times, their skin became semi-transparent, revealing veins and muscle underneath.
"This is the side effect you mentioned?" Raine stared at his translucent hand, a complicated expression on his face.
Ravenna gave an awkward laugh. "Uh... this is new. Old Nick would definitely be interested."
By midday, they reached a wide, open stretch of rolling hills. In the distance, the jagged outline of the Dragonspine Mountains was now clearly visible. By Raine's estimate, they were two days away from reaching dwarven territory.
"We need food," Ravenna said, rubbing her loudly growling stomach. "And clean water. That potion made my mouth feel like sandpaper."
Raine nodded. "You stay with the little one. I'll go hunt."
"Wait," Ravenna stopped him. "This time, I'll go. Your 'abilities' might turn everything you catch into bones." She winked. "Besides, I want to test the new alarm whistle."
Before Raine could object, she had already vanished into the brush, leaving the carved wooden bird whistle hanging from a nearby branch, softly glowing with a faint blue light.
With a sigh, Raine settled the baby down on a patch of soft grass. The little one was immediately distracted by a fluttering butterfly, wobbling to his feet and toddling after it. Raine smiled as he watched—until a sharp pain pierced his chest. The life crystal was heating up again.
He pulled it from under his shirt and saw that it was pulsing with a steady green glow—like a heartbeat. Even stranger, the baby seemed to feel it too. He stopped chasing the butterfly and turned to look at Raine, golden eyes wide and unblinking.
"You can feel it too, can't you?" Raine whispered.
The baby tilted his head, then suddenly did something that made Raine's blood run cold—he placed his small hand over his chest, then slowly opened his palm upward. A miniature image of the ancient tree, made entirely of light, appeared floating in his palm.
Raine's breath caught. It was an exact replica of the ancient tree from the cavern, down to the intricate runes etched on the trunk. The image lasted a few seconds before dissolving into tiny sparks that vanished into the air.
At that moment, the alarm whistle suddenly emitted a piercing buzz. Raine instantly became alert, scooping the baby into one arm while gripping the hilt of his sword with the other. But it wasn't the pursuers—it was Ravenna.
Her face was pale, and she was carrying a wild rabbit. Her clothes were stained with a dark red substance—not blood, but a glowing liquid.
"We need to leave immediately," she panted. "I found something about two miles west... a... a—"
"A what?" Raine pressed.
Terror flickered in Ravenna's eyes. "An Abyssal Rift. It's not just ordinary corruption—it's a growing spatial tear. Something is trying to come through from the other side."
Raine felt a chill run down his spine. "Something? What?"
"I don't know, but..." Ravenna held up the glowing liquid in her hand. "This is a 'sample' I collected from the edge of the rift. It corroded my water flask, but when it touched my skin... it merged into my body."
Only then did Raine notice the dark red markings slowly crawling across the back of Ravenna's right hand—runes similar in style to the ancient tree's, but pulsating with a sinister, living quality.
"Old Nick's box," Ravenna said urgently. "There should be a purple potion inside—"
Raine quickly rummaged through the box, found the purple vial, and handed it to her. Without hesitation, Ravenna drank the entire potion. She doubled over in pain, and after a few seconds, the dark red markings on the back of her hand stopped spreading but didn't completely disappear.
"It's temporarily stabilized," she wiped the cold sweat from her forehead. "But we need expert help. There's an alchemist sect among the dwarves who specialize in Abyssal substances."
Raine nodded seriously. "Then we have to hurry even more."
They quickly roasted the wild rabbit to fill their stomachs, then pressed on. As the sun sank, the Dragonspine Mountains appeared in the distance, glowing a rusty red in the sunset—like a sleeping giant dragon.
That night, they camped in a natural cave. The markings on Ravenna's hand emitted a faint red glow in the darkness, keeping her awake. Raine stayed by her side, softly recounting their childhood adventures to distract her.
"Remember when we were twelve?" Raine smiled, recalling. "You found some black bread a noble didn't want, and ended up getting accused by the baker's wife."
Ravenna gave a weak smile. "And you got stuck as a bakery slave for three days because of me."
"Yeah," Raine said seriously, "that was the first time I got close to soft, fragrant bread—too bad I never got a bite."
Ravenna suddenly grabbed his hand. "Raine, if… if I turn into that kind of monster, you have to promise me something."
"You won't."
"Promise me," she insisted, her dark eyes shining with an unusual light, "you'll end it yourself, the way we once agreed."
Raine's throat tightened. They had joked about granting mercy when one of them got corrupted by the Abyss—a painful kindness. He nodded slowly, "I promise, but you have to promise me you won't let that day come."
Ravenna gave a tired but genuine smile. "Deal, old friend."
Late at night, after Ravenna finally fell asleep, Raine quietly examined the markings on her hand. They seemed calm but were still slowly… growing? No, more accurately, adapting—like some kind of parasite searching for a way to coexist with its host.
The baby shifted in his sleep, waving his tiny hand unconsciously. Remarkably, the markings seemed to recoil at his movement, retreating for the moment.
Raine gazed at Ravenna and the baby, a surge of unprecedented determination rising in his heart. Whatever lay ahead, no matter how dark the Abyss, he would uncover the truth—even if it cost him his life.
On the eastern horizon, the first rays of dawn pierced the darkness. A new day was beginning, and their journey was far from over.