Morning mist draped over the Elven Forest like a thin veil, filtering the rising sunlight into a soft emerald glow. Raine sat on the thickest branch of the Mother Tree, leaning against its moss-covered trunk. Between the gaps in the bandages on his right hand, a faint golden-green light seeped out. Two weeks had passed since the brutal battle in the Obsidian Mountains, and only now had the chaos in his energy begun to stabilize.
"Useless gardener, your medicine."
Ravenna's voice arrived with a whoosh. Without looking up, Raine reached out and caught the flying crystal vial with precision. Inside was a purple-gold liquid, its surface dotted with tiny, gear-shaped petals.
"Gamma's new formula?" He pulled out the stopper and immediately winced at the sharp, sulfurous smell.
"An improved alchemical elixir." Ravenna leapt lightly onto the branch, the purple-gold patterns on her newly fitted leather armor glimmering faintly. "It contains Dwarven volcanic ore and Elven moonlight herbs—enough to temporarily stabilize your chaotic energy system." She tilted her head, examining the bandages on Raine. "The wound's split open again?"
Raine downed the potion in one gulp; it burned like swallowing a ball of fire. "The clash between the dragon-blood and the Seed of Life… every time I use my power, the balance…" He suddenly fell silent as Ravenna pulled back the bandages, her slender fingers pressing over the crystallized scar stretching from his wrist to elbow.
"The price of overexertion." A purple-gold aura shimmered in her palm, energy flowing into the wound like a gentle stream. "If it weren't for that old man Alfred's device activating in time, you'd already be the next Aurora Tower."
A crisp jingling sound came from beneath the tree. Gamma approached, staggering under a towering stack of books, her silver-blue cybernetic eye projecting a holographic interface that almost completely obscured her. On her head perched a fluffy mechanical squirrel, squeaking as it helped tidy her messy hair.
"Big Brother Raine! Sister Ravenna!" The girl waved excitedly, nearly toppling her pile of books. "I found records about the Weaver! In the surviving fragments of the Elven chronicle Emerald Annals!"
A hearty laugh rang out from the camp. "Little girl, finish your breakfast before diving into those moldy parchments! Dwarven-style rock-baked bread with Dragon's Breath chili sauce!"
Raine watched this lively scene, and the tricolor mark on his chest warmed slightly. Through the mark, the Mother Tree sent waves of comfort—he could sense the forest slowly healing. The areas once corrupted had sprouted strange, semi-mechanical plants, where metal and life coexisted in harmony, forming a new ecological balance.
"Let's go." He stood, but the branch wobbled under him. Ravenna's arm immediately wrapped around his waist, her purple-gold energy acting like a stabilizing brace.
"Useless as ever." Her words were sharp, but her grip tightened slightly.
The campfire in the center danced with orange-red flames. Ironbeard was using his warhammer as a frying pan to cook sausages, the sizzling fat spitting in the fire. Elondir sat on a tree stump maintaining his longbow, his white beard braided into intricate plaits. Nisseya tended a sapling of the Mother Tree—nurtured with her last reserves of emerald energy—and seven Elven druids took turns caring for it.
"About the Weaver," Gamma eagerly unfolded the book's holographic projection. "The texts say it was one of the original twelve ancient gods, presiding over the weaving of fate and time…"
A fuzzy image appeared in the hologram: twelve colossal figures of light stood around the continent, threads of glowing strands weaving into a vast net. One giant's silhouette was especially clear—its head was gear-shaped, and its twelve arms rotated with the precision of clock hands.
"The Council believes awakening it will reshape the laws of the world," Elondir sighed, "but they don't know the Weaver has already fallen."
Raine took the bread Ironbeard handed him, the warm aroma of roasted wheat stirring memories of his childhood as a wanderer. "Alfred said the Gear Moon is a sealing device. So the Council's real goal…"
"Is to release it." Nisseya's fingers lightly touched the sapling's tender leaves, emerald particles dancing at her fingertips. "But our intervention disrupted the ritual, and now the Weaver is trapped in an unstable slumber."
Ravenna smeared the chili sauce until the bread glowed red. "So that bunch of tin-headed jerks finally quieted down?"
"Temporarily." Gamma's cybernetic eye flickered with streams of data. "Energy scans indicate the Council is regrouping. Fishermen on the East Coast reported seeing black fleets gathering."
Ironbeard slammed his beer mug onto the wooden table. "Let them come! My new warhammer's been itching for action!"
Amid the cheerful chatter, Raine noticed the worry furrowing Nisseya's brow. He quietly activated his emerald sight and saw that the mark on the Elven girl's chest had dimmed slightly compared to yesterday—since being severed from the Mother Tree, her Guardian powers were slowly fading.
After breakfast, everyone busied themselves with their respective tasks. Gamma and Ironbeard studied new weapon designs, Elondir coached young elves in archery, and Ravenna was nowhere to be seen—she always needed solitude to sort her thoughts. Raine found Nisseya beside the Mother Tree sapling, practicing the ancient Elven sword dance.
"Your movements are much smoother than yesterday," he said, leaning against a nearby birch.
Nisseya's silver hair was almost translucent in the morning light. "Muscle memory recovers quickly, but energy circulation…" Her wrist trembled, and the emerald blade suddenly went out. "It's still unstable."
Raine pulled a small box carved from emerald from his pocket. "Alfred left this before he left. He said it could help us reconnect with the ley lines."
Inside lay two rings: one inlaid with a miniature Mother Tree fruit, the other a shard of the Aurora Tower crystal. When Nisseya put on the first ring, the sapling quivered, and new leaves unfolded visibly in moments.
"A resonator," she said, amazed at the flow of energy. "Even far from the Mother Tree, I can…"
"Maintain your Guardian duties." Raine placed the crystal ring on his left hand, and the silver-blue glow immediately resonated with the gold-green mark on his chest. "The old man said this could temporarily replicate the Aurora Tower's function."
They walked side by side toward the healing hot springs on the forest's east side. This postwar miracle had formed naturally—the convergence of ley line energy and Mother Tree sap juice created a turquoise pool with unique restorative properties for energy wounds. Along the way, Nisseya suddenly asked:
"Have you dreamed of it? The Weaver?"
Raine's steps faltered. Since returning from the Obsidian Mountains, he had been having the same dream each night: standing in an endless labyrinth of gears, each gear reflecting a different timeline, with a multi-limbed shadow always flickering around the corners.
"It's more than a dream," he admitted at last. "I can feel it trying to establish a mental connection. Through…" He unconsciously traced the mark on his chest with his finger. "This."
Amid the rising steam of the hot springs, Nisseya's expression was unusually serious. "I've dreamed of it too. But it didn't show destruction—it showed… some kind of twisted reshaping." She loosened her cloak, revealing a newly appeared gear-shaped tattoo on her back. "I discovered it this morning."
The tattoo was so precise it didn't resemble a magical mark—it looked like a piece of finely crafted machinery. The most unsettling part was that it slowly rotated, perfectly synchronized with the rhythm of the gears in Raine's dream.
"The Council's influence runs deeper than we imagined." Raine stepped into the spring; the emerald water immediately shimmered with gold-green flecks. "Alfred said the Weaver's corruption spreads through any connection of time and energy."
They soaked silently in the healing waters. The spring was indeed effective—Raine's crystallized arm wounds gradually softened, and Nisseya's tattoo slowed its rotation. But both of them understood this was only the surface. A deeper connection was forming, and they didn't yet know whether it was a curse—or…
"Hey! Finished your wounded-person meetup?" Ravenna's voice called from the treetops. She hung upside down from a branch, her purple-gold daggers flipping between her fingers. "Gamma found something amazing—you absolutely won't guess what it is."
The so-called "amazing thing" was a metallic cocoon nearly two meters tall, set up in a newly constructed alchemy workshop behind the camp. Gamma scanned the cocoon with various instruments, data streams cascading like waterfalls through her silver-blue cybernetic eye.
"I found it while clearing the battlefield remnants!" the girl said excitedly, spinning in circles. "The energy signature shows it's…"
"Silverbranch's escape pod." Ravenna revealed the secret with a flourish, tapping the cocoon with her dagger tip. "The Council's Seventh Seat has turned into a pupa. How ironic."
Raine's emerald sight pierced the metal shell, revealing the curled-up humanoid inside—the elegant, cold elf woman now entirely encased in liquid metal, as if consumed by her own creation.
"She's alive," Nisseya said, placing a hand on the cocoon, "but her consciousness is locked deep within."
Gamma displayed a set of brainwave charts. "It's some kind of forced hibernation. I'm trying to awaken her with the Aurora Tower's frequency—maybe we can extract Council intelligence…"
"Too dangerous," Elondir frowned. "High-ranking Council members' minds are mechanically augmented and may carry psychic viruses."
Ravenna, however, wore a sly grin. "That's why I installed Old Nick's mental firewall into Gamma's cybernetic eye." She tapped the girl's headband. "Double insurance."
By evening, Raine climbed alone to the top of the Mother Tree. From here he could overlook the entire Elven Forest—the east showed scorched battlefield scars, the west sprouted fresh green buds. Far in the distance, the Gear Moon had just risen; its surface cracks had widened slightly since yesterday.
"Knew you'd be here." Ravenna's voice came, carrying the distinctive ripple of purple-gold energy. "Here."
She tossed him a leather pouch containing amber-colored liquid. Raine took a sip, and the fiery taste made him cough—it wasn't Elven fruit wine at all, but Dwarven strong liquor: Dragon Throat.
"How's Gamma's progress?" he asked, wiping the alcohol from the corner of his mouth.
Ravenna sat beside him, legs dangling thousands of meters above the ground. "Initial connection established. Silverbranch's mental defenses are more complex than expected." She pointed to her temple. "Gamma glimpsed some memory fragments—the Council isn't limited to twelve seats. At the highest level, there are three [Primordial Councilors]."
Raine froze mid-sip. "The three prime gods from creation myth?"
"More likely the earliest beings corrupted by the Weaver," the purple-gold girl said, eyes fixed on the moon. "Interestingly, Silverbranch's memories contain a deliberately blurred scene—inside the Gear Moon is a massive hollow, and inside it lies…"
Her description sent chills down Raine's spine. It matched exactly the visions from his dreams: the multi-limbed shadow at the center of the gear labyrinth, guarding… a gate.
"Alfred was right," Raine whispered. "The Moon isn't a weapon—it's a prison. The Council isn't trying to release the Weaver, but what the Weaver sealed away."
Ravenna suddenly turned, cupping his face in her hands. The sudden intimacy stunned Raine—this purple-gold girl rarely revealed softness.
"Listen, you idiot," she said, her mechanical eye and human pupil locking onto his gaze. "Whatever's locked inside that broken moon, it's not your responsibility alone." Her fingers pressed almost painfully into his skin. "Stop playing at self-sacrifice, understand?"
Raine stared into the violet-gold flames dancing in her eyes and suddenly understood. He nodded slowly. Ravenna released his face, then as if by magic, pulled out two perfectly baked apple pies.
"Learned from Ironbeard," she said proudly, taking a bite. "Dwarven cooking isn't that hard."
They ate side by side, watching the sunset dye the cloud seas golden-red. In this brief moment of peace, there was no Council, no Weaver—only the rustling of Mother Tree leaves in the wind.
As night fell, Gamma's scream shattered the calm. Raine and Ravenna leapt instantly from the treetop toward the alchemy workshop. Bursting through the door, they found Silverbranch's metallic cocoon fully opened—and Gamma suspended midair by countless silver threads, her cybernetic eye flashing an ominous blood-red.
"It's not Silverbranch!" the girl struggled in pain. "It's… a trap… the Speaker is… waiting for you…"
Suddenly, all the threads snapped. As Gamma fell, Raine's emerald energy caught her, while Ravenna's dagger pressed against Silverbranch's throat—if it could still be called a throat.
The being emerging from the cocoon had Silverbranch's face, but from the neck down was liquid metal, now coalescing into the form of a Council white robe.
"Good evening, Watchers," her voice carried an eerie harmonic resonance. "The Speaker asked me to deliver a message: at the next eclipse, be sure to attend the final ceremony."
Her metallic fingers tapped Gamma's forehead, and the girl's cybernetic eye immediately returned to normal. "After all, without a key and a locksmith, how would the door open?"
Ravenna's dagger pierced the center of her brow—but it met no resistance, as if stabbing into water. "Silverbranch" smiled as she began to dissolve, eventually melting into a pool of silver liquid that seeped into the ground. Before the liquid vanished, its surface didn't reflect their image—it revealed the interior of the Gear Moon: twelve mechanical thrones encircling a vertical fissure at the center, three of the thrones occupied by indistinct humanoid shadows.
Gamma trembled, clutching Raine's sleeve. "Raine… I… I can see beyond the door… there's…"
Her words were drowned out by the sudden blaring alarms of the camp. Elondir's white robe glowed starkly in the night. "Scouts report! The black fleet on the east coast has set sail! Numbers… are overwhelming!"
Nisseya's chest mark flared with piercing green light. "No… it's not just the fleet…" She fell to her knees in agony. "The Mother Tree network is sending warnings… the Gear Moon… its fissures are expanding at an accelerated rate!"
Raine felt the tri-colored mark on his chest burn violently. The gear labyrinth from his dreams materialized clearly in his mind—and this time, he could read the inscription above the door at the maze's center:
[Here sleeps the Final Original Sin—Pride]