Jean remained beneath the peach tree. His thoughts drifted like the stars above, heavy with the echo of his father's final words. The weight of his one-year lifespan pressed against his chest, a quiet sorrow that blurred the constellations. As dawn broke, he lifted his weary eyes to the eastern sea, where the first golden rays spilled across the waves, painting the horizon in hues of fire and amber. The fleeting beauty stirred a quiet awe within him, a reminder of life's fragile brilliance, so like his own, vivid, yet slipping away.
With effort, Jean rose to his feet. The peach tree's leaves rustled in the morning breeze, as if urging him onward. He cast a final glance at the estate's lacquered gates, then turned toward a narrow mountain path winding deeper into Silver Crest Mountain's forested slopes. The trail was overgrown, its stones moss-covered and slick with mist, but Jean pressed forward, driven by a need to visit the place where his father's memory lingered most vividly. Each step ached, his breath shallow, yet the thought of his father's gave him strength.
After an hour of laborious climbing, the path opened into a secluded clearing, where a humble hut stood, its thatched roof sagging under years of neglect. Beside it, a solitary tombstone rose from the earth, its surface etched with simple characters: Darian Long. Jean's throat tightened as he approached, his ink-black hair falling across his pale face. He bowed low, his voice a whisper thick with longing and sorrow. "Father, your son has come to visit." He lowered himself onto the hut's worn steps, his frail frame trembling from the effort, his eyes tracing the tombstone's weathered lines. The memory of his father's warm laughter, his steady hands refining pills in a blaze of emerald fire, felt both near and impossibly distant.
A sudden blur of movement snapped Jean from his reverie. Something darted from the hut's shadowed doorway, a flash of white too swift to track. Before he could react, a sharp tug yanked the jade pendant from around his neck, the cord snapping with a soft snap. Jean's heart sank, his hand flying to his chest where the pendant, his father's last gift, a smooth oval of green stone etched with a life like dragon had hung. "No!" he gasped, his voice cracking with panic. That pendant was his final tether to his father, the only keepsake that carried his memory. Anger and desperation surged, overriding his frailty as he struggled to his feet, eyes scanning the clearing.
The blur vanished into the forest, a fleeting glimpse of white fur weaving through the trees. Jean clenched his jaw, determination flaring in his eyes. "I won't lose it," he muttered, his voice resolute. He stumbled after the creature, his steps unsteady but unyielding, each one a defiance of his failing body. The path twisted upward, the air growing cooler as the forest thickened, mist curling like spirits around ancient trees. His breath came in ragged gasps, pain lancing through his chest, but the thought of losing his father's pendant drove him deeper into Silver Crest Mountain.
The trail grew faint, swallowed by undergrowth, until Jean's pursuit led him to the mouth of a shadowed cave, its entrance half-hidden by vines. The creature's white form flickered within, the jade pendant glinting in its grasp. Jean hesitated, his heart pounding, the darkness of the cave a stark contrast to the morning light. I have no choice, he thought, gripping the rocky edge for support. With a steadying breath, he stepped into the gloom, the air cool and damp against his skin.
The cave's twisting passages seemed endless, the faint drip of water echoing in the dark. Jean navigated by touch, his frail body trembling with exhaustion, the pendant's loss a wound that fueled his resolve. Hours seemed to pass, the darkness pressing against him, until a faint glow appeared ahead. He stumbled forward, emerging into a breathtaking valley hidden within the heart of Silver Crest Mountain. Verdant fields stretched before him, vibrant with herbs, some of which he had never seen before swaying in a gentle breeze. A crystal stream wound through the grass, catching the sunlight in a dance of silver. In the distance stood a simple stone house house, carved from a single missive boulder, exuding an air of quiet mystery.
Near the house, the thief sat—a small fox with pure white fur, its eyes glinting like twin moons. The jade pendant dangled from its tiny mouth, the green stone catching the light with an almost ethereal glow. Relief flooded Jean, mingling with determination as he took a cautious step forward, his voice soft but firm. "Give it back," he said, his frail frame tense, ready to chase again despite the cost to his body.
Before he could move closer, a figure stepped out of the house, his presence calm yet commanding. He was a handsome middle-aged man, his features unnaturally flawless, high cheekbones, eyes like polished jade, and hair the color of moonlight cascading past his shoulders. His pointed ears, sharp and delicate, marked him as something other than human. Jean's breath caught, his heart racing as realization dawned: an elf, one of the powerful races of the Nine Empires continent. The elf's gaze settled on Jean, calm but piercing, as if reading the very threads of his soul.
The fox scampered to the elf's side, dropping the pendant into his outstretched hand. The elf turned the stone over, "You've come far for this, young one," he said, his voice smooth as the stream's flow. "This pendant... Why do you chase it so fiercely?"
Jean straightened, his frail body trembling but his eyes alight with resolve. "It was my father's," he said, his voice steady despite the pain in his chest. "He gave it to me before he died. It's all I have left of him." The words carried the weight of three years of grief, of a fading life tethered to a fading memory.
The elf's gaze softened, a flicker of understanding crossing his flawless face. He stepped closer, examining Jean from head to toes.
"What is this place?" Jean asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes darting from the elf to the fox to the verdant fields.
The elf smiled faintly, his pointed ears twitching as he held the pendant out to Jean. "This valley is a hidden realm that should have been impossible to find." He cast a stern gaze at the white fox making it lower its head guiltily.
"My name is Sylvan," The elf turned his attention back to Jean. "What is your name young one"
"Jean Long," Jean replied with a smile, glad to have his pendant back.
Sylvan's gaze lingered, as if weighing Jean's name against some unseen truth. The white fox tilted its head, its eyes glinting with curiosity.
"Welcome to my home Jean" Master Sylvan said, his voice soft but resonant. "Will you join me for some tea?"
Jean followed the elf into the stone house still trying to process everything.