Mist still curled between the trees when Belerick awoke, his small body stiff from sleep on the moss. He blinked, eyes adjusting to the silver light that filtered through the canopy. His hair clung damply to his forehead, silver strands catching the dawn.
Lasara's calm voice reached him before his thoughts settled.
"You wake at last, little prince."
He turned, seeing her seated cross-legged with her staff across her lap. Even in stillness, she radiated an aura that made the very air seem to hush.
"Prince?" Belerick whispered, uncertain. The word felt strange after all that had happened—the fire, the screaming, the men in blackened armor.
"Yes," Lasara said, her violet eyes meeting his. "Estramma Silvers was your father, was he not? You need not speak it—I can see it in your hair, in your eyes. Silver, like the bloodline of the Moon. Few in this world bear such traits."
Belerick looked down at his hands. "Father… He's gone."
Lasara's tone softened, though her face remained composed. "Yes. But his light continues in you." She rose, graceful as flowing water. "And here, in Lumina, you will grow strong enough to carry it."
Before he could answer, movement stirred the treeline. Two slender figures stepped into the clearing, the forest seemingly parting to allow their entry.
"Priestess," said the girl in the green cloak, bowing lightly. Her voice was melodic, clear as bells. "You summoned us?"
"Yes," Lasara replied. "Come closer. This child is Belerick. He will be raised among us."
The other figure, robed in indigo, tilted his head, eyes bright with curiosity. "Human? In the heart of Lumina?"
"Not human alone," Lasara corrected. "He carries the Moon's Blessing. Look."
The two elves gazed at Belerick. The boy fidgeted, clutching at his knees under their intense stares.
"He really does," whispered the indigo-cloaked one. "Silver hair and eyes. Like the old songs say."
Lasara gestured between them. "Eleniel, Thalara—these are your names. From today, he will be as your brother. Guide him, teach him, and grow beside him."
Eleniel stepped forward, kneeling until she was eye-level with Belerick. She smiled gently. "I'm Eleniel. I've lived under these trees all my life. I'll show you the best places to climb, and where the sweetest fruit grows."
Belerick blinked, unsure, then whispered, "I… I'd like that."
Thalara crouched on his other side, grinning. "I'm Thalara. I'll teach you to run without making a sound. But only if you can keep up."
Despite himself, Belerick gave a small smile. Their warmth eased some of the heaviness in his chest.
Lasara's voice broke gently into the moment. "Friendship will keep you steady, but do not mistake kindness for weakness. This forest is beautiful, but it is also perilous. You must be strong enough to defend yourselves—and each other."
Eleniel and Thalara nodded. Belerick's fists clenched instinctively. "I don't want to be weak," he said, the words spilling out before he realized.
Lasara's expression softened into something almost like approval. "Good."
She led them toward the ring of chakra trees that encircled the great Tree of Luna. Each one glowed faintly with its color, but the first, pulsing with deep red light, seemed alive with the rhythm of a heartbeat.
"This is the Root Chakra Tree," Lasara explained. "It teaches strength, grounding, survival. Without it, no higher path can be stable." She motioned for them to kneel.
Belerick hesitated. "What do I do?"
"Place your palms upon the root," Eleniel said, showing him. "Close your eyes. Breathe. Listen."
Thalara smirked. "And try not to fall asleep. The first time I did it, I snored so loudly the squirrels ran away."
Eleniel elbowed him, but Belerick laughed softly—a thin sound, but real.
Following their guidance, he pressed his hands against the warm root. The moment he touched it, a pulse ran up his arms and into his chest, strong and steady like the beat of a drum. His eyes widened.
"I can… feel it," he whispered. "It's like… like the ground is alive."
"It is," Lasara said. "And so are you. Do not resist it—let it flow."
The warmth grew, spreading through him until he felt lighter, steadier. He opened his eyes, silver irises glowing faintly in the light of the tree.
Eleniel gasped. "He connected already? It took me weeks."
Thalara whistled low. "Prodigy."
Lasara's gaze lingered, unreadable, but her voice was calm. "Do not praise too soon. The path of chakras is endless. Even the greatest must begin humbly."
Still, there was no mistaking the subtle gleam in her eyes as she watched the boy.
For the rest of the morning, the three children practiced at the Root Tree, guided by Lasara's steady voice. They learned to breathe with the rhythm of the earth, to let their bodies mirror its steadiness. Belerick stumbled often, his small frame unused to the stillness required, but he always rose again, determined.
When the sun reached its height, Lasara finally called for rest. The children sprawled on the moss, panting, laughing softly.
"Your breathing was all wrong," Thalara teased. "You sounded like a boar with a sore throat."
Eleniel giggled. "Better than you—your stomach growled so loudly I thought the tree was angry."
Belerick chuckled, his first genuine laugh in days. "Then maybe we should feed the tree instead."
Their laughter echoed softly under the silver leaves, and for a moment, Belerick forgot the pain of his past.
Lasara watched from a distance, her staff resting against her shoulder. Her lips did not smile, but the forest itself seemed to glow brighter around her.
As the sun dipped lower, its golden light weaving through the silver canopy, the children returned with Lasara to the clearing beneath the Tree of Luna. The day's training left them tired, but their spirits were lifted by shared laughter and discovery.
Lasara raised her hand, and the forest seemed to stir in answer. A cluster of luminous fruit descended gently from the branches above, silver-gold spheres glowing faintly in the twilight. They floated into her waiting palms.
"Tonight, we eat the gifts of the forest," she said.
Thalara clapped his hands eagerly. "Moonfruit! My favorite."
"Everything is your favorite," Eleniel muttered, though her eyes gleamed with anticipation.
Lasara handed a fruit to Belerick. "Taste."
He bit into it cautiously. The skin was soft, and the inside was sweet, dripping with nectar that glowed faintly as it touched his tongue. His eyes widened. "It's… warm."
Eleniel laughed lightly. "It always is. Moonfruit grows with the forest's energy. Eating it fills your body with strength."
"Too much, though," Thalara added between gulps, "and you'll end up bouncing off trees all night. Trust me."
"Because you have no restraint," Eleniel shot back.
Belerick smiled, chewing slowly. For the first time since he had fled the burning palace, he felt warmth not just in his body, but in his heart.
After their meal, the three children sprawled on the moss, staring up at the shifting canopy. Fireflies emerged, glowing silver and blue, weaving patterns like constellations.
"Do you miss your old home?" Eleniel asked suddenly, her voice soft but steady.
Belerick turned his head, silver hair falling across his face. The question cut deeper than he expected. "I… I don't know," he whispered. "I don't remember much. Just… fire. Screaming. And then…" His words faltered.
Thalara sat up, serious for once. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."
"I want to be strong," Belerick said quietly. His small fists clenched. "Strong enough so no one can ever hurt me again."
Lasara's voice, calm but firm, came from behind them. "Strength without purpose is as dangerous as weakness." She stood at the base of the Tree of Luna, her staff glowing faintly in the deepening night. "You must decide what your strength will serve. Protection? Justice? Or ambition?"
Belerick met her gaze. "I don't know yet."
"Then learn," she said simply.
The forest grew quieter as night settled fully. The great Tree of Luna shone like a silver lantern, bathing the clearing in calm light. The smaller chakra trees glimmered faintly, their colors soft but steady, like stars at rest.
Lasara guided the children closer to the Tree of Luna. "Before you sleep, you will learn a chant. A simple one. It will attune you to the forest's rhythm."
She knelt, motioning for them to copy her. Together, the children pressed their palms against the moss, eyes closed, breathing in unison as Lasara spoke:
"Moon above, root below,
Light within, let it grow.
Chakra bound, spirit free,
Strength and will, flow through me."
The words resonated through the clearing, gentle yet powerful. The forest itself seemed to echo the chant, leaves rustling in harmony, streams murmuring deeper in the distance.
Belerick's chest swelled with warmth, his small body humming with quiet energy. He opened his eyes to see his silver hair glowing faintly in the moonlight, and for a moment, he thought he saw the Tree of Luna pulse with approval.
When the chant ended, Lasara rose. "Sleep now, children. Tomorrow begins again."
The three lay upon soft furs at the base of the tree, the air filled with the scent of silver blossoms. Thalara was the first to drift off, muttering something about chasing squirrels. Eleniel stayed awake a little longer, whispering softly to Belerick.
"We'll grow strong together," she said. "The three of us. I promise."
Belerick nodded, his silver eyes heavy with sleep. "Together."
Soon, his breathing steadied, and the boy who had lost everything only nights before slept peacefully for the first time in memory.
High above, Lasara stood watch, staff in hand, her violet eyes fixed on the moon. The light bathed her and the children, weaving its blessing quietly into their dreams.
And in the silence of the Forest of Lumina, the roots of destiny began to entwine around them all.
Night had settled fully upon the Forest of Lumina. The silvery glow of the twin moons drifted through the canopy, painting soft beams across the grand chambers of the Tree of Luna. Within a quiet chamber wrapped in woven vines and moonlight crystal, young Belerick slept soundly, his chest rising and falling in the deep rhythm of innocence.
Lasara, seated beside his bed, brushed a strand of his silver hair back and let out a faint sigh. Her eyes softened.
"He carries the blood of the moon," she whispered to herself. "But more than that… he carries something deeper."
Belerick stirred but did not wake. Instead, something subtle began to shift within him.
The room grew strangely quiet. The wind outside stilled. Even the usual hum of magic that resonated in the Tree of Luna seemed to fade, as though all of nature held its breath.
A faint glow began to seep from Belerick's chest. At first it was a pale silver shimmer, but then colors began to emerge—red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet—one after another, until seven radiant lights encircled his small body.
Lasara stood instantly, her hand tightening on her staff.
"This… this is impossible."
The seven lights rotated slowly around him like orbs, each one resonating with an ancient rhythm. Then, as though awakened by his very being, the orbs pulsed, releasing waves of energy. A low hum filled the room, vibrating deep in Lasara's chest, carrying with it the essence of every chakra path known in the world.
Belerick's tiny body arched slightly on the bed, but he did not wake. His breathing remained calm, even as his form absorbed the lights one by one.
First, the red glow of the Root entered him.
Then, the orange of the Sacral.
The yellow of the Solar Plexus.
The green of the Heart.
The blue of the Throat.
The indigo of the Mind.
The violet of the Crown.
And when the seventh sank into him, the chamber shook.
The Tree of Luna itself answered, its great trunk glowing faintly with runes unseen in centuries. A deep, melodic note echoed through the forest, waking countless elves from their slumber. They looked toward the Tree of Luna, bewildered by the sudden pulse of divine energy.
Lasara raised her staff, her silver eyes wide with awe and confusion.
"No child… no being… has ever been touched by all seven paths at once. And yet—" she turned her gaze to Belerick, who now radiated a calm silver aura, "—this child absorbs them as if they were his birthright."
Belerick's silver hair glimmered brighter in his sleep, and faint markings appeared across his arms—shapes resembling crescent moons woven into lines of energy. They faded after a moment, leaving only the serene image of a boy sleeping peacefully, as though nothing extraordinary had happened.
The lights vanished. The air stilled. The Tree of Luna dimmed again.
Lasara remained frozen, staring down at him, her breath unsteady. She finally sat back in her chair and whispered into the silence,
"Belerick Silvers… the world has yet to realize what it has given birth to."
And in his dreams, Belerick felt nothing but warmth, as though embraced by countless unseen hands guiding him toward a destiny he could not yet comprehend
The chamber returned to silence. The Tree of Luna ceased its hum. Outside, the forest continued its night as though nothing unusual had occurred.
Lasara lowered her staff, her heart still racing. She looked at Belerick, who lay sleeping peacefully, oblivious to what had transpired. No mark remained, no glow, no trace of the miracle she had witnessed.
She leaned closer, her voice barely audible.
"No one must know. Not yet."
Her hand brushed through his hair once more, tender and protective.
"Rest, little one. The path ahead will test you… but I will shield you until you can walk it yourself."
Lasara sat vigil the rest of the night, her gaze fixed on him, carrying within her the weight of a secret that could shake the world.
The dawn spilled soft light through the canopy of the Forest of Lumina, golden rays slipping past silver leaves and scattering across the Tree of Luna's vast halls. The enormous trunk, hollowed yet alive, thrummed faintly with magic that resonated in every corridor.
Belerick still slept soundly after the strange event of the night. His breathing was slow and peaceful, unaware of the secret that now weighed on Lasara's heart. She had not left his side until the first hint of light seeped into the chamber.
Finally, she rose, smoothing her robes of pale blue silk, her silver hair cascading like liquid starlight behind her. With deliberate calm, she pushed aside the drape of woven vines and stepped into the adjoining hall. Two attendants awaited her—elves clad in green and white, their heads bowed respectfully.
"My Lady," one greeted softly, "the council awaits your word on the human child."
Lasara inclined her head. "Summon the council. I will speak to them shortly. Until then, let no one disturb him."
The attendants bowed and departed swiftly.
In the chamber of branches—a wide circular hall where roots arched upward to form a dome of living wood—the elders of the elves were gathered. Seven in number, each radiated the grace of age and the aura of mastery.
Elder Thamior, tall and stern, spoke first. His green eyes narrowed as he addressed Lasara.
"You bring a human child into the Tree of Luna itself. Do you understand what whispers this will stir?"
Elder Maelwen, softer in voice but sharp in thought, added,
"We do not refuse those in need, Thamior. Yet the child carries the blood of another race. It is unusual, to say the least, that our Priestess would act so personally."
Lasara's expression remained serene, though her tone carried an edge of finality.
"He is under my protection. That is all the court needs to know. The child is an orphan of tragedy—he will have a place among us."
Another elder, Faelir, stroked his silver beard and leaned forward.
"His hair. His eyes. They are… elven."
A quiet murmur swept the council. Elves were cautious with words, but Lasara could hear the unease beneath them.
"Yes," she acknowledged. "That is why I have chosen him. His features are rare, even among our own kin. The Moon's light has touched him. That is sign enough for me."
Thamior's gaze hardened. "And when he grows? When humans come searching, or when his presence draws questions from beyond the forest? What then, Priestess?"
Lasara met his eyes calmly. "Then I will answer those questions. But until then, you will not interfere."
Her tone was calm but sharp enough to silence further protests. The elders exchanged glances. None would openly defy the High Priestess of the Moon Goddess.
Elder Maelwen bowed her head slightly. "So be it. May the Moon guide your choice, Lady Lasara."
Later, Lasara returned to Belerick's chamber. The child stirred as she entered, his silver eyes fluttering open, catching the soft rays of morning.
"Good morning," she said gently, kneeling at his side.
Belerick rubbed his eyes, still drowsy. "Morning…" His small voice was soft, but clear.
"Did you rest well?"
He nodded slowly, then looked up at her with a tilt of curiosity. "The bed… is soft. Softer than the blankets I had before."
Her lips curved faintly at his honesty. "That pleases me. You will sleep here from now on. This is your home now."
He blinked at her words, silent for a long moment, as if trying to decide if they were real. Finally, he whispered,
"…Home."
Lasara brushed his silver hair back from his forehead, her gaze lingering. You have no idea what you carry within you, she thought.
Aloud, she said, "Come. You must eat. And later, I will introduce you to some friends."
Belerick's face brightened faintly with curiosity.
In the great dining hall, the morning meal had been laid out—platters of fruit that shimmered faintly with magical essence, breads baked with moonlit herbs, and clear water that reflected the colors of dawn.
Belerick sat beside Lasara, quiet but observant. His small hands reached for a slice of pale golden fruit, and his eyes widened as he bit into it. Sweetness unlike anything he had known spread across his tongue.
Lasara watched, amused. "The fruits of Lumina are nourishing. You will grow strong eating them."
He nodded shyly, chewing thoughtfully.
One of the attendants leaned close to Lasara. "My Lady, the children of the household await your word. Shall they be introduced?"
She looked to Belerick. "Would you like to meet some new friends today?"
He hesitated only a moment, then nodded. "Yes."
Her hand rested lightly on his shoulder. "Good. They will help you learn of our ways. And you may teach them of yours."
When breakfast ended, Belerick was led away by attendants to prepare for the day's lessons. Lasara lingered behind, her composure flawless before her people, but once alone in her chamber she allowed herself a rare sigh.
She sat before the great moon-crystal, her staff laid across her knees, and closed her eyes. The image of the previous night replayed in her mind—the seven lights, circling, sinking into him.
Her whisper was barely audible.
"Seven chakras… all resonating in harmony. A miracle unseen since the dawn of Celera. Yet he is but a child."
She pressed her fingers against her lips, steadying herself.
"No one must know. Not even the elders. Not until the time is right."
Her gaze turned toward the chamber where Belerick now laughed faintly in the distance, preparing for the day like any ordinary boy.
"I will guard this secret, little one," she vowed softly. "With my life, if I must."