In the depths of Mick Forest, among the fern clusters, Fa and Arya cautiously advanced along the remnants of fluorescent moss. Morning dew dripped from massive leaves, transforming into bead-like time echoes in Fa's vision—these were the magical resonances left by the forbidden zone's guardian array, with each droplet reflecting the magical flows of the past twenty-four hours in this place. Arya suddenly halted, her fingertips lightly brushing over the "Silence Seal" remnants on the tree trunk, where silver lines contracted and expanded at a barely perceptible rate.
"These patterns are breathing, like living things," she whispered, her elven keen senses allowing her to capture the subtlest magical fluctuations.
Fa reached out to touch the shallow claw marks on the bark, her memories suddenly pulled back to childhood. "Grandma Inya said the trees in Mick Forest record past joys and sorrows. As a kid, I always sneaked into the library's lower levels. Once, I accidentally got scratched by a prohibition array, and Grandma used her own feather dipped in laurel wine to stitch my wound."
Arya twitched her ear tips slightly, retying her magic pouch securely. "The Wing Clan's Feather Glow Healing Art is said to mend wounds of the soul." She gazed at the faint silver pattern below Fa's right eye. "No wonder you're so familiar with the library's defense arrays—it turns out the curator personally opened the passage for you."
Memories surged like a tide. Twelve-year-old Fa curled up beside the telescope on the library's top floor, her eyes bloodshot from overusing her Star Eye. Curator Inya wrapped her trembling body with wide feathered wings, her beak gently pecking at Fa's hairline. "Little Fa, did you know? The first Wing Clan baby to learn nest-building always mixes feathers into the branches, just like how you etched star patterns into your eyes."
"But they all say I'm a mongrel," young Fa picked at her palm, where scars from human children throwing stones still lingered. "Elves despise my impure bloodline, humans fear my eyes..."
Curator Inya suddenly spread her wings, hundreds of fluorescent feathers detaching from the shafts, forming dancing books and rotating star maps in the air. "See that?" She clawed open a floor seam, revealing densely packed star patterns beneath. "This is the 'Eternal Navigation Array' I spent ten years carving for you. Whenever you're scared, just follow the direction of the flying feathers—Grandma will hold up the warmest nest in the world at the end."
The scene shifted to a stormy midnight, fifteen-year-old Fa kneeling in the ruins of the "Broken String District," battered from protecting a bullied dwarf child. Curator Inya's eyes flashed red in the rain, her wings waving as the human youths wielding stones suddenly froze—they saw countless book pages turning into iron chains, binding their malice into cocoons.
"Don't use your Star Eye to predict their attack rhythms," the curator hugged Fa's shaking shoulders, pulling out honey-smeared bread from under her wings. "Remember, true strength isn't seeing through malice, but holding up a feather leaf for yourself amid malice." She pecked open Fa's clenched palm, sprinkling silver powder on the wound. "This is pollen from the World Tree; it will make your bloodline bloom with a glow that even elves envy."
"So Grandma Inya always hid the best laurel wine on the observatory's top floor," Fa touched her chest and smiled. "She said it was for my coming-of-age ceremony, but really, she feared I'd steal a sip and faint in the book piles."
Arya couldn't help but chuckle, summoning a few fluorescent mushrooms with her fingertips to light the path ahead. "No wonder the elders say the Wing Clan's maternal instinct is hidden in tattered feathers. I still remember the first time I saw the curator; she was cradling three injured little elves, but under her wings, she hid an apple pie for you."
Amid their laughter, the two passed through the last fern jungle, and the view opened up. At the foot of the distant mountain, several domed buildings inlaid with red iron and silver crystals were spewing steam, with sparks from the chimneys forming welcoming words in Dwarven script in the air—that was Silver Red Village's unique "Iron Fire Inscription," where each spark completed a letter's writing in its brief burn.
"Wait," Fa suddenly pulled Arya back, her Star Eye scanning the distant iron bridge. "The patterns on the bridge piers... that's the 'Star Rail Stabilization Curse' my father developed back then." She squatted down, her fingertips brushing the shallow right-eye pattern at the bridge base. "Grandma Inya said that before Father disappeared, he collaborated with dwarf blacksmiths to build defense arrays for Kro City."
Arya's magic pouch suddenly heated up, fragments of blue light illuminating the iron bridge railing. "The blacksmith shop at the bridgehead—is that the place your father mentioned?" She looked at the anticipation flickering in Fa's eyes and gently patted her shoulder. "Don't worry; the star patterns Grandma Inya carved on you can navigate even the World Tree's roots."
At the gates of Silver Red Village, dozens of self-forging mechanical anvils hammered rhythmically, emitting pleasant metallic chimes. As Fa stepped into the village, a warm wind carried a familiar faint laurel wine scent—that was the aroma of Grandma Inya's special exorcism potion. The tools on the walls suddenly buzzed, and several floating iron hammers arranged themselves in a welcoming formation.
Many muscular dwarves wore magnifying glasses embedded with crystals, their right ears adorned with mechanical earrings identical to Grandma Inya's, looking toward Fa's direction. The village's eldest blacksmith approached, leaning on a gem-inlaid iron hammer, his braided beard woven with glowing wires that flickered with his breath.
"It's been decades since other races came to the dwarf village," the old blacksmith's voice boomed like anvil strikes, steady and powerful. "The last time I saw a Wing Clan friend was that curator who always brought books."
Fa looked at these dwarves in surprise, pulling out a small iron box from her hand containing half a dry apple pie—the very snack Grandma Inya often stuffed her with. "Grandma said every adventurer needs a friend who can repair and forge," the old blacksmith pressed a red-hot hammer onto the anvil, sparks forming the shape of Fa's right eye. "Especially when her Star Rail Short Blade breaks its string..."
Arya asked the dwarf residents about the village chief's location, and the dwarves pointed to the largest building in the village—a domed hall cast from red iron and silver crystals, with a rotating mechanical windmill on the roof absorbing magical particles from the air.
Fa "recalled what Father said that day: when the Star Eye resonates with the anvil, the dwarves of Silver Red Village will forge a weapon for her that can harness the fragments." They could embed crystal cores into the short blade, with blue light and red iron instantly fusing into one. "But before that, you must first deal with the 'guard' at the village chief's door—it only recognizes the Wing Clan's Feather Glow Seal."
Fa touched the new feather-leaf pattern on her short blade, suddenly understanding why Grandma Inya always used feathers to mend her wounds. Those seemingly fragile feather glows were actually anvils forging bonds, hammering loneliness and doubt into unbreakable protection. And now, as Silver Red Village's iron fire illuminated her Star Eye, a familiar light flickered from a window on the library's top floor in the distance—that was Grandma Inya holding up an eternal nest for her from afar.
"Let's go," Fa sheathed the short blade at her waist, feeling the pulse resonance between the fragments and the anvil. "Grandma Inya said true adventure is never a solitary journey, but stepping out glowing footprints on unknown maps, carrying all the marks of love."
Arya nodded, looking at the iron fire amulet handed by the blacksmith—engraved with the Wing Clan's feather glow and the Elven Clan's laurel leaves. The morning wind passed through the blacksmith shop's skylight, lifting Fa's fringe and revealing the faint silver pattern below her right eye. That was the protection Grandma Inya carved over ten years, a bond more enduring than stars, and a blazing light guiding her to the next leg of the journey.
The Blacksmith's Trial
Outside Silver Red Village, Afternoon
Fa and Arya arrived at the village chief's residence, sunlight filtering through the village's floating mechanical anvils, casting mottled shadows. Two towering dwarf guards blocked their path, their armor inlaid with crystals that sparkled in the sun, showcasing the dwarves' exquisite craftsmanship. Fa took a deep breath, stepping forward, her Star Rail Short Blade at her waist battered from previous battles.
"We're here to see the village chief," Fa said, her voice laced with determination. "We need to repair a special weapon."
The guards exchanged a glance, and one tapped the ground lightly with an iron hammer, causing the crystals on their armor to hum and scan the magical auras of the two. Moments later, the guards stepped aside, and the heavy iron door slowly opened.
The village chief's dwelling was a grand stone-built structure, with a massive iron shield engraved with the dwarf clan emblem hanging at the entrance, covered in traces of time and iron fire tempering. Inside, the village chief sat at a huge wooden table piled with maps and scrolls. He looked up at Fa and Arya, a glint of curiosity in his eyes. The chief was short and sturdy, with a full beard, wearing a helmet embedded with red iron, exuding an aura of authority.
"I am Hils Silver Sk, and you must be the two adventurers seeking star fragments," the village chief said, his voice deep and forceful.
Fa nodded, unbuckling her Star Rail Short Blade and placing it gently on the table. "We need to repair this Star Rail Short Blade; it was damaged in previous battles. I heard only the dwarf craftsmen here are capable of such a task."
Silver Sk took the short blade, his rough fingers tracing the cracked runes on the blade, frowning slightly. "Star Rail Short Blade... this is indeed a rare weapon, a fusion of magic and technology. Repairing it is no easy feat; it requires perfectly merging a crystal core with the anvil—a highly complex technique." He paused, his gaze sweeping over Fa and Arya. "Only Master Tisk in the whole village can do it."
"Master Tisk?" Arya asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.
"Yes," Silver Sk replied. "He's the most skilled craftsman in our village, but his ideas are too avant-garde, always challenging traditional dwarf arts, so he's quite unsociable. He chooses to live in seclusion in the northwestern river valley region of the village."
Fa and Arya exchanged a glance, a silent understanding in their eyes. Fa said, "We're willing to find Master Tisk and request his help."
Silver Sk nodded, pulling out a yellowed map from a drawer and handing it to Fa. "This is the route map to Tisk's workshop. He has a quirky temper, but if you can convince him, his craftsmanship won't disappoint. Good luck."
Fa and Arya took the map, leaving Village Chief Silver Sk's residence, following the map's directions through Silver Red Village. On the village streets, dwarves busily hammered anvils, sparks flying, the air filled with the scent of metal and magic. They followed a winding path northwest along the river, walking for about two hours until they spotted a small hut hidden in the forest.
The hut's exterior was rustic yet filled with an eerie aura, with wisps of blue smoke rising from the chimney, surrounded by scattered metal parts and glowing magic crystals. A rotating mechanical windmill on the roof seemed to absorb ambient energy. Fa felt her Star Eye slightly heating up; the magical fluctuations here resonated subtly with her short blade.
They approached the hut and knocked gently. Moments later, the door creaked open, revealing a short but sturdy dwarf. He wore an oil-stained leather apron, a pair of goggles on his head, his eyes sharp and gleaming. His beard was disheveled across his chest, unable to hide his unruly demeanor.
"Who are you? What do you want?" Tisk's voice carried obvious impatience, his eyes scanning back and forth between Fa and Arya.
Fa stepped forward, trying to make her tone sincere and respectful. "We're here seeking your help. My Star Rail Short Blade is damaged, and the village chief said only you can repair it."
Tisk glanced at it, his eyes landing on the short blade at her waist. "Star Rail Short Blade? Hmph, an interesting gadget. Let me see it."
Fa handed him the short blade. Tisk took the weapon, removing his goggles to inspect the cracks and runes closely. He tsked, "Damaged thoroughly enough. Repairing it requires fusing a crystal core with iron and recalibrating the magic circuits. This isn't ordinary work."
"Can you help us?" Arya asked, her voice filled with anticipation.
Tisk was silent for a moment, then looked up, a spark of interest in his eyes. "I might consider it, but not for free. I don't like being disturbed, and I hate wasting time. You need to prove you're worthy of my help."
"What do we need to do?" Fa asked.
Tisk turned and picked up a list from his workbench, handing it to Fa. "I'm researching a new device and need rare materials. If you can fetch these for me, I'll repair your short blade." He paused, adding, "The first is Volcanic Crystal Stone from the northern volcano crater; the second is Frost Flower, growing at the river's source; the third is Thunder Feather, from the thunderbird's nest at the mountain peak."
Fa took the list, read it carefully, and nodded. "We're willing to accept this challenge."
Tisk hummed and turned back to his workbench. "These materials are all dangerous; don't say I didn't warn you. Come back when you have them."
Three Paths Journey: Molten Fire, Mirror Lake, and Thunder Peak
The northwestern river valley region of Silver Red Village was hidden in lush dense forests, with morning mist not yet fully dissipated, dew condensing on spiderwebs and refracting rainbow lights. Fa and Arya followed the map given by Tisk, treading ancient stone steps covered in moss, flanked by towering ancient trees whose branches intertwined to form a natural archway.
"This path seems unused for a long time," Arya said softly, her elven senses keenly capturing the flowing magical auras in the forest. The hem of her robe brushed over damp ferns, stirring up faint fluorescence.
Fa's Star Eye glowed faintly, scanning the surroundings. "The first location marked on the map is the northern volcano crater. Tisk's needed Volcanic Crystal Stone is there."
As they proceeded north, the sulfur scent in the air grew stronger. The temperature rose noticeably, with lush vegetation gradually replaced by heat-resistant dark red shrubs. In the distance, the outline of an active volcano loomed amid steaming heat, its summit constantly spewing gray smoke.
I. Molten Fire Trial: The Crimson Roar of the Volcano Crater
The scene at the volcano's base was awe-inspiring. Dark red lava flowed like the earth's veins through cracked rock seams, emitting a heart-pounding hum. Heat waves distorted the air, making the scenery appear as if viewed through rippling water.
Fa's fingertips gripping the map were scorched by the heat, her Star Eye shimmering in the high-temperature environment—a warning of magical resonance. "The magical fluctuations here are abnormal; some force is interfering with my vision."
Arya raised her hand to condense a water shield, enveloping them in a pale blue cooling barrier. Water droplets slid down the shield wall, evaporating into white mist upon hitting the scorching rocks. "Watch out for those moving lavas," she warned, her elven intuition sensing potential dangers.
Before her words faded, the right-side lava beach suddenly surged, dark red magma coalescing into three ferocious lava beasts. Their bodies were made of scorching magma, with sharp crystal fragments amid burning flames on the surface, and ominous red light leaping in their hollow eye sockets.
"Back off!" Arya shouted, instantly condensing five water arrows in her hand, precisely shooting toward the lava beasts' cores. The arrows collided with the blazing bodies, producing hissing sounds and generating thick steam that temporarily obscured vision.
Fa seized the opportunity to close in; though her Star Rail Short Blade was damaged, the tech runes on the edge still flickered. She nimbly dodged the lava beasts' swinging claws, the short blade plowing deep marks on the lava surfaces, temporarily slowing their movements.
"Their cores are in the chest!" Fa saw through the enemies' weaknesses with her Star Eye. "But there's some protective layer there; it needs a stronger attack to break through."
The two maneuvered amid lava flows, Arya continuously releasing ice spells to lower the surrounding temperature, creating attack opportunities for Fa. After an intense battle, they finally reached the volcano crater's edge.
Here, the rock walls were embedded with several prismatic Volcanic Crystal Stones, with liquid flames flowing inside, emitting strong magical fluctuations. The closer they got, the more violently Fa's short blade fragments at her waist vibrated, as if resonating with the crystals.
"Use your Star Eye to sense the resonance frequency," Arya reminded, while vigilantly watching the reforming lava beasts around.
Fa closed her eyes to focus, concentrating her consciousness on her right eye. When her Star Eye reopened, her fingertips glowed with golden light matching the crystals' frequency. Ignoring the burning pain, she grasped the crystal barehanded and forcibly extracted it from the rock wall.
The moment the crystal was in hand, the distant lava beasts let out unwilling roars, then dissolved into ordinary lava, slowly flowing into the cracks.
"Success," Fa gasped, placing the still-hot crystal into a special insulated container.
II. Mirror Lake Labyrinth: Crystal Blooms at the River Source
Leaving the volcano area, the two followed the map to the river's source—a Mirror Lake hidden deep in the dense forest.
This place contrasted sharply with the volcano's heat. The lake surface was like solidified emerald, calm without a ripple, perfectly mirroring the sky and ancient trees. The air carried cool water vapor and a floral scent, invigorating the spirit.
The Frost Flowers grew amid crystal clusters at the lake bottom, their petals semi-transparent, with fine light dust flowing through the veins, like stars fallen to earth. Even from the lakeshore, their soft halos were visible.
"What a beautiful place," Arya whispered in admiration, her elven nature drawing her close to such pure natural scenery.
Fa frowned, however: "It's too quiet; not even a bird chirp. My Star Eye detects strong magical fluctuations underwater."
As they stepped into the shallows to collect the Frost Flowers, the lake surface suddenly rippled unnaturally. The reflected scenery began to distort, and countless water elementals rose from the lake bottom. Their bodies condensed from clear lake water, with blurred human facial outlines, and sharp water blades extending from their fingertips.
"They are the guardians of Mirror Lake," Arya said lowly, noticing the lake-bottom crystal clusters flickering with the water elementals' movements.
Fa had a flash of insight: "These Frost Flowers and crystal clusters are symbiotic! We can't damage the crystals during attacks, or it might trigger a stronger backlash."
The two split up in tacit coordination. Arya used wind blades to guide water flows into vortices, dragging the water elementals toward the lake center; Fa dashed across the water surface, relying on her Star Eye's predictive ability to evade attacks. Whenever a water elemental lunged, she tapped the nearest crystal with her short blade's broken hilt. In the clear resonance, the water elementals' bodies briefly dispersed, buying them precious time.
Approaching the lake-bottom Frost Flowers, the largest water elemental lord rose from the depths. Its body wrapped in lake-bottom sediment, forming a giant serpent shape, with intelligent light flickering in its eyes—clearly different from ordinary water elementals.
"It seems to be protecting those flowers," Fa noted the water elemental lord's movement patterns. "Maybe we don't need to fight."
Arya nodded, retracting her attack stance and instead chanting an ancient elven prayer spell in Elven tongue. As her song echoed, gentle waves of light rippled across the lake, and the water elemental lord's movements gradually eased.
Fa seized the moment to display the recently obtained Volcanic Crystal Stone, pointing to the lake-bottom Frost Flowers and making an exchange gesture. Surprisingly, the water elemental lord seemed to understand her intent, slowly retreating and clearing a path.
Arya carefully dove into the water, using a special vine net to scoop the Frost Flower. The moment the petals touched her palm, they trembled lightly, as if confirming the visitor's goodwill. After collecting, the water elementals no longer obstructed, and the lake surface returned to mirror-like calm.
"Thank you for your understanding," Arya bowed to the water elemental lord, who slowly sank back into the depths and vanished.
III. Thunder Peak: Storm Breath of the Thunderbird Nest
The final journey pointed to the highest mountain peak. Here, clouds hung so low they were almost touchable, thunder booming constantly in thick cumulonimbus clouds. Each lightning strike left charred marks on the rocks, and the air was filled with the smell of ozone.
"I don't like this place," Fa wiped the rain from her face, her goggles constantly fogging from the moisture. "Lightning interferes with the Star Eye's operation."
Arya pointed to the highest rock at the summit: "The thunderbird's nest is right there."
Indeed, a massive bird nest woven from metal vines tempered by lightning stood at the peak, with the thunderbird's curled figure faintly visible inside. Its wings opened and closed, bursting with blue electric arcs, guarding two unhatched eggs whose shells flickered with dangerous electric light.
"We can't take its lightning strikes head-on," Fa panted against the mountain wall, rainwater seeping through her armor gaps, bringing a chilling sensation.
Arya looked up, observing the thunderbird's flight trajectory: "Before each dive, its tail feathers gather lightning first—that might be the weak point!"
Before her words ended, the thunderbird let out a sharp screech and dove down, its claws wrapped in lightning plowing deep furrows in the ground. Fa timed it perfectly, flinging a grappling hook toward the nest, swinging up the rock face on the strong wind stirred by the thunderbird; Arya disrupted the thunderbird's flight path with wind blades from below.
This chase was heart-pounding. The thunderbird was incredibly fast, each attack carrying destructive thunder power. Several times, lightning nearly grazed Fa's body, leaving her numb.
On the thunderbird's third dive, Fa grabbed the brightest feather on its tail—the Thunder Feather. Intense current instantly coursed through her body; she gritted her teeth to stay conscious, her grip on the feather unyielding.
The thunderbird cried out in pain and anger, turning to counterattack, but saw Arya enveloping the nest with the Frost Flower's faint light. The two thunderbird eggs swayed gently in the halo, and the thunderbird's hostility diminished by half.
Fa took the chance to store the feather in a special lead box, bowing in apology to the thunderbird: "We mean no offense; we take only one feather, for an important mission."
The thunderbird stared at them for a moment, then flapped its wings toward the clouds, leaving a long cry, as if tacitly approving this "plunder."