The forest was silent at night.
The scent of rain hung in the air, and the wind gently shook the loosened leaves like a fading flower.
The trees had melted into the darkness, and only in the far distance a pale, wavering light glimmered within the fog.
A lone hunter walked along the forest path.
A dagger in his hand, his shoulders damp, his eyes alert.
Suddenly, he stopped.
A shiver ran through his heart.
His gaze caught the light emerging from the shadows.
He moved cautiously. With every step, the soil crunched beneath his feet, and the wind whispered as if warning him.
The closer he came, the clearer the light grew.
And what he saw—
was an image that would remain with him for the rest of his life.
Suspended in the air, untouched by the ground, floated a newborn child.
A pale glow radiated from its body, each breath seeming to make the light flicker as if it were alive.
And in its tiny hand—though the muscles were still weak—gleamed a ring etched with strange symbols.
The infant's skin was warm, its breathing uneven—
it had only just entered this world, yet it illuminated the darkness around it.
The hunter froze.
His dagger slowly lowered.
Fear mixed with awe in his chest—
as if fate had led him here to witness this moment.
Then the light began to fade.
The pale mist thinned, and silence settled over the forest.
The baby's lips twitched—then it began to cry.
The stillness of the forest shattered.
The hunter hesitated for a moment, then dropped his dagger and rushed forward.
The child was slowly descending from the air. Before it could fall—
the hunter caught it in his arms.
The light vanished completely.
All that remained was the forest, the fog, and the soft cries of the newborn.
The hunter quietly looked around.
The wind blew gently—
as if whispering:
"He has awakened."