The world dissolved into a vortex of swirling starlight, a disorienting yet gentle current that pulled them across vast distances. For a moment, there was no ground, no sky, only the luminous energy of the Star Germ cocooning them. Then, as suddenly as it began, the light vanished.
The air that filled Zuzu's lungs was different. It was thick, sweet with the scent of blooming night-flowers and ancient, living wood. The light was softer, filtered through a canopy of leaves that shimmered with their own internal, silver-green luminescence. They stood in a clearing of moss-covered ground, beneath trees so massive they dwarfed any structure in Arcadia. They had arrived in Serenar, the mythical continent of the elves.
Rael glanced at the Star Germ in his hand; its light had dimmed to a soft, steady pulse. "The energy here is strong. It resonates with the artifact. We're in the right place."
Zuzu, still gripping her cracked glaive, could feel it too—a deep, humming power in the very earth that seemed to answer the faint thrum of the Star Germ. "Then we find the soul-menders," she said, her voice firm with a resolve forged in the fires of her recent victory.
---
The scene shifted violently, from the serene, magical glade of Serenar to the noisy, cramped, and frustrating reality of a diner in Arcadia.
Shiro's stomach growled in symphony with the grumbling of the man in line behind him. The scent of the last, freshly baked, golden-brown bun on the counter was a physical torment. He was so close he could almost taste it.
Then, a strange and sudden sensation washed over him, cold and unnerving. It was a subtle shift in the fabric of the world, a distant flicker of a familiar energy signature—Rael's—that flared for a moment and then faded, as if being drawn across an impossible distance. Where did he just go? Shiro thought, a frown creasing his brow.
His existential pondering was brutally interrupted by the diner owner. "That's the last one for the day, folks!" the man announced, pointing at the coveted bun.
A collective groan went up from the line. The little girl standing directly in front of Shiro, who had been vibrating with anticipation, let out a heart-wrenching, "Ahhh! Not again!"
The diner owner, a portly man with a kind but weary face, looked at Shiro. "Sorry, young man. Why not come back first thing tomorrow?"
Shiro's eye twitched. What kind of scam is this? I've been standing here for an hour! he screamed internally. Outwardly, he managed a strained smile. "I'll pay for the bun, please," he said, his voice tight.
The little girl looked up at him, her eyes wide with awe. "Wow, really?"
As the transaction was completed, Shiro took the warm bun and looked down at the child's hopeful face. A bizarre, unfamiliar impulse struck him. "You know what?" he said, his tone overly dramatic. "My stomach is killing me all of a sudden. I shouldn't eat this. Don't worry, kid, there's always a next time."
He handed her the bun.
The girl's eyes lit up like twin suns. "Yeah! There's always a next time!" she chirped, and before Shiro could process what was happening, she snatched the bun, spun on her heel, and bolted out of the diner like a tiny, sugar-fueled rocket.
Shiro stood frozen for a second, watching the door swing shut. "That's... what I just said. She's willing to let that go? Lucky me..." A slow, dawning horror spread across his face as his own hunger reasserted itself. "...Ahhh, dude...
"Ah, crap," he muttered.
Without another thought, driven by a mixture of embarrassment, hunger, and a desperate need to correct his mistake, Shiro turned and sprinted straight for the window. He didn't use the door. With a crash of shattering glass, he burst through onto the street outside, tucking into a roll and coming up in a crouch.
His moment of self-recrimination was shattered by the diner owner's roar. "YOUNG MAN! COME BACK HERE AND FIX THIS WINDOW!"
His eyes instantly locked onto the little girl, who was happily skipping away, the bun held triumphantly. He didn't hesitate. Pushing off with powerful legs, he launched himself onto the awning of a nearby shop, then onto the nearest rooftop, his movements a blur as he bounded from one tiled roof to another, closing the distance.
"Hey! Bring that back!" he yelled, landing on a roof just above her.
The girl kept running and looked up, a bite already taken from the bun. She didn't look scared, just mildly curious. "Wait, he's following me?" she mumbled through a full mouth. Then she shouted up at him, "Doesn't this guy know the innocence of a child is supposed to be protected?"
Shiro stared down, utterly flabbergasted. He was being morally lectured by the very person who had just benefitted from his inexplicable moment of weakness. The sheer, audacious irony of the situation left him speechless on the rooftop, a legendary warrior from another world, bested by a child and a bread roll.
She then threw the bread roll upwards in a high arc as she scrambled up a wall with surprising agility, climbing to the rooftops and continuing her escape. Shiro, snapping out of his stupor, gave chase, his powerful legs propelling him across the gaps between buildings with ease.
"Give me my—" he started to yell, but his demand was cut short as a piece of wooden siding flew toward his face. He swatted it aside with a grunt, his frustration mounting.
The girl slid across a slanted roof, executed a neat backflip that seemed impossibly acrobatic for a child, and grabbed a loose roof tile. Without breaking stride, she hurled it at Shiro with surprising force. He blocked it with his forearm, the tile shattering against his hardened skin.
"Just bring back my bread roll!" he roared, his patience wearing dangerously thin.
The little girl let out a dramatic scream. "Kyaaaaa! What is wrong with this guy?!"
In her theatrical distress, she tripped over a chimney stack, her feet flying out from under her. For a heart-stopping moment, she teetered on the edge of the roof.
Shiro's anger vanished, replaced by pure instinct. "Nooooo!" he shouted, launching himself into a desperate dive. He caught the wrapped bun with his teeth just as the girl managed to grab onto a gutter, saving herself.
The people in the street below, who had been watching the spectacle unfold, gasped and pointed.
"Wow, he's really going to heaven!" a child exclaimed.
"Magnificent flying, like an angel!" another added.
"Beautiful performance!" someone cheered, mistaking the life-and-death struggle for a piece of street theater.
Shiro, however, was not having a beautiful performance. His trajectory ruined by the catch, he tripped on the edge of the opposite roof and plummeted to the street below, landing in a tangled heap of ropes and laundry lines from a nearby vendor's cart. The dust settled to reveal him hanging upside down, suspended by his ankle from a tangled mess of cords.
Dazed, he shook his head and looked for the bread roll. His eyes widened. There, standing perfectly unharmed a few feet away, was the little girl, holding the retrieved bun. She slowly, deliberately, ripped the wrapper off.
"I finally understand why you went that far to chase me for this roll," she said with a sage nod, as if coming to a great philosophical conclusion.
Then, maintaining eye contact with the dangling warrior, she took a huge, triumphant bite.
"Yummy."
Shiro's face went through a visible transformation. A wave of pure, unadulterated rage made the veins in his neck and forehead pop out. He saw his chance at a meal, his dignity, and his sanity all being chewed up before his eyes. He closed his eyes, took a deep, shuddering breath, and forced his features into a smile so strained it looked painful.
"Do you mind telling me your name?" he asked, his voice eerily calm.
The girl swallowed. "Huh, now that's good stuff," she said, ignoring his question for a moment before answering. "I am Clorena, but you can call me Clowey."
"Well, Clowey," Shiro said, the forced smile still plastered on his face. "I'm gonna remember this for eternity."
"Nehh," she stuck her tongue out and began to walk away.
"Wait! Get me out of here!" he yelled after her, but she just waved without looking back.
The crowd of onlookers finally approached, staring at the strange man hanging from the laundry lines.
"Mom, is that the guy who was flying?" a small boy asked.
"Some people just wish for attention, son," the mother replied, shaking her head before ushering her child away.
As the crowd dispersed, leaving him alone and entangled, Shiro's face went completely blank. As the crowd in Arcadia dispersed, leaving a defeated Shiro dangling from a laundry line, the scene snapped back across the continent.
---
In the serene, moonlit glade of Serenar, the air, once filled with the hum of ancient magic, was now pierced by the silent, deadly tension of drawn bowstrings. From the shadows of the colossal trees, a circle of elven guards emerged. Their movements were fluid and utterly silent, their forms blending seamlessly with the forest until they had completely surrounded Rael and Zuzu. Each guard held a bow, the nocked arrows glinting with a sharp, magical light, all aimed unerringly at the two intruders.
Zuzu froze, her grip tightening on her cracked glaive. She slowly moved to adopt a defensive stance, but a sharp command from the lead guard, a tall elf with silver hair and eyes like chips of frost, stopped her.
"Do not," the elf said, his voice as cold and sharp as the arrowheads. "You have trespassed upon the sacred soil of Serenar. A transgression punishable by death."
Zuzu's mind raced, calculating the number of archers, the angles of fire. There was no clear path of escape.
Rael, however, let out a long, weary sigh that seemed profoundly out of place. He cast a sidelong glance at Zuzu, a look of pure exasperation on his face.
"Not again," he muttered, his voice a low grumble.
Then, with a theatrical slowness that made the lead guard narrow his eyes, Rael raised his hands in a universal gesture of surrender
Zuzu is shocked by the action rael did.