Siegfried Fors
I handed the skewers to James and Erina, the rich scent of sizzling meat still hanging in the evening air. The vendor had been generous with the seasoning, the charred surface glistening with juices.
"Be careful, it's hot," I warned as I passed them their portions.
Erina immediately began blowing on hers, eyes sparkling with anticipation, while James held his skewer with hesitant curiosity. He inspected it, almost as if making sure it wasn't some kind of trick, before taking a small, cautious bite. His expression shifted, just slightly. A subtle lift of his brow, the tiniest relaxing of his shoulders.
Not exactly excitement, but not rejection either. Progress.
The sky had begun turning shades of deep orange. The golden glow of lanterns flickered to life one by one, casting soft pools of light over the cobbled streets.
As we walked, I caught sight of Zayn further down the square. He was sitting with a rowdy group of adventurers, a wooden mug in hand, laughing wildly. He clinked his drink against another's with exaggerated enthusiasm before downing it in one go.
I decided to ignore him and continue forward.
We spent the next hour meandering through the festival, stopping at stalls, sampling different foods, and playing a few of the carnival-style games. James, to my quiet satisfaction, had started to open up—just a little. At first, he had been stiff, always standing just a little apart from us, as if hesitant to fully engage, but he was beginning to react to our jokes, sometimes even cracking a small smile, the way his eyes lit up when he managed to land a candy as prize at one of the games. A definite improvement.
As we made our way toward the town square, I noticed a man staring at us. He looked away as our eyes met. I guess I'm looking too dazzling today. Ignoring him, we continued and saw Grandpa and Granny at Great-Grandfather's statue. Mother was with them, her arms crossed, an unreadable expression on her face. Beside them stood three noble guests—Lord Borg, Lady Borg, and Lord Aland. They were speaking with Grandpa.
Grandpa noticed us approaching. "It's time for the Thanksgiving Prayer," he said.
James ran up to his mother.
The lively atmosphere of the festival seemed to dim just slightly as we turned toward the church.
The building stood at the heart of the town, a grand yet humble structure made of smooth, pale stone. Its entrance was adorned with carved marble pillars, depicting intertwined branches that symbolized the Aethelhum. Warm lanterns framed the arched doorway, giving the entire structure a welcoming glow.
Father Kaelen and several church attendants stood at the entrance, greeting each person as they arrived. The priest and nuns were dressed in robes embroidered with intricate patterns resembling vines and leaves.
We stepped inside, the cool air of the church contrasting with the warmth of the festival outside. The ceiling arched high above.
At the far end of the hall, where one might expect to see a grand cross in other faiths, stood a magnificent statue of a tree: Aethelhum, the Cosmic Tree.
Carved from gold itself, its form was graceful yet imposing, its massive trunk reaching all the way to the ceiling. The branches spread outward, detailed with intricate leaves, as if frozen in the middle of an eternal sway. Light from the high windows made the statue appear almost alive, its surface glimmering as though bathed in the sun's final rays.
I had learned the ritual from Grandpa before. I remembered.
We approached the great tree and placed our hands over our chests. Beside me, Erina followed suit. James, on the other hand, hesitated. His gaze flickered between us, his brows trembled ever so slightly before he slowly copied the gesture, albeit with careful uncertainty.
A brief moment of silence fell over the hall. Then, in unison, we spoke the sacred words:
"Aethelhum, First Root, Endless Crown,
From void you rose, from silence you sang.
In your shade we breathe, in your fruit we live,
By your roots we return, by your boughs we ascend."
The words echoed softly through the chamber before fading into reverent quiet.
As the ritual ended, the adults began murmuring among themselves. Grandfather, Lord Borg, and Lord Aland stepped aside to speak with Father Kaelen, their voices hushed yet serious.
I glanced at Mother, who had remained silent throughout the prayer. As the others conversed, she let out a quiet breath, as if barely restraining impatience.
"Can I leave now?" she asked, her tone even but clipped.
Grandmother turned to her with a firm but calm expression, lips pressed into a thin line. "There's one more thing we need to do."
At those words, something flickered in Mother's eyes. She turned her gaze away, her fingers curling slightly, her jaw tightening.
"Why do we do this every year?" she muttered. "It won't bring anyone back..." Her voice was laced with bitterness.
A heavy silence followed.
Grandmother's usual sharp reprimand didn't come. Instead, she simply looked at Mother with a tired yet understanding expression. It was as if—for once—she didn't have the heart to argue.
I frowned, glancing between them. "Is something wrong?"
Grandmother's smile returned, warm but evasive. "It's nothing to worry about, dear. You and the others can go ahead."
I wasn't convinced, but before I could press further, Erina suddenly brightened.
"The fire performance is about to start!" she announced, her excitement cutting through the lingering tension.
Ah, right. There was that too.
I turned back to the others. "We'll head to the park, then."
The adults nodded, their focus already shifting elsewhere.
"Be careful," Grandpa reminded.
"We will," I assured him.
And with that, we left the church.
As we made our way through the bustling streets of the town, Erina practically bounced with excitement. She was barely walking at this point, more like skipping, her hair swaying with each energetic step.
"Last year's fire performance was amazing!" she gushed, her hands waving animatedly as she spoke. "There were these HUGE bursts of fire, and the flames danced like they were alive! And then, boom! The final explosion lit up the whole sky!"
She spun around to face us, her eyes practically glowing. "After I awaken, I think I wanna be a fire mage too!"
I smiled at her enthusiasm. "A fire mage, huh?"
"Yup! Fire mages are the coolest! And their magic looks amazing!" She then turned to me, her expression eager. "Lord Sieg, you're just one step away from unlocking your elements now! What kind of mage do you wanna be?"
I blinked at her question. It wasn't something I had given much thought to; I already knew the answer.
"I'm a Fors," I said simply. "So, I'll be using the Force element."
Erina tilted her head, considering my response before nodding as if it made perfect sense. "Yes, that does sound like Lord Sieg," she agreed.
Then, without missing a beat, she turned toward James.
"And what about Lord James?"
James, who had been quietly listening up until now, froze at the sudden attention. His eyes widened, and he fiddled with his fingers nervously.
"I... um..." He stammered, clearly caught off guard. His gaze dropped to the ground, and for a moment, it looked like he might try to avoid answering altogether. But then, after a deep breath, he murmured, "I... I would like to be a water mage."
His voice was soft but steady.
I glanced at him curiously. "Why water?" I asked. "Is there a reason?"
James hesitated again, but then, slowly, he lifted his gaze.
"Sometimes... when there's no rain, the crops don't grow well," he said, his small hands tightening into fists. "The harvest gets affected… and people suffer." He took a deep breath before continuing, "If I become a water mage, I could help. I could make sure that doesn't happen."
I stopped walking for a moment.
James was four years old.
Just. Four.
And yet, he was already thinking about the well-being of the barony, about helping the people who lived under his father's rule. There was no selfish ambition, just a pure, simple desire to help.
I found myself staring at him in quiet admiration.
I reached out slowly, placing a hand on top of his head.
"You're a good kid, James," I said with a smile.
James blinked up at me, startled. His cheeks turned slightly pink as he fumbled for a response.
"N-No… I… that's not…" He stuttered, looking completely flustered.
Before he could say anything else, Erina suddenly jumped forward.
"No fair!" she huffed, grabbing my wrist and forcefully placing my hand on her head instead.
"Me too," she demanded, puffing her cheeks in an exaggerated pout.
I let out a small chuckle.
"Right, right," I said, shaking my head in amusement as I ruffled her hair. "You too."
As I did, I heard voices from nearby.
"They'll be starting the Battle of Flames soon!"
"We should hurry up!"
I turned to Erina and James. "Sounds like we should get going too."
Erina's eyes lit up, and she immediately bolted forward. "Let's go, let's go!" she called over her shoulder.
James nodded, just a small nod, but his pace quickened as he followed behind.
I trailed after them, watching the two of them with a quiet smile.
The cool evening breeze carried the lingering scent of festival food and burning torches. Lanterns glowed like stars along the streets, and the distant sound of laughter and music filled the air.
Since coming to this world, there has been one thing after another, but life had been... full.
New experiences, new emotions, new people.
And it wasn't just the excitement of the festival.
Tomorrow, I would finally begin learning how to use my newly awakened Soul Crucible under Zayn's guidance. I would learn how to manipulate mana, to take my first true steps into the world of magic.
I tried to remember the last time I had felt this kind of anticipation, this genuine excitement about something.
I clenched my fists slightly, feeling the steady pulse of mana within my head.
Erina's excited voice rang out, animated and full of life. James listened quietly, a rare smile tugging at his lips.
I exhaled, feeling at peace.
Before I could continue, a cold pressure slammed against my mouth.
A heartbeat passed before my body understood. A thick, suffocating cloth smothered my breath, pressing against my skin with unyielding force. A scent, sweet, cloying, wrong, burned through my nostrils, coiling into my lungs.
My body jolted, instincts flaring, but before I could react, something tight coiled around my torso like a constricting serpent. A rough, unyielding force yanked me backward, my boots skidding against the cobblestone.
"Lord Sieg?"
Erina's voice, sharp with confusion.
No, no, no, no.
I thrashed, but my muscles betrayed me. A strange, sickening weakness crept through my limbs. My pulse pounded against my skull, every beat slower than the last.
"What's he doing?"
"Is that the Young Lord—?"
Blurred voices. Concerned murmurs.
My feet left the ground.
I was being dragged. No, swooped. Into the shadows, into the waiting maw of the alley.
Erina. James.
I reached, but couldn't.
The voices distorted. The world twisted.
A sickening pull, like being swallowed whole, consumed me.
A hungry void opened.
And then—
Black.