Elara Fors
The path to Borg Manor stretched ahead, worn flat by years of passing boots and carts, flanked on either side by the blackened remnants of what once was fertile land. Ash still clung to the edges of the fields like soot from an old wound that hadn't healed.
I sighed softly, my mind still weighed down by the smoldered fields and the helplessness they evoked. We'd done what we could for now, but how else could we help? Perhaps… perhaps we could put in a request at the Adventurers' Guild, look for a high-proficiency elven mage skilled in flower magic.
But no. Even if such a mage were found, the price would be high, no less than five hundred gold for something like this, if not more. That kind of money wasn't a concern for us, but for the Borgs?
I exhaled through my nose, glancing sidelong at Clara, walking silently beside me.
No, Lark wouldn't accept more help. His pride as a lord wouldn't allow it, not after today.
My shoulders dropped slightly. It was a heavy thing, watching people you care about drown in a river while refusing your hand.
But then, my eyes shifted sideways, falling on the small boy next to me, my grandson.
Sieg.
The only thing in this burning world that makes my heart feel light.
Just looking at him… sometimes it feels like all my worries are illusions, shadows easily scattered by the light he brings.
But suddenly he stopped walking.
His body stiffened, his visible eye wide, the green iris glinting like glass catching distant lightning.
"Sieg?" I called out.
He turned toward me, still wearing that strange look. It felt like he wasn't even seeing me, like his eyes were staring through me instead of at me. Then, without a word, he turned back again, slightly pivoting as if drawn by something.
I followed his gaze to the ground where he was staring.
Just an empty road. There was nothing there.
"Young lord?" one of Valka's knights called, voice cautious.
Still, no response.
"Sieg?" I stepped forward, one hand outstretched, but before I could touch him, he began walking, deliberate and slow, toward the fields on the right.
"Auntie… is something wrong?" Clara called out.
"Go ahead with James," I said without turning. "Take Lady Borg inside."
"But—" One of seven knights opened his mouth to speak.
"Now."
I looked over my shoulder just enough to see Clara nod reluctantly. The other knights beside her stepped forward protectively. Good.
Then I turned to the red-haired knight standing near us. "You. With me."
He offered a firm nod.
Then, something landed gently atop my head.
"Fua fua."
The sound was unmistakable. I looked up. The little creature curled into its usual perch, eyes half-lidded, tail flicking gently.
I turned back to my grandson. His pace hadn't quickened, nor had it faltered. He simply walked as if led by something unseen.
And that was what worried me.
Could this… be related to his eye? To the prophecy?
I swallowed that thought as I pressed forward.
The red-haired knight followed close behind as we trailed Sieg, careful not to make sudden sounds. He had stopped again, right at the edge of the blackened, ruined field. For a second, he just stood there, toes balanced at the charred threshold like a boy at the edge of a deep, black river.
Then, without warning, he stepped in.
His feet moved with surprising grace, careful not to sink too deeply into the cracked soil. This was the second field, near the destroyed homes, one of the topmost rows that had suffered the worst damage. We'd just poured our alchemical solution through it not long ago, but now he walked through it like something was calling him.
He reached the ridge between the second and third fields and stopped once more.
We halted too, the knight and I, saying nothing.
Sieg stood still… but something about the way he looked around felt off.
It wasn't alertness. It was uncertainty.
He looked… lost.
Like he had followed a song to the end of its final note, and now there was only silence.
"Sieg," I called out.
He turned slowly, blinking, as though only now remembering we existed. "Ah… Granny?"
Relief bloomed quietly in my chest. He was responding, at least.
I walked up to him, careful where I stepped. "Why did you run off like this?" I asked, kneeling slightly to meet his eye.
"I…" His brows furrowed. "I saw a light here."
A light?
Was he—?
Could he be seeing residual mana traces?
My hand came to rest gently on his shoulder. "What kind of light, Sieg?"
He hesitated.
Not out of fear… more like uncertainty. Like he didn't know how to put it into words.
"It was… green," he finally said, voice low. "It moved and… showed me the path here."
Sieg did his best to explain everything, his small hands gesturing as he spoke. He described how he saw the green trailing light, like a phantom snake, slithering through the air. The first time it had appeared to him was two years ago, a striking image he hadn't forgotten.
A green light... guiding him?
I felt the muscles in my jaw tighten.
It couldn't be residual traces, not the kind that linger faintly after a spell or a burst of mana. This was different. This was movement, purpose. The way he followed it, slow and quiet, as if entranced.
My first thought: his eye.
Even sealed behind that eyepatch, its magic drawn tight with layers of magical bindings, was it not enough? Was the seal weakening? Or worse, was the eye growing stronger?
But if that were true, if the eye had truly pulled him, then what had it shown him? What was it leading him to?
My gaze swept the ridge. The place where Sieg stood didn't look any different. Just brittle stalks, burned soil, the charred skeletons of once-green crops. Nothing unusual.
Nothing visible, not yet, at least.
I turned to the knight beside me. "Search this area thoroughly," I said, gesturing toward the ridge.
His eyes widened slightly. A quiet sigh slipped past his lips, and a weary look crossed his face. "Again," he muttered under his breath.
"Is there a problem?" I asked, brow raised.
He straightened, blinking as though the weight of command had returned to his shoulders. "There is none, my lady."
Satisfied, I turned back, only to find Sieg no longer standing.
He was crouched beside the ridge now, his eye narrowed in focus, his hands brushing gently over the scorched soil.
"Did you find something?" I asked, approaching.
"The light stopped right here," he said softly, not looking up. "Last time, at the end of the light, I found Faux. So this time, there should be something too."
The ash clung thickly to everything here, as if it didn't want to be disturbed. The soot was packed in dense, gray layers across the slope, enough to hide anything small. My thoughts aligned with his at once.
"Maybe we should clear it," I murmured.
Before I could move, Sieg pulled a small brush from the pocket of his magic pouch, the kind we used for delicate material cleaning in labs. The sight made my heart warm despite the unease.
I reached into my magic pouch, drawing my own brush. As I knelt beside him, I gave his shoulder a soft pat.
We didn't speak. Our hands moved in silence.
Ash curled into the air like wisps of forgotten breath. The bristles whispered across the surface. My fingers were soon stained gray, Sieg's too. But neither of us minded.
The knight watched quietly, no longer protesting. Faux remained perched on my head, unusually still, ears twitching every so often like he too was listening for something just beneath the surface.
Suddenly, the brush snagged against something.
Not stone. Not wood.
Just a faint impression, pressed into the earth as if whatever made it had passed lightly, silently.
We both leaned closer, cleaning it more.
Slowly, it took shape.
The print was clearer now: four elongated, fingerlike toes splayed in an arc, each one with a deep press at its tip, claws, perhaps. It was far too large to belong to any common animal, and the shape was wrong for anything human.
"Another one?" the knight asked, stepping forward and peering over my shoulder.
I glanced back sharply.
He straightened at once.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
The knight's eyes moved next to me. I followed his gaze and look at Sieg.
"Granny, we found more pawprints before."
Sieg explained how they found two more prints in the left-side farmland. "So, Granny, does the barony use magic beasts on their farms?" Sieg asked, voice hushed.
"I don't think so," I replied, narrowing my eyes.
Lark and Clara wouldn't allow something that unpredictable near the people, or the crops. So, a magic beast, passing through? Or worse, directed here? Was this deliberate? A controlled burn carried out by someone with a tamed creature? A beast tamer?
"Fua fua."
Faux suddenly leapt from my head, landing in the ash beside the print with a puff of gray. He sniffed the mark, little body tense, tail flicking once. Then he looked at us, nose pointed sharply to the right fields.
"Fua!"
Sieg's eye lit with realization. "He's saying he can follow the smell."
Faux's sudden display caught me completely off guard. To trace a scent in that ash-covered field, a place where all familiar odors should have been utterly suffocated by the grime, I genuinely hadn't thought he was capable of anything like that.
I stood, brushing soot from my skirt. "Then lead the way, little one."
Faux gave a satisfied nod, then darted off across the cracked ridge. Sieg moved to follow, and I glanced once at the knight; he nodded and fell in beside me.
We followed Faux as he padded ahead, nose to the earth, tail bobbing like a slow metronome. His movements were careful, almost reverent, as though each step was taken through a memory only he could smell.
The silence stretched, broken only by the soft crackle of ash beneath our boots and the occasional whistle of wind threading through the scorched fields.
Then we saw it. The eastern wall.
Blackened wood and splintered edges framed the jagged breach, a hole hastily patched with uneven wooden boards, like a wound stitched by unsteady hands. Two guards flanked the makeshift barrier, standing stiff despite the weariness on their faces. They straightened and bowed the moment they saw me.
Faux halted just short of the wall, nose twitching. He raised a paw and jabbed it toward the wooden patch.
"Fuuuaaa."
Sieg translated softly, "He's saying, it's coming from there."
I took a step closer, peering at the patchwork. The boards were old, weathered, and badly aligned. Whoever repaired it didn't expect anyone to look closely. Through the cracks, I could tell the breach wasn't wide. Barely large enough for a grown man to crawl through, if that.
Hmm... from what we've seen, it looks like the magic beast burned the fields, then broke through the wall to escape. That seems plausible enough. And if it was being controlled by a tamer, then perhaps he took it with him afterward.
My gaze lingered on the charred wood.
But that raises the real question: how did the beast get inside to begin with? A skilled beast tamer can summon their creatures from anywhere. Did he sneak in, summon them from within, and then slip away after the damage was done? Or worse, was he already among us?
"What do you make of it, Sieg?" I turned to him.
But he wasn't looking at the wall.
He was staring back, past the burned houses, past the scattered ruins, eyes focused somewhere distant, calculating.
I stepped beside him, following his gaze.
"What is it?" I asked.
He didn't turn. "This place, diagonally from where we found pawprints on left side…"
I squinted in the same direction. Charred furrows, the shadowy remnants of what had once been homes. Nothing unusual at first glance. But there was a line, however faint, of destruction that cut across the land at a slant, like the trail of a falling star.
"So?" I prompted.
"I believe the fire started at the far left field," Sieg murmured, "then the culprit burned diagonally across, hitting the fields, then the houses, and finally the wall. The last burst of fire spread naturally from there."
Before I could fully process it, the knight spoke, a note of recognition in his voice.
"The two houses, the flames started from the backs." His brow creased. "Wait, if the fire spread, then the houses were just collateral damage?"
Sieg nodded. "Seems that way."
I look at my little Sieg leading the conversation, seeing how much he has grown and gotten smart made me really happy.
"So, what's the final verdict, Sieg?"
He moved forward, his small frame radiating a quiet determination. "I believe the fire on the left didn't spread as fast," he explained, his voice gaining a confident cadence. "Only one or two fields were set ablaze on that side, which is why it didn't scorch everything. The wheat land is the proof, thriving untouched, and the flames themselves moved slowly. But on the right, that side was different. Almost every field was touched by fire. That's why nothing remains, just desolate earth."
It all clicked into place. Everything made sense. "And the path of the culprit," I added, the realization solidifying in my mind, "or the beast, it was a diagonal trajectory, leading right from the back of the burned houses."
Sieg nodded, a silent affirmation of our shared understanding.
The knight narrowed his eyes, thoughtful.
"Then the question is," he murmured, "whether it was all meticulously planned, or just a desperate attempt to spread chaos and fear."
I exhaled through my nose. There was only one way to find out.
My gaze drifted to the blackened eastern wall. It had been three days since the fire. Too late to catch whoever did this, perhaps, but not too late to uncover what they left behind.
I turned to the knight and Sieg.
"We need to head out. See for ourselves what's out there."
Both of them nodded. Sieg stepped forward, his voice steady. "Let's get going."
But I hesitated.
No matter how composed he looked, I couldn't take him along if there was even a sliver of danger.
I shifted my gaze to the knight.
"Take him back to the manor. Report everything we've discovered to Lord Borg. Ask him to gather an investigation squad."
The knight bowed slightly. "As you wish, my lady. But what about you?"
I looked at him, then back at the scorched wall, the wind tugging at my cloak.
"I'll scout ahead."
My voice left no room for argument, but I could feel Sieg's hesitation pressing at my back like a shadow that refused to leave.
I reached into my magic pouch and drew my staff. Gripping it tightly, I whispered under my breath, "Will of flame, grant me the strength to take the sky."
A pulse ignited beneath my feet, mana flaring in orange, and with a whoosh of heat, the spell lifted me upward in a swirl of embers.
"Wait, Granny! Me too!" Sieg called behind me, his voice urgent, reaching.
I looked down once, met his clear eye. "No," I said, my voice firm, unwavering. "Go back."
I didn't look again.
The flames carried me over and dropped me gently on the other side, where the ash met untamed green. The trees loomed not far ahead, dark and quiet. My boots crunched against scorched dirt, then softened on moss and fallen leaves.
I took my first step in.
With a movement of my fingers, another spell pulsed outward, mana detection. Threads of awareness spread from me like a ripple in still water. But the only thing I felt was the slow, idle drift of ambient mana, the kind that clung to the world like mist.
Nothing else. No residue. No trace.
Maybe we were wrong.
Still, I pressed on, heart slow, gaze sharp.
A few minutes passed in silence, broken only by the snap of twigs and the distant rustle of birds. I startled a horned boar grazing near a cluster of thick-rooted trees. It froze, snorted, then darted away. I didn't follow. It was not what I was looking for.
But something kept tugging me forward, intuition or instinct, I wasn't sure. I walked deeper.
The forest closed around me as I advanced, the branches whispering with every breeze. Then, a rustle. Leaves stirred unnaturally. Something moved.
A shape emerged from the undergrowth, low and slinking. It had a long, sinewy body covered in scale-like skin that shimmered red and gold, almost molten in the dappled light. Its tail curled with an odd, segmented twist. It crept forward silently, head low, eyes locked on me.
Ah, so that's what it was.
A Salamander.
That explained everything. Its fire wasn't magical; the fire it used was part of its biological constitution. The lack of mana traces now made perfect sense.
It hissed low, its eyes narrowed. Heat shimmered around its body as it crouched, predatory instinct kicking in.
But I was faster.
I raised my staff, the already prepared spell lit up, and a surge of flame burst from my staff, coiling through the air like a serpent. The fire struck the creature head-on, engulfing it.
Low-temperature flames wouldn't faze a Salamander. But overwhelming heat?
That was a different matter.
Before the beast could recover, I raised my staff again.
"Lance of the Crimson Pyre."
A column of flame spiraled above my head, condensing into a sharp lance. The salamander barely had time to look up. It rocketed downward, piercing the Salamander's flank and pinning it to the ground. The spell burst on impact, an inferno roaring outward in a wave of searing flame.
The forest trembled with the aftershock.
I exhaled, lowering my staff.
"That should be enough."
As the lingering smoke finally began to thin, a gasp caught in my throat. I couldn't believe my eyes. Shockingly, the salamander was still alive, covered in soot and ash. Its scales, once vibrant, were now dulled, but the only true damage was the gaping, piercing wound from the lance, blood steadily dripping onto the scorched earth.
Just how? This creature was barely my size, a child, by all accounts. That strike should have been enough to bring it down instantly. Then, the rustling of distant bushes broke the stunned silence. From both the left and right flanks of the wounded salamander, two more appeared, their scaled forms emerging from the undergrowth. A low, ominous hiss reached my ears, and I spotted another, perched menacingly on a high tree branch. Its maw unhinged, and a torrent of fire came sprawling out, a blazing river aimed directly at me.
Reacting on instinct, I slammed my staff into the ground and roared, "Barrier of Flames!" A shimmering wall of fire erupted around me, meeting the incoming inferno head-on, the two forces colliding and dissipating into steam. Without a moment's hesitation, I activated another spell. "The protection turns into offense. Fire bullets!" From the very heart of my fiery shield, three scorching projectiles shot forth. One found its mark on the perched salamander, striking the branch it clung to, sending the creature crashing to the ground. I dropped my barrier, eager for an unobstructed view of these unexpected monsters.
The fallen salamander scrambled to its feet, joining the other three. Their collective hissing intensified, a chilling chorus. And then, before my astonished eyes, their bodies began to shift, their scales rippling with changing colors, until they simply vanished?
What? How can that be? Salamanders weren't supposed to possess abilities like this, not even mature ones. This was beyond anything I knew.
A sudden volley of flames from different directions jolted me back from my bewildered thoughts. They were still here, unseen, circling me.
I reactivated my magic barrier, the clashing flames creating a maelstrom of heat and light. Simultaneously, I pushed my magic sensing to its absolute limits, flooding the area with my perception. But to my utter surprise, I couldn't detect them. They were attacking, yet they were utterly invisible to my most potent senses.
My gaze darted around, trying to pinpoint the source of the constant barrage, tracking the origin points of the incoming flames that crashed against my shield.
The situation was becoming far too dangerous, spiraling rapidly out of my control. This much reconnaissance was enough. It was time to pull back.
Pouring every ounce of my remaining mana into one final surge, I unleashed a spell. "Witness the rage of flames as they judge you: Burst!" A small-scale explosion erupted all around the area surrounding my barrier, a concussive wave of heat. A few trees groaned and toppled, instantly catching fire, but the relentless assault on my barrier finally ceased.
I lowered my shield, the heat receding, and surveyed the damage. The trees around me were now alight, nascent fires spreading outwards. Starting a forest fire was certainly not my intention, but in that moment, there had been no other choice.
Turning on my heel, I sprinted back towards the barony, pushing myself to my absolute fastest speed, the crackle of burning wood at my back.
As I ran through the underbrush, heart pounding and limbs stinging from exertion, a sudden shift in the air stopped me cold: a thick, suffocating gray smoke suddenly enveloped me. I inhaled, a metallic tang filling my nostrils. Ash? The forest had just begun burning; where could this come from? I tried pushing forward, squinting through the haze, but the next moment, I blinked, and the world had shifted. I was now surrounded by smoldering flames, their heat a searing kiss against my skin. It was hard to breathe, each inhale a struggle, but instead of screaming, ignoring the agony of the burns, I bit down on my lip hard enough to taste blood. I flooded myself with mana, cocooning myself in it.
Pouring mana into my feet, I pushed with all my might. A surge of adrenaline propelled me forward. The flames vanished behind me, and I tumbled onto the cool ground, gasping, my lungs burning, the sting of countless marks blossoming across my skin. My robe was smoking, the fabric singeing. I hastily ripped it off, tossing it back into the lingering heat. Wiping the heavy sweat from my brow, I scanned my surroundings, searching for the source of this ambush.
Then, they appeared. The colors on the trees around me shifted, revealing multiple salamanders clinging to the bark. Another ability. One I had never heard of them possessing.
If direct flames wouldn't work, then a pure mana-based spell must. I pointed my staff at a salamander, and an orb of concentrated mana began to coalesce at its tip. But before I could unleash it, something wrapped around my staff and pulled, hard, yanking it off target. I refused to let go, pulling back with equal force, and as I resisted, I noticed the thing wrapped around it was soft and squishy. I traced it back to its source: another salamander, clinging to a tree, the strange appendage its tongue? Now, I was starting to doubt whether these were even salamanders at all. I had never heard of creatures capable of this. I won't let go! I gritted out. "Oh Mana, respond—"
Before I could complete my spell, something small, yet terrifyingly strong, wrapped around my neck. The next second, I was jolted, pulled off my feet. I coughed, gasping for air, my hands instinctively flying to my throat, releasing my staff. Each breath became a desperate, burning effort, and as I clawed at the slimy appendage with both hands, nails digging in, but it didn't loosen. My breath faltered. My vision began to blur, the edges of the world darkening.
No, not like this.
My feet left the ground completely, the world spinning. Not good. I tried to channel flames into my hands, to burn the monstrous tongue away, but it held fast, unyielding.
The faces of my family flashed before my eyes, vivid and heartbreaking, as my vision went entirely blank.
Honey...
In the crushing darkness, a single streak of vibrant green pierced the void.
"GRANNY!"
My eyes snapped open. I was falling, plummeting towards the ground. As I hit, I looked up, and saw a face I had never expected to see there.
"Why are you here?" I barely managed to force the words past my bruised throat, my voice hoarse, as I stared at his incredibly tearful face.
I reached out, barely brushing his cheek.
Siegfried.