The mist hung thick around the forest, swallowing the campfire's glow until it was nothing more than a faint, trembling heart of light. The flames flickered quietly, painting their faces in shades of orange and shadow.
The woman sat cross-legged, her greenish pupils catching the faint shimmer of the fire. Across from her, the young man barely in his twenties, or so he claimed watched the flames with a faint look of distraction. The youngest among them sat motionless, his katana resting against his shoulder, his single uncovered eye reflecting the pale red of the coals.
For a long time, none of them spoke. The forest around them breathed in slow rhythm, the sound of unseen insects and distant water echoing through the fog. Then the woman broke the silence.
"So," she began, her voice quiet but clear, "I'm sure you both already know about conjurers."
The older of the two men raised an eyebrow, glancing briefly toward the younger one. "Of course," he replied casually.
The woman smiled faintly, leaning forward. "Of course you do. The younger one is a conjurer, Kai is a conjurer… and you" she pointed the tip of a half-eaten piece of roasted meat toward him, "you are too, right? Old man?"
The man froze. "Old man?" He looked genuinely offended. "I'm basically the same age as you and Kai!"
The woman tilted her head, giving him a long, unimpressed look. Her green eyes glowed faintly in the firelight. "Really? Because you look older than both of us combined."
The younger one remained silent, though the corner of his mouth twitched just barely like he was suppressing a smirk.
The supposed "old man" sighed, brushing some ash off his coat. "You've got a sharp tongue for someone eating my share of the meat."
"I hunt it. I eat it," she said flatly, shrugging.
He rolled his eyes. "Fine. So, are you going to tell us your grand secret lecture on conjurers or just keep calling me old?"
The woman smiled then calm, patient, a little sharp. "Fine. Listen carefully then."
She straightened, tossing a small twig into the fire. Sparks danced up, then faded into the mist. "Fire, water, earth, air these are the four pillars of creation. The elements that form the foundation of everything, from the world itself to the breath inside your chest. From them, the universe took shape."
The two men stayed quiet as she spoke.
"Humans learned to draw from these pillars to conjure the elements themselves. To command fire, move water, shape earth, and wield the air. But to do that," she continued, her voice deepening slightly, "you need more than knowledge. Because in the trial you are trying to steal the elements but before can. You must carry its affinity. Otherwise, boning with it will be difficult that is why conjurer are called thief by the world
Her tone lingered on the last word. "Thief."
The man smirked faintly. "Fitting title for Kai."
The younger one glanced at him, then back at the fire.
The woman ignored him. "Over time, conjurers created a path a way to understand their growth and measure their bond with the elements. These were the stages of conjuring. But during the First Conjurers' War, much of that knowledge was lost. Most people today only know the first three stages."
The man leaned forward slightly. "And those are?"
"The first," she said, "is Awakening. It's the moment a conjurer first feels the spark of their element. A trial that defines who they are and what power chooses them. Some awaken to flame, others to stone, some to the unseen shadows or storms. It depends entirely on the element that answers your call."
She paused, letting the fire pop once before continuing.
"The second is the Conjurer Stage. That's when you learn to control and manipulate the element itself to call fire at will, to move the ground beneath your feet, or to twist the wind into form."
The man nodded, leaning back. "So far, simple enough. And the third?"
She turned her eyes toward him, her expression unreadable. "The third stage… is Shaper."
The name hung in the air like a whisper carried by smoke.
"Shaper," he repeated slowly. "So, let me guess. That's when you can shape your element—make it take form, bend it, use it however you want."
The woman blinked once. Then twice. Then she looked at him from head to toe as though she were examining something strange under a lens.
"If it were that simple," she said softly, "then explain why there are people who can shape their element without ever reaching the third stage."
He frowned, opening his mouth to argue, but then stopped. There was nothing to say.
"Exactly," she said, leaning back again, satisfied. "So just listen."
The firelight caught her eyes again, making them gleam faintly like polished jade. "After the war, many of the old trials were destroyed or sealed away. The knowledge of how to ascend beyond the second stage vanished. The Awakening and Conjurer trials are still known you can find the remnants of those teachings if you search hard enough. But the third trial… that's another story."
Her gaze dropped slightly, almost wistful. "It was found once, you know. But no one dares to speak of where. That place…" She trailed off, shaking her head. "It's better left forgotten."
The younger one's voice broke the silence then, low and quiet. "You said each stage requires a trial."
The woman nodded. "Yes. To advance, you must pass through a trial one that tests not your strength, but your essence. For Awakening, you face the manifestation of your element. It's different for everyone. Some see storms, some see fire, others see something far worse."
She smiled faintly. "Whatever you face decides your affinity. And every trial after that brings you closer to understanding the truth of your element."
The man gave a half-hearted shrug. "We already know that part. We're conjurers too, remember? The only problem is no one knows how to reach the third trial anymore."
The woman's eyes flickered toward him, unimpressed. "Then let me finish before you interrupt again."
He held up his hands in mock surrender. "Fine, fine. Go on, oh great historian."
She ignored the sarcasm. "The third stage Shaper was not just about molding elements. It was about understanding the very will of the element itself. It's said that once you reach that stage, the line between you and the world begins to blur."
Her voice softened. "But no one has seen a true Shaper in decades."
For a moment, silence reclaimed the camp. The fire crackled softly, and mist drifted lazily across the forest floor.
Then, slowly, the woman exhaled. "That's why Kai entered the trial. The Labyrinth of the Dead Gods isn't just a ruin it's one of the ancient paths that still holds the remnants of a lost trials. He's searching for a Shard of Blasphemy… but in truth, he's also searching for the meaning of what we lost."
The man leaned closer, his curiosity growing again. "You said earlier that something odd happened during the Valeria War four years ago. What did you mean?"
The woman's expression changed then. Her teasing tone vanished, replaced by something quieter, colder.
"I meant exactly what I said," she murmured. "There were things about that war that shouldn't have been possible. Cities vanished without battle. Armies burned without flame. And conjurers—powerful ones—disappeared without leaving behind so much as a trace of ash."
The man frowned deeply. "You mean…"
She shook her head. "No one knows what truly happened. Even the records from other kingdom shows nothing. But there were whispers."
"Whispers of what?" the younger one asked.
The woman looked into the fire, her reflection flickering across the flames.
"Of something returning," she said softly. "Something that was never meant to be again."
The campfire hissed as a log split, sparks scattering upward into the mist.
The man stared at her, but she didn't continue. Instead, she leaned back, folding her arms. "That's enough for now," she said. "You wanted a story you got one. The rest can wait until Kai returns."
The younger one didn't respond. His single uncovered eye stared into the fog as if searching for something beyond the trees.
The older man sighed, tossing another twig into the fire. "You really know how to kill a good mood, you know that?"
The woman smirked faintly. "Mood is a luxury, old man."
He gave her a look. "Stop calling me that."
The mist rolled in thicker then, swallowing their laughter before it could escape. The forest seemed to breathe again slow, ancient, alive.
And far away, deep within the labyrinth, the sound of the ocean stirred faintly, as if answering an echo from another world.