Snowfell Ridge was silent.
Too silent.
The wind that whipped past Aren's ears carried no echoes, no beastly cries, no sign of the Valkarens that had chased them mercilessly moments ago. Only the crunch of boots on snow broke the stillness—belonging to the tall elf leading them deeper along the narrow path.
Aren kept his hand near his dagger. Snowfang stayed pressed to his side, hackles raised. Lyrin was on Aren's other side, still shaken, but keeping pace.
The elf didn't look back.
Not even once.
Their steps were steady, confident, unhurried—like someone who knew the mountains intimately and feared nothing within them.
Aren whispered to Lyrin, "Who exactly are they?"
Lyrin stared at the elf's longbow, decorated with silver runes glowing faintly. "A Ranger of the Silverwood," she murmured. "Elite hunters of the Elven realm… sworn protectors of their borders. They're extremely powerful."
Aren frowned. "So why help us?"
She shook her head. "I have no idea."
Before Aren could respond, the elf's voice drifted back calmly.
"Whisper any louder," they said, "and the entire ridge will hear you."
Aren stiffened. Lyrin nearly tripped.
The elf still hadn't turned around.
Aren cleared his throat. "Sorry."
"Don't apologize," the elf replied. "Just keep walking."
They continued in silence for several minutes until the ridge widened into a plateau. The elf stopped abruptly.
"Here."
Aren followed their gaze.
Ahead, a tall stone formation rose like the shattered fang of a giant creature. It leaned outward, casting a long shadow over a cluster of thorny vines that formed a natural arch.
"What is this place?" Aren asked.
"A sanctuary," the elf said. "One protected by old magic. The Valkarens won't approach it."
Lyrin blinked. "A natural barrier?"
"No," the elf answered simply. "A living one."
They stepped aside, gesturing toward the arch.
"Enter."
Aren hesitated. Snowfang growled cautiously.
The elf raised an eyebrow. "If I intended to kill you, human, I would have done it when your back was turned."
Aren swallowed. "Fair point."
He led Snowfang forward. Lyrin followed, nervously glancing at the vines.
As Aren crossed under the arch, the vines trembled.
Glowed.
And loosened—opening like a gate acknowledging his presence. A faint pulse of mana washed over him, gentle but ancient, like the feeling of a forest waking up.
He exhaled. "That… felt weird."
Lyrin clutched her chest, eyes wide. "That was elven ward magic…"
A moment later, the elf stepped through the arch as well. The vines responded again—glowing brighter—almost as though bowing.
Aren looked back at the elf. "So… what now?"
"Now," the elf said calmly, "we talk."
They walked a few more steps into a hollow sheltered by stone and vines. At the center was a fire pit with embers faintly glowing, as if someone had been here recently.
The elf threw down a small pouch, and the embers reignited with a soft whoosh. Flames crackled quietly.
Aren raised an eyebrow. "Magic fire-starting?"
The elf ignored the question.
Instead, they turned, finally revealing their full appearance under the warm light.
The ranger was young—at least by elven standards. Maybe mid-twenties in human terms. Tall, lean, with silver-white hair tied back loosely, revealing pointed ears that peeked through strands like polished ivory.
Their eyes were striking—a deep, ancient green, almost luminescent.
A quiver of sleek black-feathered arrows rested on their back.
Lyrin stepped forward slowly. "Please… may we know your name?"
The elf considered her for a moment.
"…Lunaris," they said finally. "Lunaris Vale, Ranger of the Silverwood."
Lyrin bowed lightly. "I'm Lyrin Elwood—daughter of Tharian Elwood."
Lunaris's expression flickered—very subtly.
"Elwood," they repeated. "I see."
Aren blinked. "And I'm Aren. Aren… uh…"
He paused awkwardly.
He didn't have a family name.
Lunaris raised an eyebrow. "…Aren, son of No-One?"
Aren shrugged. "Pretty much."
Lyrin nudged him with an elbow. "Don't say it like that…"
Aren grinned weakly. "It's true though."
Lunaris watched the exchange quietly.
Then: "You two are being hunted."
Aren tensed. "You saw the Valkarens."
"I saw more than that," Lunaris replied calmly. "I saw the trail of shattered mana behind you."
Aren stiffened.
Lyrin stepped protectively closer. "He didn't mean to. His magic is—"
"Unstable," Lunaris finished. "Yes. I noticed."
Aren clenched his jaw. "You got a problem with that?"
Lunaris's gaze sharpened. "Yes."
Aren bristled. "Hey—!"
"Unstable mana tears the balance of the land," Lunaris said, tone cold but steady. "It agitates beasts, disturbs old spirits, and attracts predators like the Valkarens."
Aren flinched, anger rising. "So what? You want me to just… stop breathing?"
Lunaris didn't respond at first.
Then:
"I want you to learn control."
Aren blinked.
Lyrin blinked twice.
Snowfang tilted his head.
"…Huh?" Aren said brilliantly.
Lunaris sat by the fire, removing their gloves. Thin scars lined their fingers—not from battles, but from training, discipline, repetition.
"You are a threat," they said simply. "Not because you are malicious. But because you are ignorant."
Aren frowned. "I'm ignorant?"
"Yes."
Lyrin winced. "Lunaris, maybe choose gentler words—"
"No."
Aren crossed his arms. "I'm not—"
Lunaris looked straight at him.
Aren felt his voice die in his throat.
Those green eyes weren't cold anymore.
They were sharp.
Focused.
Seeing through him.
"Your mana is overflowing," Lunaris said. "Your pathways are burning. Your aura is leaking like a cracked vessel. If you continue to force spells the way you did earlier, you will rupture your core."
Aren felt a chill.
A real one.
Lyrin grabbed his sleeve. "Aren… that's what I was afraid of."
Lunaris continued.
"And once your core ruptures, your body will follow. Slowly or instantly—it depends on how hard you push."
Aren swallowed hard.
He suddenly felt very small.
The fire crackled, filling the silence.
Finally, Aren whispered, "…How do you know all this?"
Lunaris held up their hand.
Their skin glowed faintly—like a soft leaf-green aura dancing around their palm. Controlled, gentle, smooth.
"Because I was like you once," Lunaris said quietly. "And I nearly died because of it."
Aren felt his chest tighten.
Lyrin covered her mouth in shock.
"You…?" Aren asked.
Lunaris nodded. "When I was young, my mana was wild. Untamed. Every spell felt like grabbing lightning with bare hands. It burned me from the inside."
They traced a finger over one of the pale scars.
"It took years of discipline to regain balance."
Lyrin whispered, "Then… you know how to help him?"
"Yes."
Aren's heart skipped.
"But," Lunaris continued, "I do not offer guidance without reason."
Aren frowned. "What does that mean?"
Lunaris fixed him with a steady stare.
"Why were you being hunted by Valkarens?" they asked.
Aren stiffened.
He glanced at Lyrin.
She looked away.
Lunaris caught it instantly.
"There is something you are hiding," they said softly. "Both of you."
Aren shifted uneasily. "It's… complicated."
"Complicated," Lunaris echoed. "But not impossible to explain."
Aren stayed silent.
Lunaris's expression didn't change. "Very well. Then tell me this: what dwells within your mana? I saw it—a foreign light woven with your core. Not human. Not elven. Not beast."
Lyrin whispered sharply. "Lunaris—"
But the ranger continued.
"It is ancient," they said. "It is powerful. And it does not belong to this world."
Aren's breath hitched.
He felt his heartbeat thud painfully in his chest.
Lyrin grabbed his hand tightly. "Aren…"
Lunaris leaned forward slightly, eyes glowing faintly.
"Human," they said, voice almost a whisper,
"what are you?"
Silence.
Only the crackling fire responded.
Aren stared at the flames.
He could lie.
He could make something up.
He could walk away.
But Lyrin's trembling grip on his hand reminded him of something important—
He wasn't alone anymore.
He took a slow breath.
"…I don't know," he said quietly. "I woke up in this world with no past. No memories. Just… this."
He touched the glowing pattern on his neck.
The silver mark pulsed faintly, reacting to his touch.
Lunaris's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "A seal."
Aren nodded. "Yeah. A seal I can't remove. A seal that reacts whenever I use magic. A seal that keeps trying to… open."
Lyrin squeezed his hand tighter. "Aren, you don't have to—"
"It's okay," he whispered. "I trust you."
Lunaris watched them silently.
Aren continued, "Every time I use magic… something inside me wakes up. Something bright, loud, and overwhelming. Like a star trying to burst out."
Lyrin whispered, "That's why he loses control."
Lunaris slowly stood.
They walked toward Aren.
The air grew still.
And then, to Aren's shock—
Lunaris placed a single hand over the seal on his neck.
A gentle warmth spread through him.
Lunaris's voice softened for the first time.
"Then hear this, Aren."
Aren swallowed.
Lunaris's emerald eyes glowed faintly.
"That seal… is not suppressing your power."
Aren froze.
Lyrin's eyes widened in horror.
Lunaris spoke clearly:
"It is protecting you from it."
Aren's heart stopped.
Lyrin gasped. "Protecting…? You mean—"
Lunaris withdrew their hand, expression grave.
"Yes. Without that seal, Aren would have died the moment he awakened."
Aren felt his blood turn to ice.
He staggered back, breath trembling. "I… would've died…?"
Lunaris nodded slowly.
"You are not containing a power," they said.
"You are surviving it."
The fire crackled.
Snowfang whimpered softly.
Lyrin's hand shook as she reached for Aren's shoulder. "Aren… hey… breathe…"
But Aren's mind was spinning.
His power wasn't something he was supposed to control.
It was something lethal.
The seal wasn't limiting him.
It was saving him.
Lunaris spoke one last time, voice steady as ever:
"Human… Aren…"
Aren lifted his eyes.
"You carry a star inside you," Lunaris said. "A power that no mortal body was meant to hold."
Silence fell like snowfall.
Soft.
Cold.
Heavy.
Aren whispered, barely audible—
"…Then what am I supposed to do?"
Lunaris turned, the fire reflecting in their eyes like ancient wisdom.
"Simple," they said.
"You learn to survive it."