Dawn crept quietly across the horizon, brushing pale gold over the tops of the trees. The lake shimmered faintly under the morning light, still and cold as glass.
Elara awoke with heavy eyes and an ache in her chest that felt unfamiliar. She had not slept well—had barely slept at all, in fact. The white-haired girl lay staring at the ceiling for hours last night, her mind caught in a tangle of thoughts she didn't want to name. When sleep finally claimed her, it brought dreams that left her cheeks burning and her heart pounding against her ribs.
Now, morning light filled the small cabin, and fatigue clung to her like mist. She yawned softly, dragging a pale hand across her face.
"Pull yourself together," she muttered, giving her cheek a firm pat. The cold sting of her own fingers helped a little.
She dressed quickly, smoothing her long white hair and pinning it back with a thin strip of cloth. Then, with a sigh, she stepped into the main room.
"Good morning, Elara!" came Mino's bright voice.
The rabbit-eared girl was already awake and busy at the table. The morning sunlight danced off her soft brown hair, and her long ears twitched as she looked up with a smile.
Elara blinked blearily. "Morning," she replied. Her voice sounded dull even to her own ears. "What are you doing?"
Mino gestured toward the table, where an odd arrangement of cups and bowls was laid out: one large tea bowl, and four smaller cups beside it. "Luciel said these tea sets can make the tea seem more expensive if I do it right," she said earnestly. "So I'm practicing!"
Elara stared at her for a moment, uncomprehending. "More expensive?"
Mino nodded solemnly as she poured steaming water from the large bowl into the smaller ones, her tongue poking out slightly in concentration. "He said presentation matters. So I'm learning how to pour without spilling."
Elara's lips twitched. "And where is this great tea master of yours?"
"He went out early," Mino replied without looking up. "Said he was going to the plantation—to build some kind of shelter for the tea trees."
Elara blinked. "A shelter? For trees?"
"That's what he said," Mino chirped, carefully pouring the water back into the large bowl again.
Elara shook her head, bemused, and pushed open the door.
Outside, the air was cool and clean, scented faintly with dew and wildflowers. She followed the narrow path that wound between stones and roots until she reached the small plantation Luciel had been tending. From a distance, she could already see it—an oddly shaped structure, part stone and part wood, built over the patch of cultivated tea trees like a miniature hill.
She slowed her steps, curiosity stirring. "He actually finished it…"
Moving closer, she noticed a small opening left at the side of the shelter. Ducking through it, she stepped inside—and found Luciel kneeling among the plants, a small brush in hand.
"What are you doing?" she asked softly.
He didn't look up. "Pollinating the flowers."
"Pollinating?" Elara tilted her head. "What's that?"
He smiled faintly, eyes still focused on his work. "These tea trees need help to produce seeds. Normally bees or insects would carry pollen from one flower to another. But since there aren't any here, I have to do it myself."
He dipped the brush carefully, sweeping it across a blossom's delicate yellow center before moving to the next.
"Oh," she said quietly. "So that's how plants… make more plants."
"Exactly." His tone was patient, gentle, as if he were explaining something to a child. But there was a kind of reverence in the way he handled the flowers, a steadiness Elara found oddly soothing.
She crouched nearby, watching him work. "You built this shelter to protect them from the wind?"
"And the rain," he said, pointing toward the curved walls of stone. "Too much exposure would damage them. This way they get the light they need, but not too much cold. There's a vent up top for air."
Elara followed his gesture and saw the small holes punched through the stone ceiling—each no wider than her thumb. The light that filtered through them scattered like falling stars.
"It's… clever," she admitted softly. "I didn't think you'd finish it so soon."
He shrugged. "We'll be leaving for the Moon Lake Tribe today. I wanted them secure before we go."
"Leaving today?" She blinked. "I thought we'd stay longer."
Luciel shook his head. "No need. We'll drop off the goods and return tomorrow. I don't plan to linger there."
Elara's heart gave a strange, disappointed flutter. "So soon…"
He looked up then, meeting her eyes with that calm, unreadable expression she could never quite decipher. "The sooner we trade, the sooner we can come back. I've gone too long without taming a new beast, and we still need more materials for the tea."
She hesitated, then said quietly, "Your companion—Yu Fei'er—you're not going to see her?"
Luciel's mouth curved slightly, a half-smile that never reached his eyes. "I will, don't worry. I may not live in the tribe, but I won't stay away from it either."
That reassurance settled something in her chest. She nodded slowly. "Good."
In truth, she wanted to see Yu Fei'er as well—to ask for help studying the "Angel's Tears" plant and whether it could be turned into medicine for the Void Ghost's Infection. A cure. The thought always made her chest tighten with fragile hope.
Luciel set down the brush and straightened, stretching his shoulders. "When we return," he said, "you should invite your friend to visit. You can show her the plantation."
Elara froze. "Invite her… here?"
He smiled faintly. "Of course. Why not? This is your home too, isn't it?"
The words struck her like a blow.
"My… home?" she echoed, barely a whisper. Her heart began to pound. "You mean—I can think of it that way?"
Luciel's expression softened. "What kind of question is that? You've been living here for days already." He reached out and ruffled her hair with an affectionate roughness. "Of course it's your home."
Elara stood motionless, stunned by the simple warmth in his voice. His hand lingered in her hair for a moment before he smoothed it down again. "There's even a room that's just yours," he said gently. "If you want to stay, then stay."
For a heartbeat, she couldn't breathe.
Her lips parted, but no sound came out. The world seemed to tilt, the light blurring around the edges. She'd imagined hearing those words before—once, in the quiet of night, when she'd let herself drift into foolish dreams. In those dreams, Luciel's voice had said the same thing. Stay.
But dreams were fragile things. They never followed you into morning.
Now, though—now the fantasy had become real.
"I… I…" Her throat closed around the words. Her vision blurred, and she realized too late that her eyes were filling with tears.
"Can't you believe it?" Luciel asked softly. His voice was steady, kind, carrying a warmth that melted through her fear. He reached out again, brushing his thumb over the faint crimson markings that trailed down her right cheek—those cursed scars of the Void Ghost's touch.
Elara's breath hitched. "But… someone like me—can I really stay?"
Her hands trembled as she reached for him, clutching at the front of his shirt as though he might vanish if she let go. "You're not just being kind, are you?"
Luciel looked down at her—this fragile, pale creature whose eyes shimmered like frost under the morning light—and for a moment, something deep flickered in his gaze.
"Why not?" he said quietly. "I think I like someone like you."
The words fell so simply, without hesitation, that for a heartbeat she couldn't comprehend them.
"You…" she whispered. "You like someone like me?"
Her voice broke, disbelief warring with the sudden flood of warmth rising in her chest. Her silver eyes shone through tears as she stared up at him, searching his face for even the smallest trace of mockery—but there was none.
Luciel's expression was calm, honest, utterly sincere. "I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it," he said. Then, gently, he wiped away the tears that streaked down her cheeks.
Her heart beat wildly—too fast, too fierce. "You're not lying?"
"No," he said simply. "I never lie about things like that."
The world blurred again, but this time with relief. Her tears came faster, unstoppable now. She gave a shaky laugh, the sound half-sob, half-joy. "Then I… then I…"
Luciel waited, patient as always.
"I want to stay," she whispered. Then louder, with sudden certainty: "I want to stay."
Her voice trembled, but there was no doubt in it. Only quiet, desperate resolve.
Luciel's lips curved in a rare, genuine smile. "Then stay."
He didn't need to promise her anything more—no vows, no grand assurances. His words were plain and grounded, as everything about him was. Yet they settled into her like sunlight after a long winter.
"I don't know much about your past," he added softly. "But I can tell you this—your future will be better than before."
They were such simple words. No oaths. No poetry. And yet they steadied her more than anything else could have.
Elara's chest tightened again, but this time it wasn't with sorrow—it was with something close to peace. The tears that clung to her lashes caught the morning light, glimmering like small jewels.
For the first time since she could remember, she smiled without forcing it.
Her voice was clear, though her cheeks still flushed pink. "Then it's settled," she said, trying—and failing—to sound composed. "I'll stay."
Luciel chuckled quietly, reaching out to rest a hand briefly on her shoulder. "Good," he said. "Welcome home."
Elara lowered her gaze, her hair falling like a curtain of white silk to hide her face. But behind that curtain, her smile deepened.
For so long, she had lived as though the world held no place for her—a ghost trapped between existence and decay. Yet now, standing there amid the scent of blooming tea flowers and the steady warmth of Luciel's presence, she felt something she had almost forgotten how to feel.
She felt like she belonged.
Outside, the morning had brightened into full day. The light poured through the tiny vents above, falling in soft patterns across the earth. And in that quiet space beneath the shelter, a girl who had once been lost whispered a single thought to herself—a promise, silent and sure.
I will stay.