Lith woke before the sun again.
He always did. The boy seemed connected to the morning wind in a way no human child ever should be. As soon as the first breeze touched the window, he sat up, hair tousled, eyes bright with a calm kind of hunger. He was listening to the planet's mana breathe.
Mhari watched him from the doorway, quietly tying her hair into a loose knot. He's growing too fast...
Lith turned his head, sensing her gaze. "Mama, the wind is loud today."
"It's just the mountain air," she said softly. "Come, we need to fetch water before Rhei returns."
Rhei had gone to the city at dawn, carrying sacks of rice harvested from the miraculously rich fields Mhari "helped" grow.
Lith hopped to his feet and joined her outside.
The village was simple—dirt paths, worn cottages, fences mended a hundred times. It sat outside the city walls, where commoners lived with whatever strength they had left. Farmers, scavengers, weak humans scraping for another day.
No nobles. No mana-rich races. No one who would survive if the the city ever turned its eyes outward.
But the land around them flourishes. Fields that were once dry now greened. The river carried fish again. Trees bore fruit too early in the season.
All because of her.
All hidden.
All carefully disguised as coincidence and luck.
Mhari walked ahead, keeping her steps slow so Lith could catch up. She could feel the faint pulse of her power beneath the soil. Every root recognized her. Every leaf greeted her. Every morning, she whispered silent healing into the ground to help the village eat.
She wanted no praise. She only wanted her son to have a place where he wasn't hunted.
"Lith," she said, glancing over her shoulder, "stay close."
He nodded, but the wind tugged at him again, brushing his cheek like an inpatient friend. His eyes drifted to the distant city—a massive wall of stone and steel, with watchtowers perched like sharp eyes studying the horizon.
He had never stepped inside.
He had only heard stories. And lately, he kept asking.
They reached the water jars beside the wall. Lith touched the rope, and the wind responded instantly—too instantly. It wrapped around the bucket, HSSSSSHH—pulling it up with smooth precision, barely making a splash.
"Lith," Mhari warned under her breath. "Hands, not wind."
He blinked, as if surprised. "Oh, sorry."
Mhari took a slow break. He doesn't even realize he's doing it anymore.
"Let Mama do the lifting," she said.
Lith stepped aside obediently, but his eyes wandered again toward the city, toward the distant gates where carts entered and left.
Toward the world he wanted.
Later, after breakfast, Mhari walked with Lith toward the forest near the base of the mountain. She needed fireword, barriers, and a moment of quiet to breathe.
Lith needed space to run.
And maybe...she needed time to prepare herself for what she knew was coming.
The boy dashed ahead, chasing drifting leaves. Wind curled under his feet, lifting him a few inches every time he leaped. It made him look almost weightless.
"Lith!" Mhari quickened her step. "Feet on the ground."
He landed—reluctanyly—and pretended to admire a rock, as if that was what he meant to do all along.
Mhari sighed. He's getting stronger. Too strong. Even sealed, his mana keeps rising. The Zero-Point blood rejects the suppression. If the wrong person sees—no. I can't allow it.
She caught up to him and ruffled his hair. "Stay beside Mama."
Lith nodded, but his expression shifted—something tight, something restrained. She had begun noticing that look more often recently. It wasn't rebellion, and it wasn't anger.
It was frustration... mixed with longing.
They passed a small lake. A family of birds nestled in the branches above the water—two adults and three tiny chicks chirping for food.
Lith froze.
And Mhari walked a few more steps before realizing he wasn't behind her. She turned, finding him standing still, gaze fixed on the nest with a blank expression.
Not blank.Mhari corrected herself. Trying not to feel. She recognized the mask of the warrior. She had worn that exact look in mirrors long ago, right before the world demanded everything from her. "Lith?"
His voice was quite. "Mama...when will Papa come home?"
Her heart tightened painfully.
She forced a small, even though her throat closed. "You miss him again?"
"I don't remember his face," he whispered. "But my friends, their fathers come home every day. They carry them, they teach them things." Lith swallow. "Am I the only one who doesn't have one?"
"No," she said. "You have a father. He's just very far away."
"But you said he's strong. Strong people don't stay gone. They come home fast."
Mhari closed her eyes for a moment. Lithos...your son looks for you every day. She lifted Lith, settling him on her hip even tho he was already getting heavy for it. He rested his head against her shoulder, drawing comfort from the warmth of her body more than the words she could offer. "He'll come home when he finishes his mission," she said. "You just have to wait."
"But I don't want to wait."
The softness in his tone was the part that stabbed her the most.
Lith wasn't throwing a tantrum. He wasn't whining. He was simply hurting.
"And Mama," he murmured against her shoulder. "If Papa is strong...why can't we go inside the city? Why can't I study there like the others?"
Mhari froze. There it was. The question she had dreaded.
She put him down slowly. "Lith, we've talked about this. The city isn't safe for us, we're commoners. We're...humans."
"Weak," Lith said bluntly. It wasn't cruelty, it was truth. "That's what everyone says," he continued. "Humans are weak. Humans are prey. Humans can't carry mana. Humans are only good for farming." Lith tilted his head, confused. "But you're not weak, Mama. I can feel it. Your mana is huge. Sometimes...it scares me."
Mhari inhaled sharply. Lith looked up at her with those golden eyes—a perfect echo of her beloved. It was only thing that could truly break her seal. "Mama," he said quietly, "why do you act like you're weak when you're not?"
That question hit her like a blade. She didn't mean to release pressure, and to let the seal on her presence slip. But the moment her emotions cracked, her power flickered—just a touch, a small pulse and the world reacted.
Birds burst from branches. Animals bolted from bushes. Leaves shivered violently as if a storm had passed through.
Lith stood calm in the center of it all, unfazed...but watching her with wide, curious eyes.
Mhari dropped to a crouch, cupping his face urgently. "Lith, listen to me."
He blinked. "Mama, I'm not scared—"
"No," she said, her voice trembling. "Don't ever say things like that in front of anyone, do you understand?"
Lith tilted his head. "But why—"
"Because people fear what they don't understand," she said. "If they think you're different...they won't admire you." She swallowed. "They'll use you. Break you. Take you away from me."
The last sentence slipped out before she could stop it. Lith's expression softened. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her neck. "Mama... I'll never let anyone take you."
Mhari froze.
Lith's voice was still gentle, still childish, but something deeper stirred underneath—a quiet, unsettling confidence. The voice of a King who already knows his destiny. "Mama," he continued, "I'm not weak, I can protect you too." She hugged him tightly, hiding her shaking hands in his hair.
No, my baby. You don't know what kind of world this is. You don't know what they'll do to a child like you.
She forced herself to breathe and pulled back, pinching his cheek lightly.
"Ow—Mama!"
"That's for scaring me," she said, then kissed his forehead. "Next time you talk like that, I won't go easy."
Lith puffed his cheeks. "You're mean."
"And you're reckless," Mhari replied, but her smile softened the words.
They spend the next hours gathering fruits on the mountain slope. Mhari climbed lightly, pretending she was only agile because of practice—not because she could bend the earth under her feet if she wished.
Lith carried the baskets, wind silently lifting the weight for him whenever Mhari looked away. When they reached the stream, Lith cupped water in his hands and splashed her with a grin. She splashed back. For a moment, it felt simple—just a mother and a child laughing in the forest.
But when Lith looked again toward the city walls, Mhari felt it. The longing, the dream, the hunger for a world bigger than their small village, and the fear inside her twisted again.
She knew this chapter of their lives couldn't last forever. They rested under a large tree at noon, sharing the apples they gatherer.
"Mama," Lith said in a small voice.
"Hm?"
"If I become strong enough...can I go to the city then?"
Mhari's breath caught. She didn't answer at first. The wind was the only thing that dared to speak between them, rustling the branches overhead.
Lith's fingers twisted on his sleeve. "I want to learn things. I want to see things. Everyone says the academy is big, and they teach magic there." He hesitated. "I want to learn magic properly, not just...by feeling."
Mhari clenched her hands.
She knows, his son deserved education, a future, a father beside him, not just a mother fighting shadows alone. But she had seen the academy, she had seen the students—elves, Beastfolk, nobles with mana overflowing, children bred from lineages of power.
Humans weren't welcomed.
Prodigies were tools.
And monsters thrived.
"No," Mhari said finally. "Not yet."
Lith's shoulder lowered slowly. "Why?"
"Because you're still small."
"I'm not," he whispered.
"But when I'm big, can I go then?" He looked up at her, golden eyes hopeful.
"Still no," she insisted. "And the world is cruel enough to swalloueven grown men."
He tilted his head, still confused. "I'm big back there! I know things and if everyone is not busy underestimating me, then this wouldn't be hard."
Mhari felt her heart ached. She had to control herself... "Lith!" She was never a woman that would hurt her son in both physical, and emotional hurt... She was losing his control and that scared her.
Lith picked at the grass, quiet. He didupout. He didn't argue fiercely. He just... folded in on himself. That hurt more than any tantrum, he just wants the world.
She reached for him. "Lith—"
"When Papa comes home...will you let me go then?" He asked, his voice thin.
That's why?
Mhari's throat closed. It hurt her more now that she discovered the sole reason why does he want to see the City. "If he wants to go with you, yes." She had no right to decide his future. The condition felt safe; the chances of Lithos returning were less than zero.
A promise built on a ghost.
Mhari closed her eyes. I'm sorry, Lith. One day, you'll know the truth. But not now.
They stayed like that for a while—mother and child beneath a quiet sky, holding each other not because life was peaceful...but because it wasn't.
Because one wanted the world.
And the other wanted desperately to protect him from it.
Because both of them were waiting for someone who would never return.