It was misty.
Not cold, though — that was the strange part. The fog clung to Lif's skin like morning breath, warm and faintly sweet, drifting lazily across a wide, open field that stretched farther than his eyes could follow. The ground beneath his feet was soft, springy, alive. Each step pressed into grass that shimmered faintly, bending but never breaking.
Warm mist.
It reminded him of a dream.
That dream.
Lif exhaled slowly through his nose.
"…Man," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, "Illys really put my ass to work."
The words echoed oddly, as if the fog itself were listening.
He walked forward, hands stuffed into his pockets, boots brushing dew off the grass. In his mind, Illys' voice replayed perfectly — calm, smug, infuriatingly cheerful.
"Alright, Lif. See those trees? All of them. Grab the fruits. You've got ten seconds."
"Ten?" Lif had protested. "That's not even—"
"Nine."
Lif snorted softly at the memory, shaking his head as he walked.
"This isn't even training anymore," he muttered. "Thats child labour."
The field wasn't empty.
Creatures wandered freely between the tall grass — small things at first. Round-bodied critters with oversized ears, hopping clumsily and squeaking at one another. Some looked almost… cute. One stared at him with wide, glossy eyes before tripping over its own feet and rolling downhill.
Lif smiled faintly.
Then he saw the others.
His face twisted instantly.
A long, insect-like thing crawled out from the mist, too many joints in its legs, its body pulsing faintly like something breathing wrong. A pair of eyes blinked independently, wet and reflective. Another creature slithered past — fur where scales shouldn't be, a mouth opening sideways instead of up and down.
Lif physically recoiled.
"Yeah...If hell îs real we know where those things came from"
He sped up a little, pretending very hard not to notice them.
He kept talking to himself as he walked — half habit, half hope. Ever since that first dream, part of him expected a voice to answer back. A comment. A correction. A laugh.
Nothing.
Just mist.
Warm air.
His footsteps.
"…Figures," he muttered. "Guess you only talk when it's dramatic."
The field sloped upward gradually, grass thinning as stone began to peek through the earth. The mist grew lighter here, almost glowing, and the air carried a faint scent of smoke.
That's when he reached the cliff.
Lif stopped.
Ahead of him, beyond the edge, lay a village.
Wooden houses clustered together, sloped roofs, narrow paths winding between them. A familiar watchtower leaned slightly to the left. Fields stretched outward, bordered by fencing he recognized without trying.
His breath caught.
"…No way."
His knees weakened as the realization snapped into place.
Velchant.
His village.
Lif slowly lowered himself to the edge of the cliff and sat down, boots dangling over empty air. He stared down at it, unmoving. The mist thinned just enough to make every detail clearer — too clear.
He didn't smile.
He didn't cry.
He didn't know what he felt.
A part of him wanted to go down there. To walk those paths. To knock on doors. To see if—
He swallowed hard.
"No," he whispered. "Even in a dream… I can't."
His hands clenched in his lap.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, voice barely carrying. "I watched you both. And I ran."
Fire flashed behind his eyes.
Screams.
The smell of burning wood.
His mother on the ground — too still. The red spreading beneath her, the stab wound in her stomach, her throat cut so clean it barely looked real.
His breathing hitched.
His father.
Held off the ground by one hand around his neck.
Altrath.
The man's silhouette burned into his mind like a curse. The way he lifted his sword, casual, practiced — ready to end it.
"Stop," Lif whispered.
The image sharpened.
"Stop."
His hands rose and he slapped himself. Once. Twice. Again. Harder.
"Stop—stop—"
His face burned, tears finally spilling free as he sucked in a shaky breath. He wiped at his eyes angrily, staring back down at the village as if daring it to disappear.
He sat there like that — frozen between memory and fog.
Then he felt it.
A presence.
Not hostile.
Not heavy.
Just… there.
He didn't turn.
It moved closer, the grass rustling softly, until the weight of it settled beside him. Someone sat down at the cliff's edge, close enough that their shoulder nearly touched his.
"…what," Lif said quietly.
No answer.
He finally turned his head.
White hair spilled across the grass like moonlight, beautiful and long, glowing faintly. The woman from his dream sat beside him, legs folded calmly, her gaze fixed on the village below as if she belonged there.
Lif stared.
"…Who are you," he asked. "I keep seeing you. Who—or what—are you?"
She ignored him.
He frowned. "Hey. I asked you—"
She turned then, giggling softly, covering her mouth with delicate fingers.
"Can't you just appreciate the view?" she said lightly. "This is my first time bonding with family."
Lif blinked.
"…What?"
He stared at her like she'd lost her mind.
She smiled, amused, eyes crinkling slightly. "You're making a very funny face."
"…are you ill?," Lif said flatly.
She laughed.
Then, casually, "How's your body adapting?"
"…Adapting to what?"
"Your awakening," she said, like it was obvious.
Lif stared at her. "Okay, yeah. Definitely my subconscious."
He sighed. "It's fine, I guess. I can't use it much. Strains me too fast, so I barely touch it."
She tilted her head. "And how does it strain you?"
"…Mana," Lif said. "I don't think I have much. I've been a Hollowborn my whole life. So it's probably just… developing now."
She blinked.
Then laughed again, softer this time.
"That makes no sense," she said fondly. "Silly. 'Much mana' would be an underestimate."
Lif shrugged. "Sure. Whatever helps me sleep."
She leaned closer suddenly, reaching out and pinching his cheek between her fingers. Her grip was warm. Real. Yet frost grew on his cheek
"You'll know soon enough," she whispered, eyes searching his.
Confusion flooded him.
"…What?"
The world snapped.
---
Lif slept.
His breathing was steady, brow faintly furrowed.
Illys sat nearby, legs crossed, watching him with open curiosity. A faint smile tugged at his lips.
"You really do sleep like a tree," he murmured.
He lifted a small blue crystal shard, holding it just inches from Lif's face. The shard glowed softly, pulsing in time with Lif's breath.
Illys hummed thoughtfully.
"…You're a weird kid, Lif," he said warmly. "A very weird kid."
The crystal shimmered brighter for just a moment.
Illys chuckled.