I'm walking along an endless path, overflowing with flowers of every kind, bathed in a soft, shimmering light.
At the far end of it all, I see an ancient oak.
Majestic.
Luminous.
I move closer.
Could Aeltiàfisar be there?
I'm only a few steps away now, and I can hardly believe what I'm seeing.
The oak isn't made of wood at all—it's formed of countless crystal leaves, hanging like delicate pendants, glowing with color.
Swarms of vivid, multicolored butterflies flutter all around it.
I reach out, just to brush one of the leaves—
—and a butterfly settles on my hand.
It's large.
No… looking closer, it's the largest of them all.
It slowly folds its beautiful wings back and looks straight at me.
"Why have you come here, little Cloudborn?"
It speaks?
I peer at it more carefully… oh.
Of course. It's not a butterfly at all.
It's a fairy.
She's beautiful.
She wears a flowing dress woven from thin crystal leaves, and her eyes are sharp, curious—far too intelligent to be mistaken for something ordinary.
"I need to speak with Aeltiàfisar," I say.
She doesn't answer.
Instead, she lifts into the air.
She circles me again and again, as if studying me.
Sometimes she brushes against me, sometimes she leans close, almost sniffing.
It's… awkward.
But if she can lead me to him, I suppose I can endure it.
"The vibration of Aer's blood flows through your veins," she murmurs.
"Your soul shines brightly. Your heart is pure. So be it…"
She suddenly blows straight into my face.
A warm spiral of air wraps around me—
—and I'm pulled inside the tree.
…
There's nothing here.
Nothing at all.
Only luminous colors, shifting and flowing, endlessly oscillating.
They pulse. They move. They breathe.
So beautiful…
"Do you like my dwelling?"
A deep voice speaks from behind me.
I jolt in shock.
I spin around.
Standing before me is an elderly elf, smiling.
There's something about him that reminds me of Baelkers.
He's tall and slender too, but he wears a simple outfit instead—white fabric, loose trousers, and a soft tunic drawn tight at the waist by a wide belt.
From it hangs a finely wrought metal sword.
On its hilt, the image of a dragon.
It's magnificent.
I wonder… is it his?
His hair cascades in a radiant fall of silver, reminding me of my grandmother's.
Wavy. Incredibly long. Tied back in a low tail.
His ears are pointed, and his eyes are a deep, ocean-blue—like the abyss Adalberto once showed me.
He feels… unreal.
As if he doesn't truly belong to our world.
As if he exists beyond life itself—
and beyond the inevitability of death.
And yet…
I can feel it.
That isn't all.
There's something more.
-----
I've been walking inside this sphere for hours now.
Back and forth.
Over and over again.
Just to kill time.
I look at her—
—and nothing ever changes.
She's asleep.
Always.
But when is she going to wake up?
Anxiety coils tight around my chest.
Her face looks calm, peaceful.
Her breathing is deep, steady, light.
But is everything really all right?
It's taking too long.
It's not normal for someone to lose the outline of their body while they sleep.
This is elven magic.
Ancient magic…
My throat tightens.
If anything were to happen to her, I don't know if I'd be able to save her.
-----
It feels strange, standing in front of him.
Almost intimidating.
Maybe he senses it, because he looks at me with kind eyes and a broad, reassuring smile.
"So?" he asks again.
"Do you like my dwelling?"
Yes, I do… but—
What am I supposed to ask him now?
Hey, you know, my world has turned to stone. My people too. Could you help me?
It sounds so absurd that even I can barely believe it.
He's going to think I'm insane.
He steps closer, slowly.
Careful.
As if he doesn't want to frighten me.
"You're so much like Aer," he says softly.
"The same bright, piercing gaze. The same eyes. The same luminous strand of hair."
Aer again…
It's nice, hearing that—but I honestly don't know what to say.
"I'm sorry my call ended up putting you in danger," he continues.
"That was never my intention."
His call…?
Don't tell me—
"Of course. The little point of light!"
Well, that's something.
I glare at him, bristling.
"So it was you?" I snap.
"What a terrible idea! I nearly died because of your call!"
But he doesn't look shaken.
If anything—
He laughs.
"Exactly like Aer," he says, smiling through the memory.
"When she set off… who could ever stop her?"
His eyes grow moist with emotion.
-----
I'm restless.
There's no way she shouldn't have woken up by now.
It doesn't make sense.
Two magical days have already passed.
I sit down beside her and reach out, trying to touch her—
Thunder of the Realm!
My hand sinks straight into her body.
I jerk it back instantly.
Did I hurt her?
What am I supposed to do…?
If anything happens to her, Bàistec and Urchoicha will have my throat for it.
If anything happens to her…
—we're all doomed.
And it will be my fault.
Mine alone.
How the hell did I even think destroying the Sigillum was a good idea?
How?!
I look at her…
I just want her to wake up.
To talk.
To pout.
To laugh like she always does.
But—
what if she never wakes up?
No.
I can't think that. It's impossible.
I look at her again.
And if she really doesn't wake up…
My stomach drops, twisting in on itself.
It hurts.
She has to wake up!
-----
There's something magnetic about him.
He sits down cross-legged and gestures for me to sit beside him.
So gentle.
And now comes the hardest part.
How do I ask him for help?
"I already know why you're here, Aileen."
I stare at him, startled.
Then it hits me—of course. Elves can read minds. How could I forget?
"You may already know this," he continues,
"but there is only one way to heal Cloudland, to save its people—and our world as well. The Golden Parchment must be brought back to life."
Bring it back to life…
Recreate it from nothing…
Dorcha told me something similar.
But how?
"To achieve something so difficult," he says calmly,
"there is only one path. You must recover the individual Magical Secrets guarded by each of the Seven Realms of our world. One Secret per realm. Through a powerful enchantment, the union of all seven will restore the Sigillum Maximum."
"How am I supposed to find these Magical Secrets?" I ask.
"If they're secrets, I imagine they're very well protected."
His expression turns serious.
It worries me.
"You will have to become a skilled fighter," he says,
"and learn to wield magic."
Is he making fun of me…?
I mean, I wasn't expecting some miracle potion to pour over the land of Cloudland and fix everything—but still.
Me? Fighting? Using magic?
Impossible.
I'm terrible at that sort of thing.
"But… but isn't there another way?" I blurt out.
"I mean—magic… combat… those really aren't my strengths!"
He takes my hand, then looks straight into my eyes.
"The power flowing through your veins is extraordinary," he says quietly.
"Aer possessed it. Lanitae possessed it. You are no different. Haven't you ever wondered why that strand of your hair glows from time to time, Aileen?"
"My mother said I would understand when I was older."
He gently brushes his fingers over the luminous lock.
"You are older now," he says.
"And it is my duty to tell you. That strand carries your power—and the power of all your ancestors. If you learn to awaken it, you will discover just how powerful you truly are."
I take the strand between my fingers, studying it.
My power.
"For example…" I hesitate.
"What could I actually do?"
"For example," he replies,
"you could move from one place to another simply by imagining the journey."
"Seriously? That would save so much time!"
He smiles.
"Yes—but that is only a small thing. There are many others, if you are willing to train. Dorcha and my brother, Baelkers, will teach you. The boy will train you in combat. My brother will teach you to master magic."
"You… you know Dorcha?"
He leans in closer, almost conspiratorial.
"Oh, I do," he says softly.
"He's the one who has yet to discover who he truly is… but don't tell him that, all right?"
He winks.
"Once you have learned what you need, your quest will begin. I am the guardian of the first of the Seven Magical Secrets. I can only give it to you if you pass the trial I will set before you."
"A trial? What kind of trial?"
"The Guardians of the Secrets may grant them only to those who prove themselves worthy. Go now. Train. You have two magical months."
I don't even have time to ask the countless other questions crowding my mind—
everything around me begins to blur.
-----
The sphere is dissolving!
So—
I turn.
She's waking up!
She's pale, shaken.
What happened?
I reach for her—arms, legs, her face.
Is she all right?
"Are you okay?" I ask.
She looks at me.
Then, like a river bursting its banks, she tells me everything—every single detail, without leaving anything out.
I'm stunned.
"Two months?" I burst out.
"You've got to be kidding me!"
"No… but they're magical," she says.
"In two months, two years will pass."
"But we'll still experience them as just two months!" I argue.
"The only difference is that our age will advance by one year each month… and I'm not sure that's such a good thing!"
She looks so distressed that I almost feel guilty for snapping.
"Hey," I say more gently.
"Don't worry. We'll manage."
"You think so?"
"I do."
"In two months I'll be almost sixteen."
"And I'll be almost twenty," I reply.
"You'll know how to fight and use magic. I'll be in peak shape. We'll be unstoppable!"
"Let's go back to the Elves' village," she suggests.
"Get some help."
"Why would we?" I say.
"Aeltiàfisar said I'm the one who has to train you."
"You—and Baelkers!" she protests.
"But I don't get it… you're not a warrior."
What?
I'm not—?
Oh.
If only she knew…
She never will.
Still—she can't be allowed to doubt who I am.
I summon a sword out of thin air.
"Not a warrior?" I say.
I toss it to her.
Then, in one swift motion, I draw my own.
"Let's begin."
The blade misses her by a hair's breadth and sinks into the ground.
The idea of catching it midair clearly never even crossed her mind.
How is that possible?
She stares at me, torn between shock and fury.
"Have you lost your mind?!" she yells.
"You could've killed me!"
What a disaster.
She's completely untrained.
Ah.
These are going to be two very long—very, very long—months.
On second thought…
asking the elves for help might not be such a bad idea after all.