The West Valley was not merely a crevice between icy mountains; it was a festering wound on the Empire's border. Here, the air no longer smelled of pure snow, but of sulfur from toxic hot springs and the metallic tang of rust from illegal weapons traded beneath the shadows of the cliffs.
Thick fog crawled over the rocky ground, hiding the wooden shacks built haphazardly in a trading post known as The Broken Wing.
Elian walked through the fog.
His footsteps made no sound on the gravel, yet every time he planted his foot, the earth seemed to sink slightly, as if the ground happily made way for his increasingly dense mass. His torn black cloak fluttered, covering the rusted sword on his back. His hood was pulled low, but it was impossible to hide the chilling aura radiating from his body.
His Nature Sense throbbed. This valley was full of malicious intent. He felt hundreds of unstable heartbeats—fugitives, smugglers, and traitors seeking refuge in this no-man's-land.
"Stop right there, Sweetheart."
The voice came from the darkness beside an old warehouse. Three men emerged, holding iron chains and crossbows. Their leader, a dwarf-sized man with one eye named Vork, stared at Elian with a disgusting, hungry gaze.
"You have a face that could make a king give up his crown," Vork smirked, twirling a small knife in his fingers. "Your clothes are ruined, but your skin... ah, that skin is too precious to be left dirty here. Come with me, and I'll make sure you get a soft bed... inside a cozy cell."
Elian stopped. He didn't turn toward Vork. His eyes remained fixed forward, toward the fire beacon in the center of the trading post marking the direction of the Noctis border.
"I need a pass to cross the Border Wall," Elian said. His voice was flat, without a tone of anger or fear.
"A pass?" Vork laughed loudly, followed by his men. "In Broken Wing, the currency is flesh or gold. You have no gold, so you know what you must give. Now, kneel and put on these chains, or we'll break your legs first."
One of Vork's men stepped forward, trying to grab Elian's shoulder.
Grab.
Elian didn't dodge far. He only shifted his shoulder an inch. As the man's hand touched Elian's clothes, Elian caught his wrist.
"Heavy," Elian whispered.
He channeled gravitational mass from his bone marrow to his left hand.
CRACKKKK!
The rocky ground beneath them cracked instantly. The man didn't have time to scream before his body was pulled down by an invisible weight. His shoulder dislocated with a sickening sound, and he fell to his knees until his kneecaps shattered against the sharp rocks.
"What—?!" Vork recoiled. He saw no magic. He saw no aura. He only saw his subordinate crushed as if a giant boulder had just fallen on him.
"I don't like repeating my requests," Elian turned slowly toward Vork.
Under the hood, Elian's black eyes glowed with a very faint golden hue—resonance from the World's Will watching him possessively. In Vork's eyes, Elian was no longer a beautiful child; he looked like a primeval predator in disguise.
"T-The pass... is in the Overseer's office! Fat Malek has it!" Vork stammered, dropping his knife. "Please... don't kill me!"
Elian released the man who had fainted from shock. He walked past the violently trembling Vork.
"The world... seems to bend towards him," Vork muttered softly as he saw Elian's footprints on the ground. The prints weren't deep, but the stone beneath them had been crushed into powder.
***
POV: Elian Vane
The air here is dirty. I miss the smell of the pure forest.
My left arm keeps throbbing. The black lines under my skin feel hot every time I manipulate weight.
Something is following me. Not human. Something older. It hides in the fog, guarding me in a way that makes me feel... loved. But this love feels suffocating.
Is this destiny? To be the center of everything the light wants to destroy?
I see the beacon. Malek... he will be my last stepping stone before Noctis.
Elian arrived in front of a two-story stone building, the sturdiest in the trading post. Two guards in heavy armor—a sign they were former army deserters—stood in front of the door.
"Move," Elian commanded.
"Impudent brat! Do you know who is inside—"
Elian didn't wait for them to finish speaking. He performed a short Mass Leap.
BOOM!
In the blink of an eye, Elian was behind them. The heavy stone door caved inward due to the air pressure from Elian's movement. Both guards were thrown sideways by the shockwave, knocked unconscious instantly with blood trickling from their ears.
Elian entered the warm room. There, a trembling man sat behind a large wooden desk filled with documents. Malek, the Overseer, was counting gold coins when Elian entered.
"Who are you?!" Malek tried to reach for his magic pistol.
Elian stepped forward. Each step made the furniture in the room vibrate. Crystal glasses shattered due to his mass resonance frequency.
"Pass to Noctis. Now," Elian said.
Malek swallowed hard. He felt the air pressure around him become so dense he found it hard to breathe. He saw the black tattoo on Elian's left hand and realized something.
"You... the boy from the Shattered Peak? The Templar Knights put a ten thousand gold bounty on your head!" Malek tried to negotiate, though his voice trembled. "If you surrender yourself to me, I can—"
Elian slammed his hand onto Malek's desk.
CRASHHH!
The thick teak desk shattered into splinters. All the documents flew into the air. Malek fell from his chair, crying in fear.
"I do not sell myself," Elian whispered, leaning over Malek. "I only take what the world gives me."
Elian found a leather scroll with a silver seal on top of the pile of fallen documents. It was a diplomatic pass stolen or bought by Malek from the black market—the perfect ticket into Noctis territory without rigorous inspection.
He tucked it under his cloak.
Suddenly, Elian stopped. He turned toward the open window.
On the roof of the building opposite, a woman dressed all in black with a single-eye mask was staring at him. She was one of the Weeping Eye.
The woman gave a small salute, then vanished into the fog.
Elian narrowed his eyes. He felt like a pawn on a very large chessboard. The Church hunted him, but another faction seemed to be guiding him.
"Just wait..." Elian murmured.
He left the ruined Overseer's office. He walked toward the western gate of the trading post. There, behind the last mountain range, lay the black lands of the Kingdom of Noctis—a territory where dark magic and outcast races lived under the rule of the Dark Queen.
Elian didn't know that in Noctis, Lunaria was conducting dangerous negotiations with shadow nobles to prepare for his arrival.
He also didn't know that at the distant Convent of Saint Marigold, a new Archbishop had been appointed to replace Benedict, and his first order was: "Find the Vane seed, do not let him reach the Academy."
Elian stepped through the Broken Wing gate. The gravity in his body slowly stabilized as he left the icy mountain anomaly zone.
He took a deep breath. The smell of wet earth and the dark forests of Noctis greeted him.
"This volume has only just begun, Elara," Elian whispered, staring at the silver badge he held tightly. "And I will destroy anyone who tries to write an ending for us."