In an age where Links — summoned beings bound to the soul — and elemental essences shaped the rhythm of life, innocence was a rare and fleeting thing.
The world stalked every fragile spark of light like a patient beast circling prey — relentless, unblinking, always waiting to devour even the faintest trace. But not here. Not yet.
Within that brief reprieve, unseen threads of fate were already weaving, pulling two destinies closer, toward a meeting that could never be unwoven.
In a crooked wooden house at the edge of the slums, innocence still had space to breathe. The scent of warm bread lingered in the air; sunlight pressed gently through the cracks in the walls. Weary beams above held everything together, as though guarding a secret too delicate to endure.
Light footsteps moved across the floorboards — soft, uncertain, yet carrying the careless rhythm of childhood. A twelve-year-old boy drifted through the rooms, gilded by the afternoon sun. In the kitchen, his mother and grandmother paused mid-conversation, their words dissolving as they turned to watch him.
"Noah, honey. Did you have a nice bath?"
He looked at her and stood up proudly, showing off his clothes — a clean linen shirt tucked loosely into dark trousers a size too big, cinched at the waist with a worn belt. His hair was still damp, clinging in unruly strands to his forehead, and the faint smell of soap clung to him as though he carried the bathwater with him into the room.
"Yes, Mom, it was warm. I loved the new clothes you bought me."
She smiled and gently stroked his hair.
"So handsome, my love. Can you do something for me? You know those herbs we always pick in the forest? Can you get some for me? I want to make tea for your grandmother, and that soup you love."
The boy beamed, nodded eagerly, and grabbed the small wicker basket by the door — its handle polished smooth from years of use. Hugging it close, he darted outside, his feet pattering across the threshold as the forest waited for him.
Noah darted into the undergrowth, the wicker basket bouncing at his side as he crouched to pluck herbs sprouting between roots. Their sharp, green scent clung to his fingers. He moved deeper, spotting the fat, round mushrooms that made his mother's soup so rich. Kneeling, he brushed the dirt away and gathered them carefully, humming under his breath.
Reaching for the last one, a sound broke the stillness — the brittle snap of a twig. His humming cut short.
Noah froze. Slowly, he lowered himself behind a thick bush, pressing his back against the bark of a tree. His hand clamped over his mouth as he leaned forward, peeking through the leaves.
A wolf pup stood only a few paces away. Its gray fur bristled faintly, ears twitching as it sniffed the ground. Young — but dangerous if its mother was near.
Noah remained motionless like stone. His pulse pounded in his eardrums. Then his heel betrayed him. A twig cracked beneath his foot. The pup's head snapped up. Its eyes fixed on the bush. Step by step, it began to pad toward him, cautious but certain.
Noah's throat tightened. Slowly, with trembling fingers, he reached down to the dirt. His hand brushed across pebbles. He picked one — small, smooth, just heavy enough. The pup came closer. Each step sank louder in his mind than the forest itself.
Noah swallowed, held his breath, and in one quick motion, flicked the stone across the clearing. It clattered against a trunk, bouncing into the brush. The sound was sharp enough to echo. The pup's ears perked. It turned, sniffed the air, and after a tense heartbeat, trotted toward the noise.
Noah didn't move until it had vanished into the trees. Only then did he crawl out from behind the bush, his chest heaving.
He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, a shaky grin spreading across his face. "That was close. Mom said I shouldn't come this far… but I love those mushrooms." He gave his shoulders a sheepish shake, hugging the basket tighter.
Back on the dirt path, the world felt safer again. He kicked pebbles as he walked and hummed to himself. The wind rustled through the leaves, tousling his hair — once damp, now it had taken on its natural shape: dark brown curls that framed his bright blue eyes. The mission felt heroic: gathering herbs to 'save' the evening — and, of course, securing his favorite soup's place at supper also seemed pretty important.
"I think I'll pick some of those pretty purple flowers Mom likes…"
Straying from the main path, he followed a trail that led to an open field of lavender. The sweet scent hung in the air like a secret suspended in time. And there, between the lilac of the flowers and the soft blue of the sky, he saw her.
A girl, maybe his age, stood there wearing a turquoise dress and a white hat adorned with blue flowers. She touched the lavender carefully — then her eyes darted across the field, a restless look searching for something.
The boy approached slowly, curious and watchful.
"Hi… are you lost?"
The girl turned, startled. There was something unusual about her.
Her eyes were large, and unlike the dull leaves around them — the green in her eyes gleamed in a pale hue, so bright he could almost swear he saw his own reflection in them. Her paper-white skin stood out even more with the blush that rose in her cheeks from the heat. She hesitated for a moment, then nodded with a shy smile.
"I wandered off… I'm looking for the main road."
Noah puffed out his chest with pride, feeling responsible like a little guardian.
"I know where it is, I can take you there. But before that, I'm going to pick a few of these to take home to my mom."
She nodded.
He crouched, choosing only the prettiest flowers — weighing each one like a jeweler appraising diamonds. He placed them in the straw basket, then he bent down again, gently shifting through the lavender as if searching for something precious in that endless purple ocean beneath his feet.
As the sun shifted and their shadows slid across the lavender, he finally picked a single bloom and, with a nearly tangible shyness, extended his hand to her.
"Here. This one's for you — in case you get lost again and I'm not around."
She took the flower, and the red that had only touched her cheeks now suffused her whole face. "Thank you."
As they began walking, that same rustle came again — closer, sharper. Noah's stomach knotted.
From the thicket, the same pup padded out, nose low to the ground, sniffing curiously. It must have followed his scent from earlier.
Beside him, the girl tilted her head and, to his surprise, stepped forward. Her eyes were wide but not afraid, as though she thought the small creature was harmless.
Then the air split with a deeper growl.
The mother emerged. Larger. Scarred. Hunger burning in her yellow eyes.
The girl froze. Her arms jerked halfway up, then clasped over her head as her eyes squeezed shut. Her lips parted, but no sound came. All colors drained from her face.
Noah's legs trembled, but he forced himself in front of her. His gaze darted to the ground until he found it — a fallen branch. Small. Crooked. But it was all he had. He lifted it with both hands, knuckles white.
The mother stalked in a widening loop, body low, hackles raised. The pup hovered by her, patient and unblinking, as if the feast were already on its way.
The wolf circled, muscles coiled, teeth bared. Then, in a blur, she lunged at Noah.
He twisted aside at the last instant, claws raking the air so close he felt the wind tear past his cheek. His heart lurched. The beast skidded, pivoted, and came again.
Noah swung the branch with all his strength. Wood cracked against fur and bone — but the impact jolted him more than the wolf. The creature slammed into him, sending him sprawling into the dirt. Breath ripped from his chest as he rolled, dust filling his mouth.
The branch slipped from his hands. He staggered up, only to see the wolf pivot away from him. Her yellow eyes fixed on the girl — still frozen — hands clamped over her head, eyes still shut tight.
"No!" His voice tore out raw.
He lurched forward, legs buckling beneath him. He stumbled, dropped again, his palms scraping earth. Desperation drove him onward. He stretched both arms out, throwing himself between her and the beast.
Eyes shut, he braced for the weight, the fangs, the end.
But instead — a muffled thud.
Silence.
Noah cracked one eye open. Then both.
The wolf wasn't on him. She lay against the base of a tree several paces away, writhing weakly, as if some unseen force had flung her aside. The pup pressed close to its mother, both beasts glaring at Noah and the girl — yet not advancing.
None of them moved. Even the forest seemed to hold its breath.
Then as if they both reached the same conclusion, the pup gave a low whine and the mother's hackles eased. Confusion flickered in their eyes — as though whatever had just happened wasn't worth the risk. With one last glance, they melted back into the undergrowth, shadows swallowing them whole.
Noah's arms slowly dropped, the tremor still running through them. His chest burned with every breath, dirt clung to his skin, but a shaky grin tugged at his lips. He turned to the girl, placing a hand gently on her shoulders.
"Hey… are you alright? They're gone."
Her hands slipped from her head. She kept her eyes closed for a heartbeat longer, then finally opened them, her voice trembling as it escaped.
"What happened? How did you make them leave?"
Noah wiped a streak of dirt from his cheek with the back of his hand, letting out a shaky laugh.
"I have no idea. This sort of thing… It happened before. My mom and grandma always say that I have some kind of luck or something." His smile softened, worn but genuine. "Anyway… I'm just glad you're alright."
"You're crazy, you know that…" she murmured with a half-smile of relief.
Hands on his hips, grinning, Noah shot back, "I'm crazy? You were the one who stepped forward when that thing showed up."
She lifted a finger, almost playfully. "For the record, I only did that — because it was a little pup. You were the one who stood in front of its mother."
Noah stopped, scratched his head, then gave a small nod of concession.
He was a mess — hair tangled, clothes stained and rumpled, the shine of his new outfit already dulled. But for once, he didn't seem to care. The relief in his grin outshone everything else.
The girl stepped closer, brushing bits of earth and dust from his shirt, fussing over the dirt as if it mattered. Then, without hesitation, she caught his hand in hers, holding on tight.
"Come on." Her lips curved faintly. "Before they decide to come back… and your luck runs out."
They walked for a while, the rhythm of their steps filling the quiet path.
Finally, Noah spoke, breaking the silence.
"You're not from here, right? I'm one of the few kids around — someone like you would've stood out."
She nodded.
"I'm just passing through. We're heading to the capital. My parents…" She glanced away. "They came on business and wanted to rest the carriage for a bit."
"So, you snuck off without anyone noticing, huh?" Noah teased, smirking.
She lifted a finger, eyes closing briefly.
"Technically, to sneak off, you'd have to be grounded or something. I just… took a temporary detour without permission."
He laughed, tilting his head right.
"You just didn't expect to get lost during the 'temporary detour.'"
"A small miscalculation." She brushed it off with a playful shrug.
Suddenly, his stomach growled.
"Looks like somebody's hungry." She giggled.
Her stomach growled in response.
They averted their eyes for an instant.
Noah rubbed his belly. "Nothing a hot soup can't fix."
She paused, curious.
He rolled his eyes.
"I know, I know… you think I'm weird craving hot soup on a warm day."
She shook her head emphatically.
"No, it's just — hot day, cold day… I'd still choose soup. And if that makes you weird, then I'm right there with you."
His eyes widened. "Really?"
He reached into the basket and held up the contents.
"Look — I came to pick ingredients for my mom's tea and my favorite soup."
She peered inside: mushrooms, herbs, roots.
"Wow, so much stuff. It'll be amazing. Just missing—"
"Potatoes!" The answer burst out in perfect unison.
"First time I've met someone with such good taste." His voice was light, playful.
She nodded, grinning.
"I must agree with you, sir."
They laughed, breathless with joy, and strolled without hurry — like two old friends on any sunny day.
When they reached the stone path, he offered to escort her to her parents. She shook her head, a sad smile playing on her lips.
"It's okay. I slipped away… If they see me with you, they'll blame you."
She pulled a necklace from her pocket. A delicate silver cord strung a dark matte blue stone. Its center bore two crossed swords behind a shield, with a heart-shaped flame and leaves twisting upward along the edges.
"It's to thank you for the flower — and so you won't forget me. One day, I'll repay you for saving me from that… monster."
She stepped forward, fastening the necklace around his neck. He flushed bright red, hunched shoulders, hands gripping his shirt.
"Bye, Flower-boy. We'll meet again, I'm sure. Then I'll take you to the place with the best soup in the world."
She began walking away. He waved slowly, then turned away singing, a wide smile lighting his face — as if his heroic mission had become even more unforgettable.
They parted ways. After a few steps, she stopped and looked back.
"Wait… I never asked his name. Hey, Flower-bo—"
A shadow fell behind her. Her expression shifted instantly.
"Turalon… how long have you been following me?"
Behind her, a guard in silver and blue armor knelt.
"A few seconds, Princess Syl. I must say, it was cunning of Your Highness to wait for shift change to escape your other guard. Please, join me — your parents are worried."
Syl turned, stern-faced.
"It's not my fault he wasn't paying attention. But first — I just need to ask the name of the boy who saved me."
She took a step forward, but Turalon blocked her gently.
"Unfortunately, that's impossible, princess. If I delay any longer, I risk losing my position. I ask you to consider this…"
She sighed, resentful, eyes lingering on the path where Noah had disappeared into the woods.
"Fine… let's go. I can't stand another guard treating me like an idiot kid. At least you've never done that."
As they walked, Turalon spoke softly.
"I'm sorry. He seemed like a good boy. But, Your Highness, as heir to our realm, you shouldn't have contact with humans — especially in these times."
She took off her hat, and two pointed ears unfolded like origami beside her head.
"I know, I know… Do you think I'm wearing this hat for decoration? Father explained why we're heading to the human capital — to decide if our alliance should remain. And it's not your fault. He'd pitch a fit anyway. Better we don't delay longer."
She halted once more, glancing over her shoulder.
"But he was different… not like the humans I've been warned about. Even trembling with fear, he faced a monster just to protect me."
Turalon nodded.
"That's courage, princess. It transcends race and lineage. Many mistake courage for the absence of fear. True heroes are those who face their fear — despite being terrified."
He adjusted the strap of his sword, eyes scanning the tree line one last time before turning back to her.
"Now come. If your older sister uses her Link, she'll freeze the entire forest trying to find you."
When Noah returned home, he carried the flowers — now slightly wilted — hidden behind his back.
He still wore a smile, thinking of the girl he'd met. But the moment he stepped through the door, everything felt off.
His grandmother sat on the couch, face buried in her hands. The silence pressed against the room like a suffocating weight, loud in its emptiness.
"Granny… are you okay? Where's Mom?"
She hesitated, her voice fractured when it finally came.
"She… she had to leave, dear. Said it was something important. She might not come back soon."
Noah didn't answer.
He just stood there. The flowers slipped from his hand, petals crumbling like hushed farewells.