The sun rose slowly over the northern plains of Velmara, casting a golden hue across the frost-covered trees and scattered meadows. After the darkness of Noctelleth, even this pale morning light felt like a distant blessing.
Asari exhaled, the cold air steaming from his lips. His wounds had closed, but the toll of the Forgotten King's domain lingered in his bones.
Aicha sat near a small fire, rubbing warmth into her hands. Her enchanted wheelchair hummed softly, absorbing Eather from the forest air to keep itself powered.
"We need to rest here for a few days," she said. "Your soul hasn't stabilized yet."
Asari nodded. "I know."
Their campsite lay at the edge of a gentle river, surrounded by silent birch trees. Birds chirped softly, and the world finally felt alive again.
It was the first peace they'd had in weeks.
But it didn't last.
The first sign of something strange was the ripple in the water.
Then the soft sound of hurried feet.
Asari turned in an instant, hand resting on his sword.
Out from the trees stumbled a boy—ragged clothes, no shoes, and snow-dusted hair that clung to his face. He looked no older than thirteen, and in his arms, he clutched something glowing.
A small shard of Eather crystal—pale green, unstable.
The boy stopped when he saw them. His eyes were sharp despite his dirty face.
"Are you hunters?" he asked.
"No," Aicha replied gently. "Just travelers."
The boy hesitated, then stumbled forward and collapsed at the edge of their fire.
Aicha rushed over while Asari remained on guard.
"His Eather flow is chaotic," she muttered. "He's been overusing it—without any control."
Asari knelt beside the boy. "What's your name?"
The boy blinked. "Adamas."
"Where are you from?"
"Rundale," he whispered. "A village in the far north."
That name triggered something in Aicha's memory. "Wasn't that one of the places said to be wiped out during the Eather frost collapse two years ago?"
Adamas nodded weakly. "They said we were gone. But not all of us died."
"What happened?"
Adamas sat up slightly, clenching the crystal in his hands.
"They came from the mountain. Not people. Not beasts. They were… empty. Like statues that moved. They took the grown-ups. Said they were... chosen."
"Chosen by who?"
Adamas looked up, eyes filled with a quiet, cold hatred.
"The Silent Star."
Asari and Aicha exchanged a glance.
The name meant nothing to them.
But the boy said it like it was a curse.
"I ran," Adamas continued. "I kept running. I saw others—kids like me—turn into husks. The crystal helps. It keeps them away. But I think it's dying."
He held out the glowing shard.
Aicha took it and immediately frowned. "This… is mixed Eather. Natural and cursed. You shouldn't be touching it raw."
"I didn't care," Adamas said. "It kept me alive."
Asari could see it in the boy's eyes—the same shadow he'd seen in his own reflection too many times. The weight of survival. Of being forced to live when everything else died.
"You're strong," Asari said quietly. "Too strong for someone your age."
Adamas gave a small smile. "That's what I told myself. Every time I wanted to give up."
He paused, then looked between them.
"You two… you're strong, aren't you?"
Asari didn't answer.
But the silence was enough.
"I want to go back," Adamas said. "To Rundale. To the mountain. To find out what really happened. Will you take me with you?"
Aicha glanced at Asari. "He's just a kid—"
"So was I once," Asari replied.
Adamas met his gaze, and for a moment, there was understanding. No desperation. No pleading.
Just resolve.
Asari nodded slowly. "Alright, Adamas. We'll take you."
The boy exhaled for the first time in what seemed like days.
Aicha sighed. "We should've known peace wouldn't last."
"We're still in Velmara," Asari said. "Peace is a luxury."
He stood and turned toward the horizon.
North.
Where the mountain waited.
Where the Silent Star whispered.
Adamas followed his gaze.
And somewhere far beyond the trees, beneath the white peaks of the north, an ancient signal pulsed quietly beneath the earth—like a heartbeat waiting to wake.
---
"Even a shard of hope is enough to carve a new path."
— End Chapter 52 Quote