The silver curtains swayed with the evening breeze, the faint scent of ink and lavender filling the air. Lady Elyria sat by her window, a single candle flickering beside her sketchbook. Her quill moved with measured grace, tracing the outline of a familiar face — sharp eyes, messy hair, defiance captured in soft strokes of charcoal.
Kazuo.
She hesitated for a moment, her fingers brushing against the paper as if afraid the drawing might vanish.
The door opened softly."Tea, my princess," said a gentle voice.
Elyria didn't look up. "I suppose my father sent you to watch over me again."
The young maiden smiled faintly as she set down the tray. "He's only worried about you, my lady."
Elyria's tone was distant, almost amused. "He shouldn't be."
The maiden followed her gaze and noticed the drawing upon the desk. Her eyes widened slightly. "This boy… you seem rather attached to him."
Elyria's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. "Not in a romantic way. He's simply… intriguing."
The maiden tilted her head, curiosity sparking. As she arranged the tea, her eyes caught a bundle of aged scrolls and parchments scattered beneath the sketches — marked with sigils long forgotten.
"My lady… these documents," she said carefully, brushing her fingertips over the brittle pages. "They're about the Old Faith, aren't they?"
Elyria nodded. "Yes. Something new was hidden within them."
"You're interested in the Old Faith, princess?"
"It's strange, isn't it?" Elyria mused, her voice soft but thoughtful. "We have countless records of temples and sanctuaries that should exist here in Yurelda, yet every trace of them — at least in the capital — has been erased."
The maiden hesitated. "Do you… believe in it?"
Elyria's gaze drifted to the window, where moonlight spilled across the marble floor. "I believe in curiosity. But tell me — do you believe in the Old Faith?"
"My princess," the maiden answered, lowering her eyes, "I believe in only one God. The Old Faith always seemed to me a cult formed around myths. We don't even know what exactly they worshipped."
"Many share your view," Elyria said softly. "And I understand it. But still… I can't help feeling there's truth in what they left behind."
"Forgive me, but what truth could there be in forgotten idols?"
Elyria's fingers brushed an open scroll, its ink faded but still legible. "The Old Faith never described what it worshipped. Only that it spoke of the Divine, and of the Original Four Elements: Water, Fire, Earth, and Air."
The maiden looked puzzled. "I do not follow. What connection are you speaking of?"
Elyria leaned forward, eyes glimmering with quiet intensity. "The scriptures divide their believers into four groups — one for each element. But unlike the sects of our age, they never warred against each other. That either means they respected what they worshipped…" She paused, her voice lowering to a whisper. "…or they all worshipped thesame thing."
The maiden hesitated, glancing toward the half-open window as if afraid the walls might listen.
"Nobody really knows much about the Old Faith," she said softly. "At least, that's what at least my late father tol me when I was a child. He said they worshipped idols — nothing divine, just remnants of a misguided cult. To compare that with what people believe in now would be heresy."
Elyria smiled faintly, though her eyes stayed fixed on the open parchment. "I've been researching it for a while now," she admitted. "And the deeper I dig, the less it feels like mere superstition."
The maiden frowned, unease flickering in her eyes. "You believe they worshipped one god? Princess, that would be heresy."
Elyria's expression didn't change. "Perhaps. But the more I study, the more it feels… incomplete. You said it yourself — it would be heresy to think the Old Faith served a single entity. But what if they didn't worship one?"
"Then… what are you implying?"
Elyria looked up, the candlelight reflecting in her blue eyes. "What if they worshipped four?"
The maiden froze. "Four?"
Elyria's voice lowered to a hush, reverent and sharp all at once. "You can't deny it — the Old Faith was divided by the original elements: Water, Air, Fire, and Earth. Just like the old tale of the Four Sacred Beasts. I believe there's a connection between them."
The maiden's hands trembled slightly above the parchment. "Princess… you're walking a dangerous path. Such thoughts—"
Elyria's gaze returned to the faded symbols. "Thoughts are not dangerous," she said softly. "Only truths that people aren't ready to face."
The maiden's voice dropped to a whisper. "Princess… you shouldn't speak of such things so lightly. No one knows what the Sacred Beasts were — or if they ever existed. They're old folklore, stories told to explain how magic first took form."
"Then why," she murmured, "do the old tales refer to these beasts as Sacred?"
The maiden fell silent — her lips parted, but no words came. The air in the chamber grew still.
Elyria leaned back slightly, her tone softer now, almost to herself. "It doesn't make sense, does it? Which means these probably aren't just tales." She paused, closing one of the tomes with a quiet thud. "Of course, I have no proof… and with every answer I find, more questions surface."
Her gaze falling upon the drawing of Kazuo. "But I'm determined to find out, even if it's on my own."
The water he commands… the only one in the entire capital who wields it. And then—this illustration in the Tome. The White Serpent, coiled around a broken temple, with mismatched eyes.
Is it possible… that this was the Sacred Beast of Water? Perhaps even the one worshipped by the followers of the Old Faith?
Her gaze lingered on the page, unease stirring beneath her calm exterior.Then why… after centuries of silence, would a man with Water Magic suddenly appear in this age?Could it be that he was part of it somehow? Or am I simply reading too much into it?
"Your Highness?"
The voice drew her back. The maiden stood beside the desk. "You stare at this young man quite often. He is indeed a powerful magic user—and the one who won the tournament. Will you be attending the Winner's Ceremony?"
Elyria straightened, her tone composed again. "Yes… I will."
She glanced once more at the drawing. "But for now, I'd like to be alone."
The maiden bowed gracefully and withdrew, the sound of her footsteps fading into the marble hall.
Elyria remained still, the candlelight flickering across her closed eyes.
She looked out at the night sky, her reflection pale in the glass.
Kazuo... Just who are you?
The question lingered in the still air as the candle flickered, its flame bowing to the draft that slipped through the window. For a brief moment, the light dimmed—then went out, leaving the chamber swallowed by quiet.
Elsewhere in the palace, a different flame burned.
The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting long shadows across the marble floor. The scent of oak and smoke lingered in the air — warm, yet heavy.
King Cedric sat before the flames, a glass of amber wine untouched beside him. The door creaked open, and the same young maiden stepped in, bowing low.
"Well?" His voice was calm, almost indifferent.
"She was researching again, Your Majesty," the maiden said quietly. "The Old Faith. She's been going through every record she can find."
Cedric didn't turn his gaze from the fire. "And did she find anything worth mentioning?"
"She only suspects a connection," the maiden answered. "Between the Old Faith and the Four Sacred Beasts. And…" — she hesitated — "I believe she's trying to determine whether that young man, Kazuo, has something to do with it."
Cedric's head inclined slightly, the firelight gleaming across his golden eyes. "I see. Continue observing her. Keep your distance."
"Your Majesty, with respect," the maiden began carefully, "if she continues, it could become dangerous—"
Cedric's tone sharpened, cutting through her words like a blade. "This matter does not belong to you. It's mine. You'll do only what I told you."
The maiden bowed at once, her voice trembling. "Yes, Your Majesty."
When the door closed behind her, the chamber fell quiet again except for the soft hiss of burning wood. Cedric leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on the dancing flames.
"My dear daughter…" he murmured. "You won't be able to find anything. Not anything that matters."
His reflection wavered in the firelight — the image of a man who had long since mastered the art of silence.
"But perhaps you're right. Perhaps your curiosity will bring me closer to what I truly need — the truth behind that boy's eyes."
He exhaled slowly, resting his hand against the armrest. "This way, I needn't waste my own time or draw suspicion. You can chase the ghosts for me."
A faint, cold smile touched his lips. "Choice or illusion… either way, the game remains mine to control."
The fire flared once more, casting a brief, golden glow over the sigil carved into the wall behind him — the emblem of the Crown, steady and unyielding.
Then the flames settled, and the king sat alone with the quiet hum of burning embers — the sound of a ruler who believed even knowledge could be ruled.