As they neared the Whispering Woods, the air grew stranger. The world grew darker—not because of the night, but because the trees themselves had grown denser, their silver leaves overlapping until the sunlight filtered through and became cold, shimmering strands. Lira's steps remained quick, though her eyes kept moving, searching for danger.
The boy—still nameless, still trembling—followed as best he could.
His wound trembled, though it felt strange whenever they passed under ancient, arching branches or near rocks marked with elven runes. The forest seemed to breathe around her… even her pulse.
He tried not to think about it.
But something else was stirring him—an ache at the back of her skull, like memories piercing through a locked door.
He backed away.
Lira stopped short. "Is your injury getting worse?"
"No… it's something else." He pressed a hand to his forehead. "It's like… voices. Memories. I can't say."
Lira frowned. "Describe them."
"Flashes… a throne room with banners. A man shouting orders. A woman shouting my name—I think it's my name. Then darkness." She took a deep breath. "And fire. Always fire."
Lira's expression narrowed. "Your past may catch up with you faster than I expected."
Elven Wards
The path narrowed, winding around two large silverwood trees whose trunks twisted together like former lovers. Their bark glowed faintly, carved by spells older than human history.
As they passed between them, the air shimmered with a faint sound.
"What was that?" he asked, startled.
"Elven wards" Lira explained. "Anyone tainted by dark magic will be burned or banished the moment they cross."
"And not me."
"No," she said softly. "You pass as if the trees welcome you."
He didn't answer.
Lira glanced at him from the corner of his eyes. "The forest thinks you belong here."
"Does that mean I'm… part elf?" he asked.
She shook her head. "No. Your ears are unmistakably human, and your blood is like—" She cut herself off. "Don't think about it."
He stared at him. "How does my blood feel?"
"Pure," she admitted reluctantly. "Unaffected by darkness or corruption. It's not common among humans."
He swallowed. "You say that as if it's dangerous."
"Yes." She adjusted his grip, pulling her up a slope of roots. "Purity attracts attention. Especially from those who destroy purity for their own purposes."
Her meaning was clear: someone wanted him for who he was—not just who.
Signs of the Dead
The forest suddenly stirred. The ground sank into a hollow filled with tangled brambles and dark earth. Lira stopped, raising a hand for silence. The boy stiffened behind her.
A sickening smell hung in the air—rotting flesh, old metal, damp earth.
Lira knelt, shaking off a piece of leaf. Beneath them lay a skeletal hand, charred and cracked. Its fingers curled unnaturally, as if reaching for something even in death.
"Another guard?" he asked.
"Nothing. Something else." Her voice tightened. "It's been dead for days—killed by magic. Strong magic."
His throat went dry. "Mine?"
"No. This magic has a different smell—sharp, cold, twisted." She stood up, his eyes glaring. "The Abyssal Dominion is moving aggressively. Too aggressively."
"What is the Abyssal Dominion?" he asked, a creeping dread in his voice.
"A remnant of an ancient empire," Lira replied. "Long forgotten. They lead immortal soldiers, corrupt monsters, and worse." Her grip on her bow tightened. "If they're back… the world is in danger."
He shivered. "And if it's me they're after…"
"Then the world is in greater danger than I thought."
Crest awakens
They continued walking, but the atmosphere changed; a sense of urgency hung between them like a tight rope.
As they crossed another shimmering stream, the boy felt a tug near his heart. Instinctively he reached for the crest.
It tingled against his skin.
Lira noticed immediately and turned to him. "What is that?"
"It's hot… this," he said. "It's like it's reacting to something nearby."
"Show me."
He lifted the chain, revealing the symbol. The lion's head glowed—brighter than ever. The ring of stars surrounding it glowed with a soft white light.
Lira took a deep breath. "By the Spirits…"
"What does this mean?"
She took a half step back, stunned.
"That symbol is a remnant of Dorotheou's royal line," she said. "But it's said that the royal family died when the kingdom was lost. No one survived."
He frowned. "What do you mean, lost? How can a kingdom be lost?"
"That's the point," she said. "No one knows. Its halls are empty. Its streets are deserted. The land… is empty. It's as if its people were wiped out in an instant."
"That can't be true," she whispered. "An entire kingdom?"
"Dorotheou is not like the others," she added, her voice low. "Some say they are blessed by the Guardians. Others whisper that they hide a terrible secret."
He gripped the symbol tightly.
"And I am from there?"
Lira hesitated, then met his eyes.
"I do not know if you are the lost prince... but you certainly carry something the world believes is lost forever."
Dream Memories
When they finally stopped to rest, the child collapsed onto a smooth white rock. The forest hummed around him, a soft lullaby.
Lira crouched nearby, watching him with a mixture of caution and reluctance.
"You need to rest," she said. "We have less than an hour before nightfall. The forest changes after dark."
He nodded, closing his eyes.
For a moment, there was only darkness.
Then—
**A throne room made of silver marble.
A man with sharp eyes holding a sword.
A woman with hair like starlight reaching out to him.
A boy—himself—standing on a balcony overlooking a golden city.
A huge shadow covering the sky.
A voice shouting his name—**
YUEHAN!
The name rang out to him like a bolt of lightning.
His eyes suddenly widened. He gasped.
Lira immediately came closer. "What happened?"
He pressed a hand to his chest. "I remembered... a name."
"Whose name?"
His own voice seemed to have a strange feel as he said it.
"Yuehan," he whispered. "My name... is Yuehan."
Lira stared at him for a long moment.
Then she nodded once—slowly and seriously.
"Yuehan," she repeated. "Then we'll take you home, Yuehan—whatever home means these days."