The transition from the Emerald Jungle to the borderlands of Oakhaven was not a line on a map; it was a fading of the air itself.
Inside the jungle, the mana was so thick it felt like breathing silk. Outside, it was thin, dry, and tasted of dust. Kael stopped at the treeline, his boots resting on the verge where the glowing moss died and the brown, trampled dirt of a trade road began. He took a deep breath, feeling the Stasis Ring on his finger hum as it worked overtime to anchor his internal mana core. Without it, he felt like a pressurized steam engine about to burst in a vacuum.
"The world is... quiet," he whispered to himself.
He walked for three hours before he saw the first sign of human habitation: a squat, stone-and-timber building with a swinging wooden sign. The Rusty Lantern.
It wasn't the majestic castle he had imagined from Elara's stories. It was a grimy, loud, and smelly place that sat at the intersection of two dirt paths. To Kael, however, it was a marvel. He had never seen so many humans in one place.
As he pushed open the heavy oak door, the conversation inside died down. A dozen pairs of eyes tracked him. Kael didn't look like a local. He wore a cloak of deep forest green, and though his clothes were simple, they were made of a sturdy, unknown fiber that didn't hold a single speck of trail dust.
He walked toward the bar, his heart hammering against his ribs.
"A seat?" Kael asked, his voice cracking slightly from disuse.
The bartender, a man with a nose that had been broken at least three times, grunted and gestured to a stool. "Seat's free. Privacy costs a copper. Ale is two."
Kael reached into his pouch and pulled out a coin. It was heavy, minted from pure, deep-vein gold, and stamped with the profile of a king who had been dead for six hundred years.
The bartender's eyes nearly bulged out of his head. He snatched the coin, biting it to check its purity. "Where'd a kid like you get ancient gold?"
"My mother," Kael said simply.
A group of men at a corner table—mercenaries by the look of their notched swords and leather armor—exchanged glances. Kael didn't notice. He was too busy watching a small, blue flame dancing atop a candle on the bar.
A young man in a grey robe was sitting a few stools down, sweat beading on his forehead as he held his hand over the candle. Behind him, a single, faint, shimmering ring of mana flickered in the air. A 1-Ring Novice.
The ring was shaky, blurred at the edges, and leaked mana like a cracked jar.
"Focus, Pips," an older man in a similar robe barked. "Keep the circle tight or you'll singe your eyebrows again."
Kael watched, fascinated. Is that a 1-Ring spell? he wondered. Elara had taught him that a 1-Ring spark should be able to melt iron if the runes were aligned correctly. This boy looked like he was struggling to keep a campfire alive.
Suddenly, the front door burst open. Two men carried a third between them, his leg wrapped in a blood-soaked rag.
"Healer! Is there a Healer here?" one of them yelled.
The older man in the grey robe stood up, his chest puffing out. He had two rings—a 2-Ring Adept. "Step aside. I am an initiate of the Oakhaven Medical Guild."
Kael watched as the Adept knelt by the injured man. The wound was deep—a jagged tear from a forest cat's claw. The Adept began to chant, his two rings glowing a dull, murky green.
"Suture!" the Adept commanded.
The mana moved sluggishly. It closed the skin, but Kael's eyes, trained in the Healing Arts, saw the disaster beneath the surface. The muscle wasn't aligned. The infection was already being sealed inside the leg. In three days, the limb would rot.
"You're doing it wrong," Kael said.
The tavern went silent again. The Adept looked up, his face flushing red with anger. "Excuse me, boy? I studied at the Academy for six years."
"The mana is stagnant," Kael said, stepping closer. He forgot his own advice to stay low-profile. The sight of a botched healing was like hearing a beautiful song played out of tune. "You've trapped the necrotic energy in the femoral vein. If you don't flush the humors, he'll lose the leg by the weekend."
"And what would a jungle brat know?" the Adept sneered. "Go back to your berries."
Kael didn't argue. He simply reached out.
The Stasis Ring glowed white, straining to hold back the flood. Kael allowed only a tiny trickle of his mana to pass through.
One golden ring materialized behind Kael's hand. To the onlookers, it looked like a simple 1-Ring spell. But the ring was perfect. It wasn't a blurry circle; it was a geometric masterpiece of razor-sharp runes that rotated with the precision of a clockwork engine.
Kael didn't chant. He didn't need to. He placed his thumb over the man's wound.
"Purge. Realign. Close."
The golden light didn't just stitch the skin; it flowed into the man's body like liquid sunlight. The black, poisoned blood was forced out of the wound, sizzling as it hit the floor. The muscle fibers knit together in a perfect weave. Within seconds, the skin closed, leaving nothing but a faint, silvery line.
The injured man gasped, sitting up. "The pain... it's gone. It's completely gone!"
The Adept stared at Kael's hand, then at the perfect, glowing ring that was slowly fading. "No chant? No reagents? Who... what are you?"
Kael realized his mistake the moment he saw the greed and suspicion in the room. The mercenaries were standing up. The bartender was looking at the ancient gold coin again.
"I'm just a traveler," Kael said, pulling his hood up.
He turned to leave, but a hand caught his shoulder. It wasn't a mercenary. It was a young man with messy brown hair and a smile that seemed to radiate genuine warmth. He was dressed in travel-stained merchant's clothes, but his eyes were sharp and observant.
"That was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, friend," the young man said. "And I've seen a lot of things. My name is Sam. Sam Willer."
Kael looked at the hand on his shoulder, then into Sam's eyes. For the first time since Elara died, Kael felt a spark of connection.
"Kael," he replied.
"Well, Kael," Sam said, leaning in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I'd suggest we leave through the back door. Those gentlemen at the corner table are currently debating whether to rob you or kidnap you. And frankly, I'd rather you stay in one piece. We could do great things together, you and I."
Kael looked at the mercenaries, then back at the smiling merchant. He didn't know then that this was the moment his life would truly end. He didn't know that this smile was more dangerous than any beast in the Emerald Jungle.
"Okay," Kael said. "Lead the way."
And together, the Light and the Traitor stepped out into the evening mist.