Oregon's presence was overwhelming—almost tangible. It carried an authority that transcended mere power.
His silver eyes locked onto mine, piercing deep, as if he could see not just my body, but the very essence of who I was.
Beside me, Holumis stiffened. Her fingers twitched—a barely perceptible motion, but I caught it.
"Oregon," she said, her voice softer now, tinged with caution.
He remained silent at first. His gaze swept over Vlad, then Dylan, then Xander—lingering on each of them with quiet, unreadable scrutiny. Finally, his attention returned to me.
"You have made a mistake," he said. His voice was deep and smooth, like a river stone worn by time, yet carrying the weight of centuries.
A chill prickled down my spine.
A flicker of something—amusement, perhaps—danced in his silver eyes before vanishing like mist.
"You tore the veil between worlds when the right thing to do was to leave it untouched."
Instinctively, I glanced at my wrist. The bracelet still dangled between my fingers.
The coldness that had seeped into my bones since stepping into this realm had not faded. If anything, it was spreading—like frost creeping over glass, claiming me inch by inch.
Vlad stepped closer, his dark irises gleaming in the dim light.
"And yet, we are here for a reason."
Oregon's gaze flicked toward him, impassive. Then, after a long, measured pause, he exhaled softly.
"I know."
Holumis turned to her brother, her expression firm.
"She seeks the City of the Forgotten."
At that, Oregon's jaw tightened. His next words came slow, deliberate.
"May I know the reason why?"
I straightened. "I'll explain."
His silver eyes studied me, narrowing slightly.
"You should understand—we do not welcome outsiders. And the City of the Forgotten is not just a city."
I opened my mouth, but Holumis spoke first.
"Oregon, can you just forget this ever happened? For once? Let them go. I can feel that this woman is… different."
A long silence stretched between us. Oregon tilted his head slightly, his gaze sharp and unreadable.
Then, after a moment, he murmured, "Indeed."
His tone held something almost wary.
"But the city you seek does not welcome the living," he continued.
"I think you'll find that the definition of 'living' is complicated when it comes to her," Vlad mused, a faint smirk playing on his lips.
Oregon ignored him. His attention remained solely on me.
"If you enter, there is no guarantee you will leave."
Something in his voice sent another ripple of unease through me. But I had already come too far to turn back now. If I failed to finish this mission, I would die anyway.
"No matter what, I have to go there," I said simply.
Oregon studied me again, as if weighing something unseen. Then, without warning, he reached forward and placed a palm against my forehead.
A rush of warmth flooded through me, stark against the unnatural chill of this realm. It was soothing yet probing, as though his touch peeled back unseen layers of my being.
His silver eyes softened just slightly.
"You are not what I expected," he murmured.
"What are you, truly?"
I met his gaze without wavering.
"The prophecy says I carry the blood of the Prime Apex. I have a mission to complete if I am to fully awaken."
Oregon didn't speak immediately, but his expression darkened with suspicion. Holumis, standing beside him, frowned as if turning my words over in her mind.
"It's up to you whether you believe it or not," I added.
A muscle in Oregon's jaw twitched.
"I have heard of the Prime Apex before. My great-grandmother spoke of it—but that was long ago."
He exhaled slowly, then, after a long pause, said, "Then you must meet our leader."
I hesitated, glancing at Vlad. He was the only one who could hear our conversation.
Vlad gave me a small nod.
"Don't worry. If anything happens, I'm here."
Oregon turned to Vlad, his expression unreadable.
"No worries. We mean no harm. But understand this—we do not welcome trespassers."
His gaze flicked back to me.
"You, however, are an exception."
A flicker of relief passed through me.
"Thank you," I said, genuinely grateful.
For a brief moment, I thought I saw Oregon smile—just slightly.
Something told me he might not be as unyielding as he first appeared.
Taking a steadying breath, I asked, "Oregon, my other two friends can't see you. Is there a way to change that?"
"They don't need to." His response was immediate, firm.
"But—" I pressed.
"They're part of this journey. They need to know everything."
His silver gaze sharpened.
"You believe they are important enough to hear this conversation?"
I nodded. "Yes."
Oregon remained silent for a long moment. I couldn't tell what he was thinking, but the air around us grew heavier, as if the very atmosphere shifted with his contemplation.
Then, with a quiet sigh, he exhaled.
"Fine. Just because I trust you."
I straightened.
"So there is a way?"
He gave a slow nod.
I turned toward Xander and Dylan.
"Brace yourselves, guys."
Oregon reached into the folds of his robe and pulled out a small pouch made of dark, woven fabric.
With effortless grace, he moved toward Xander—though to Xander, he was nothing but a whisper of air.
The next moment, Xander jerked back.
"What the—?!" His hand flew to his head.
Oregon had just plucked a single strand of his hair.
He repeated the motion with Dylan.
Dylan let out a low growl.
"What's going on?"
"You'll see soon enough," I said.
Oregon placed both strands into the pouch and muttered something under his breath. The language was unfamiliar—perhaps Elvish.
It was lilting yet commanding, as though the very air trembled with the power of his words.
Then, he shook the pouch gently and, with a practiced motion, sprinkled the contents over Xander and Dylan.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then—
Xander inhaled sharply, his entire body tensing. His pupils dilated as he staggered back a step.
Dylan sucked in a sharp breath, his hand instinctively going to his chest, his eyes darting wildly as if adjusting to a new reality.
They could see them.
Oregon. Holumis. The unseen figures lurked just beyond the veil.
Xander's jaw tightened. His voice was low, wary.
"So this is Elven territory?"
Dylan's gaze flicked between Oregon and Holumis, his muscles still rigid, his wolf instincts on high alert.
Vlad remained silent, observing.
Oregon and Holumis exchanged a glance, neither responding immediately. Then, a faint smirk crossed Oregon's lips.
Far from being a typical elf, Oregon possessed an unexpected ability—though I couldn't shake the feeling that, despite his overwhelming presence, he looked much too young.
Then, suddenly, he moved.
"Come, all of you. Follow me. We're going to meet our leader."