(768 AE - 30 years after the Valkar War)
The sun dipped lower behind the jagged peaks of the Jaffalex Mountains, casting elongated shadows across the valley floor. The three travelers moved cautiously between the towering crystal-studded cliffs, their steps slow and deliberate on the uneven terrain. It had been hours since they arrived through the ritual circle, and hunger was already beginning to gnaw at them.
Char pulled his cloak tighter around himself, feeling the chill of the high-altitude air seeping through his clothing.They had no real supplies—no food, no extra water, no maps. The only thing guiding them was Mira's knowledge of the Ascension Stones, the mysterious artifacts said to be hidden somewhere deep within these mountains.
And even then, that knowledge was only half certain.
Behind him, Merrick trudged along with an exaggerated huff, his arms crossed in an almost childlike display of irritation. "Unbelievable. Just unbelievable," he muttered under his breath for what had to be the tenth time in an hour. "I was kidnapped, beaten, nearly killed, and then I teleported here with no warning. And now, I'm hiking through cursed mountains like a common wanderer."
Char exhaled sharply through his nose but didn't respond. He understood Merrick's frustration, but right now, his patience was wearing thin. The magician had been sulking ever since they left the cavern, and they didn't have the energy to waste on complaints.
Mira, walking beside Char, shot her brother an annoyed glance. "You're alive, aren't you?" she said. "Maybe try being grateful for once in your life?"
Merrick scowled. "Grateful? Grateful for what, exactly? The bruises? The humiliation? Or maybe the fact that I now have to rely on a half-starved swordsman and my kid sister to survive?"
"Hey," Char finally said, his voice flat, "I've had just as bad a time as you."
Merrick snorted. "Oh, really? Have you been thrown into a basement, gagged and tied while some bastard debated whether or not to gut you like a fish? No? Then forgive me if I'm not enthusiastic about our wonderful little expedition."
Char clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to snap back. He was exhausted, both physically and mentally, and Merrick's whining wasn't helping.
But before he could think of a response, Mira spoke again, her voice sharper now. "You know what, Merrick? Fine. If you want to keep feeling sorry for yourself, go ahead. But the rest of us? We're actually trying to do something."
The magician opened his mouth to retort but then seemed to think better of it. With a dramatic sigh, he threw his arms up in defeat and stomped ahead of them, clearly determined to walk in silence for a while.
That left just Char and Mira walking side by side, the air between them suddenly much quieter.
And far more awkward.
Char risked a glance at her, only to find her quickly looking away. Ever since she kissed him earlier, something between them had shifted. He could still feel the warmth of her lips against his cheek, still remember the way she had hugged him so tightly as if trying to hold him together.
It wasn't that he was uncomfortable with it. He just didn't know what to do with it.
Before coming to this world, romance had been something he had only ever written about. Love stories, flirty interactions, unspoken tension between characters—he had crafted them a hundred times before. But now? Now that he was living inside a world of his own creation?
Now that the story wasn't something he could control?
It was strange.
Mira cleared her throat softly, drawing his attention. "So… uh… about earlier."
Char felt his chest tighten slightly. "Earlier?"
She hesitated, then quickly shook her head. "Never mind. Forget it."
Char wasn't sure whether he wanted to press the issue or just let it fade into the background. A part of him—the part that felt uncertain and inexperienced—wanted to pretend the kiss had never happened. But another part of him, a deeper part, knew that he couldn't ignore it forever.
Instead, he settled for an awkward, "Oh. Okay."
Mira let out a small laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. "Gods, we're hopeless."
Char gave a faint smile. "Yeah."
They continued walking in silence for a while, the distant sound of crystals humming in the wind filling the space between them.
As much as Char wanted to focus on the mission—finding food, surviving, tracking down the Ascension Stones—he couldn't stop his mind from circling back to Mira.
He had known her for only a few days. And yet, she had fought beside him. She had believed in him. She had stood by him even when she had every reason to abandon him and Merrick.
He barely even knew what his own feelings were.
Affection? Admiration? A simple connection between two people thrown together by fate?
Or was it something more?
Char shook his head, frustrated at himself. Now wasn't the time for this. He had too much to worry about—Benjamin's sacrifice, the journey ahead, the dangers they were bound to face.
And yet, for the first time in a long time, the thought of someone liking him—of someone caring for him—was something he couldn't just push away.
*
Merrick's sudden cry of alarm shattered the fragile silence.
Char and Mira tensed, their instincts flaring to life. Had something happened?
Without hesitation, they both broke into a sprint, rushing through the uneven valley path toward the sound of Merrick's voice. The sharp wind cut through Char's cloak, stirring the crystalline dust beneath his feet as he leaped over a jagged rock.
His pulse hammered in his ears. Were they under attack? Had Flint's men somehow tracked them through the mountains?
But when they skidded to a stop near Merrick, they didn't find an enemy waiting for them.
Instead, standing a few feet away, clutching a woven basket full of small, frost-covered fruits, was a child.
A very peculiar child.
Char's breath hitched.
White hair. Blue-tinged skin. Glowing yellow eyes.
The sight of her sent a jolt through his entire being. He knew exactly what she was.
A Valkari.
One of the very people he had spent hours detailing in his writing. One of the lost children of the North, descendants of the old Valkar Kingdom.
Merrick, still breathing hard from his earlier fright, pointed an accusing finger at the girl. "What in all the hells is this?"
The child flinched, her bright golden eyes flickering with fear. She took a hesitant step backward, clutching the basket to her chest.
Mira exhaled sharply. "Merrick, you're scaring her."
Merrick turned toward her, wild-eyed. "Scaring her? She just appeared out of nowhere like a ghost! I thought—" He huffed, rubbing his temples. "Gods, I don't even know what I thought."
Char swallowed hard, his mind racing. Of course he recognized the child's features immediately. He had written about them. He had shaped their history, their culture, their struggles.
But he couldn't just say that.
So he forced a look of calm curiosity onto his face, pretending to examine her like this was the first time he had ever seen anything like her before. "She's… a Valkari," he said slowly. "You've heard the stories, right?"
Mira gave him a skeptical glance but didn't question it.
Merrick, however, snorted. "Of course I've heard the stories. Everyone has. But seeing one? That's different."
The child's tiny fingers tightened around her basket. Her eyes darted between them, wide and wary.
Char could feel the tension hanging in the air, delicate as a thread ready to snap. They couldn't scare her off. If she ran, they might lose their only chance at finding shelter—or even just food.
Then, to Char's complete and utter shock, Merrick took a cautious step forward and spoke.
In fluent Valkari.
The unfamiliar syllables rolled off his tongue smoothly, like water slipping over stone. It was a guttural yet rhythmic language, woven with sharp consonants and deep vowels.
The little girl's glowing eyes widened.
For a long, stunned moment, nobody spoke.
Then, in a small, hesitant voice, she responded.
Mira's mouth fell open. "You—you speak Valkari?"
Merrick let out an irritated sigh. "Not well, but enough." He shot a glare at them. "What? I am a magician. I had to study ancient languages. Valkari just happened to be one of them."
"But it was outlawed," Char pointed out, feigning mild surprise to cover his actual shock. Where the hell had Merrick learned that?
Merrick shrugged. "Well, I didn't ask for permission."
Char turned back to the girl, who was now staring at Merrick with something akin to wonder.
Merrick muttered something else in Valkari, and after a brief hesitation, the girl nodded.
"She says she has a village nearby," Merrick translated. "She'll take us there."
Char felt something uncoil in his chest. Food. Water. Shelter. They wouldn't have to spend the night wandering the valleys, half-starved and exhausted.
"Great," Mira said, clearly relieved. "Let's go before we lose the light."
With one last wary glance, the child turned on her heel and started walking, her small frame weaving through the rocky terrain with practiced ease.
As the three of them followed, Char found his gaze lingering on her.
A Valkari child. Living in the Jaffalex Mountains.
Even after everything he had seen and done, this was the first time he truly felt like he had stepped into his own world.