Morning mist clung low to the fields as Corvin tugged his cloak tighter around his shoulders. Eira trudged beside him, her hands jammed in her pockets, eyes darting between patches of bramble. They were heading into the woods—against every adult's advice.
"Aleron's got a fever," Corvin said, voice hushed.
"I still think this is dumb," Eira muttered. "We could've asked the herbalist to come with us."
"You heard her. Rina said it's rare. Only grows near the Stoneroot trees—deep forest."
"And we're going alone?"
Corvin nodded, determined. "He needs it."
Eira groaned but didn't stop walking. "You're lucky I like adventure."
They followed the worn hunter's path, but soon the trail narrowed into a tangle of underbrush and fog. Branches scratched their arms. The air grew cooler. Birds stopped singing.
Corvin held the herb pouch open, glancing down at the scribbled sketch the herbalist had given Rina. "Silver leaves. Star shape. Slight glow in shadow."
"Right," Eira muttered, brushing a leaf out of her hair. "Because glowing plants are just everywhere."
But then—
Corvin stopped. "There."
Nestled near a thick-rooted tree, the herb shimmered faintly in the shadow. He crouched down, carefully plucking a few stems.
Then something cracked in the woods behind them.
Eira spun. "We're not alone."
This time, it wasn't illusion or shadow—it was real. And it was charging.
A massive boar, easily twice the size of a man, tore through the underbrush. Its tusks were jagged, curved like sickles. Foam dripped from its mouth. Its eyes were yellow, wild. Mana twisted off its hide like smoke.
"Run!" Eira shouted, dragging Corvin to his feet.
They darted through the woods, stumbling over roots and sliding down muddy slopes. The boar thundered after them, smashing through saplings like brittle glass.
"This way!" Corvin gasped, pulling Eira toward a ridge. They scrambled up—but Eira slipped.
The boar crashed into the clearing, snorting. Its muscles tensed. It was going to charge again.
Corvin stepped in front of Eira.
"No!" she shouted. "You'll be crushed!"
But Corvin didn't move.
He held up a hand—not in defense, but in plea.
He closed his eyes.
Please, he thought. Please don't hurt her. Don't hurt anyone. We didn't come here to fight.
His chest burned—not with fear, but something warm, powerful, and deep.
Then—
[System Detection: Divine Potential Unlocked]
[God's Blessing: Voice of the Heart — Activated]
His body pulsed with golden light. Not bright—but steady. Calming.
The boar froze.
The wind stopped.
A silence fell, unnatural but gentle, as if the world were holding its breath.
Corvin opened his eyes.
And the boar... stepped back.
Its eyes flickered with confusion, then recognition. The rage bled out of it. The foam stopped. It turned, huffed, and slowly lumbered back into the mist.
Corvin collapsed to his knees.
Eira stared at him, breathless. "You… you stopped it."
He shook his head. "I didn't do anything."
"Yes, you did," she whispered. "You talked to it without talking."
Corvin blinked, dazed. But somewhere in his heart, something clicked into place. A quiet voice—his own—telling him he could understand more than just words.
They made it home by dusk, the herb safely tucked away. Corvin collapsed beside Aleron's crib and placed the crushed leaves under his pillow, just like the herbalist said.
"Don't get sick again," he whispered. "Please."
Eira sat nearby, cross-legged on the floor. "You're weird," she said.
Corvin smiled. "So are you."
They sat in silence, the kind only real friends shared.
In the realm beyond dreams, Aleron stirred. The mana around him pulsed in rhythm with a presence he didn't yet recognize.
The system flickered:
[Stasis Progress: 2 Years, 7 Months Remaining...]
[External Resonance Detected — Synchronicity Stable]
He smiled in his sleep.
And the fox-shaped stars above him burned just a little brighter.
The silent bond between them had only just begun.