At the Umbral Wilds
Four days ago…
The Umbral Wilds dominated half of Othre, the seventh continent. Yet, for all its size, only 37% had ever been mapped, and the rest remained a mystery.
The deeper one ventured, the stranger the land became.
Trees stood older than recorded history. Rivers ran black under the moonlight. Creatures not bound by imagination claimed the land as their territory.
Few who entered ever returned.
Fewer still spoke of what they saw.
In the middle of the explored region, a woman stood covered with blood. Before her lay the lifeless body of a young black wyvern.
Hff…
With a soft, deep breath, she turned around.
She looked at the man behind her that was too frail-looking for such a savage environment.
"What do fifteen-year-olds usually want?"
"Pardon?"
"For their birthday."
The man blinked as he was caught off guard. But as he met her unblinking stare, he understood what and who she meant.
"Opening their first Zaen Gate, Lady Eden. That's what most children dream of."
"…."
The woman did not respond.
Step.
She merely took a step forward and raised her sword.
In an instant, the deformed hyenas gnawing at the wyvern's corpse were cut down as their bodies fell without a sound.
***
In the Training Ground
Seven lay unconscious on Eden's lap.
The training took everything and drained him beyond his limits.
Eden gently brushed snowflakes from his hair and hummed a lullaby in a soft and quiet tune.
"La la la la la~"
She continued to hum a lullaby for more than a minute as she looked down at his frail body.
Wearing him down was a necessary precaution.
Opening the first gate was dangerous. If he were awake, his mind would be forced to process not only the foreign energy flooding his body but also his surroundings such as the sounds, the sensations, and the primal instinct to fight back.
His body could reject the Zaen outright.
And rejection meant failure.
Failure meant his veins could rupture from the sudden surge of power and his veins could burst from his insides.
It meant death.
But exhaustion made rejection less likely. With his body at rest, all of his subconscious focus would be directed inward and specifically toward adapting to the Zaen instead of resisting it.
It was a method that only a few individuals know based on their first-hand experiences.
Hff…
Eden took a slow breath as she tried to calm down herself.
Then, she placed her hands over his chest and right just above his heart.
A soft, cyan light pulsed from her fingertips.
The process had begun.
She guided the Zaen from her core into Seven's body.
Cra Crackle!
But a sharp resistance snapped back like a door being forced shut from the other side.
Seven's body twitched. His fingers curled. His breathing turned ragged.
His body was rejecting it.
Eden's eyes narrowed.
She did not say a word, but her gaze said both of her frustration and confusion.
After all, she really did everything to help. She prepared him, exhausted him, and made sure he was as receptive as possible.
Cra Crackle!
Another resistance.
The glow of her Zaen flickered. Beneath her hands, Seven's heartbeat pounded erratically. Normally, she would be able to keep her composure.
But now that her younger brother's life was at stake, she could not help but panic inwardly.
If this continued and if his body refused to accept her Zaen, then it would tear him apart from the inside.
Eden clenched her jaw.
Hff…
She exhaled slowly, then leaned down and pressed her forehead lightly against his.
"Sleep now, little ember, the night is so long…
"Rest, my dear star, and shine ever strong."
It was an old lullaby.
Their mother had sung it once, long ago.
And as the words left her lips, Seven's breathing slowed and the tension in his body eased.
Eden took the chance.
This time, she gently coaxed Zaen into the traces of energy that already existed within him. Rather than overwhelming his core, she let the energy flow in sync with his natural rhythm.
Now, there was no crackle.
There was no resistance.
Instead, a sharp snap rang through the air as Seven's body convulsed. A final pulse of energy surged outward and bathed him in cyan light before settling into his skin.
Eden held her breath.
Seven's fingers curled slightly, then relaxed.
His breathing steadied.
His heartbeat slowed to a calm and even rhythm.
"It worked."
Eden whispered and relaxed her shoulders.
***
In the Training Ground.
"Huffff…"
Seven groaned as he woke up.
It was finally the dawn of the next day, where the sun was just barely rising from the east.
He stretched his arms.
Then, he frowned.
His body… felt strange.
Lighter.
Still groggy, he pushed himself up. His gaze wandered over the empty grounds, taking in the familiar stone pillars and training dummies.
But there was one presence missing.
Eden.
She was not anywhere in sight.
The thought of her dragging him to the brink of exhaustion only to abandon him here overnight left a sense of irritation.
'Did she not care enough to even wake me up?'
'Or was this part of the so-called "training"?'
But before he could dwell on it, he focused on the maid, Iria, who walked towards her while balancing a tray in her hands. Atop it rested a porcelain cup.
Step.
"Oh my! You're awake, Young Lord? I was just about to wake you up."
"Hah. You should've done it sooner."
"I apologize, Young Lord. Lady Eden instructed me not to wake you.
"She departed just a few minutes ago.
"Ah! And she left some things in your room, but—
Her words trailed off into background noise.
Seven was not listening anymore. Instead, his gaze was locked on the tea.
Selverin tea.
Without thinking, he reached forward.
Crack!
But the cup shattered the instant his fingers touched the handle.
Iria instinctively took a step back, her wide eyes flickering between the broken pieces and his hand. For a fleeting second, she looked almost afraid that the tea would touch her.
Then, she quickly composed herself.
"M-My apologies, Young Lord! I must've brought a fragile cup.
"I'll fetch a towel immediately."
She turned and rushed toward the mansion, leaving Seven alone with the spilled tea.
He stared at his trembling fingers as a faint cyan glow flickered across his skin.
Zaen.
His gaze lowered to his wrist.
He looked at his wrist and saw a white bracelet tattooed in it.
"It… was not a dream?"