By the time Rian was done releasing everyone, he returned to where the boy was—but he found no one.

  He needed to ask for directions to get back home; things could get ugly... real ugly.

  He was the new-generation World Tree Guardian, not some random elf who could get kidnapped.

  And there was also something else starting to get on his nerves...

  A human child refused to return with the others. She kept saying,

  'What am I supposed to do about this situation? Take you where? Do you even know where we are?' Rian screamed internally but couldn't say it out loud, unwilling to ruin his image.

  His mood, which had briefly returned to normal, began turning foul again.

  'Where did that terrakin and ule go? Ugh, damn it... What am I even doing here? Should I just wait until someone comes to pick me up?' His thoughts raced, but there was nothing he could do.

  'Maybe I should've learned Tracing Arts back then?' He shook his head; how far could he trace, anyway, to be able to return?!

  His thoughts flowed agonizingly sharp; he felt as though his head would split apart. This situation was too stressful for him.

  The young girl kept staring and following him around with her hazel eyes. She looked like... a slave—not someone kidnapped to be sold as one, but a genuine slave. The cuff marks on her small hands and feet were undeniable.

  Her features were cute, like any other child's, but her eyes betrayed her age, looking heavy with life's burdens. Her long, messy hair had a unique appearance, like a burning flame. The ends of her black hair turned fiery red.

  Rian had never heard of such a trait. Then again, he didn't know much about human society. He had only come for a certain event he'd been invited to—but it turned out to be a trash gathering that ended with his kidnap by slave traders. Disgraceful. Disgusting.

  Far away from Rian, the terrakin carried the boy through the forest, following a complex route between trees, across the river stream, and beyond the inner swamp. The boy's hair now was pure white.

  The ule roamed above, gliding silently as it followed the terrakin. They crossed a great distance, but the boy was still asleep—peacefully.

  The terrakin carried him in the most comfortable way possible, moving carefully so as not to interrupt his rest.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Holding him gently.

  Emotions... they were complicated. They were born from time, familiarity, circumstances, and understanding.

  They had nothing in common, yet they only had each other.

  The terrakin, too, had once received such kindness but chose to stay behind, refusing to burden the one who had shown him such care.

  At the end of their journey stood a cliff—or rather, an abyss. It looked obvious... like a route for the dead to never reincarnate.

  The terrakin had acted on impulse; the ule hadn't rejected his intentions. Perhaps they were bored with their lives and sought some kind of change. But now, it didn't matter.

  The cliff was horrifying, an endless abyss, but the terrakin and ule knew of a cave beyond.

  The terrakin didn't hesitate. He simply stepped into the abyss and disappeared—only to reappear in a small cave.

  From the inside, it resembled a study. There was a single box on a wooden desk.

  On the ceiling were intersecting rune-like symbols. Behind the desk was a mark—unsettling yet majestic.

  A perfectly circular snake biting its own tail, bronze or copper in color. Inside the circle were glass-like shards. Beyond the glass seemed to lie an endless abyss of darkness.

  It was just an engraving on the wall, behind the desk. There was no real glass or copper. No actual darkness beyond the shards, either.

  And yet, the engraving gave off a sense of reverence and awe.

  The box on the desk also bore the same mark.

  The boy opened his eyes slowly. He felt comfortable, thinking he was already dead. Looking up, he saw the terrakin—half its size, which made him believe that they both had died for a moment before the ule flew to his shoulder, picking his head with enough force to bring him back to reality.

  Now awake, his thoughts were in shambles, but his first intact thought was disbelief. He couldn't understand how he survived. It didn't make any sense. He also felt the warmth of the terrakin's fur, giving him a slight sense of belonging and peace.

  He had completely forgotten about the terrakin's power, which he had witnessed before passing out.

  The terrakin now... looked smaller... less than half its original four-meter-tall height. Its eyes were gentle.

  If it didn't change its size—or, rather, return to its real size—it wouldn't have been able to enter this room.

  After the boy rested for a bit, he stood up on his own feet, still feeling that everything was unreal.

  The first thing to catch his eyes was the snake symbol. He felt hypnotized, unable to divert his gaze, feeling awe, but also fear. The fear in his heart kept growing as he started at the darkness.

  He couldn't help thinking that he could forever lose himself in the abyss beyond that glass.

  He stood frozen in place, he couldn't move, think or even scream.

  The ule, on the desk, gently hooted.

  Shivering, he finally managed to avert his gaze, sweat trickling down his forehead.

  He couldn't understand what had actually happened. What was that symbol?

  He looked up at the terrakin; only then did he see the markings on the ceiling. He gasped.

  This... was too beautiful. It was his first time seeing anything like this.

  Words, incomprehensible, were flowing rhythmically, intersecting endlessly.

  Like a star in the sky, but no star ever looked that close... or this beautiful.

  He couldn't understand what it was.

  That's when he looked back at the ule and finally noticed the box.

  He looked at the ule with a questioning gaze. The ule placed one of its feet in the box, tapping it with its claw.

  The boy stood, walking the very few steps to open the box, eager to understand what this place actually was.