The night felt endlessly long after Arka's confession. The words "I love you" still echoed in Lira's mind—sweet, yet unbearably painful. She tossed and turned on the bed, her not-yet-healed wings throbbing faintly, as if they too felt the storm brewing inside her. Arka, after being rejected by her, had returned to his spot on the porch. Lira could sense the sorrow cloaking him, even though he made no sound. The silence between them weighed heavier than any storm.
Morning came. The sun rose slowly, casting golden rays into the cabin, but it wasn't enough to clear the clouds in Lira's heart. She decided to face Arka. She found him in the garden, as usual, hands busy pulling weeds. But his movements lacked the usual vigor and joy. There was a weight on his shoulders.
Lira stepped closer, her heart pounding. "Arka?"
He looked up, his eyes—usually warm—now tired. "Yes, Lira?" His voice was flat, emotionless, and that alone made her feel even more guilty.
"I… I'm sorry." Lira lowered her gaze. She wasn't used to apologizing. In Kayangan, fairies rarely made mistakes, and when they did, they handled it with rituals and spells. But here, on Earth, an apology felt raw and real.
Arka sighed, then stood. He looked at her. "Sorry for what? For being honest?" There was a slight sharpness in his tone, something Lira had never heard before. "You had your reasons, Lira. I understand."
"You don't understand," Lira quickly replied, lifting her gaze. Tears welled in her eyes again. "It's not that I don't want to, Arka. I can't." She gestured to her wings, slowly healing, with delicate fibers reconnecting. "This… this is proof. I'm not from your world. I'm… a fairy. And we are strictly forbidden from marrying humans."
Arka stared at her wings. He had seen them gradually heal, and it only deepened his belief that Lira was no ordinary girl. "Why is it forbidden? What will happen?" he asked, curiosity beginning to outweigh disappointment.
Lira shook her head. "I don't know exactly. It's an ancient law. My father, King Eldrin, always emphasized it. He said a bond between a fairy and a human would only bring disaster. It could… destroy Kayangan and your world too." Lira didn't fully understand the prophecy or the law herself. She only knew it was an absolute truth among her kind.
Arka fell silent, processing what he had just heard. A fairy. A word from childhood tales was now standing before him, wounded and weeping. He saw the fragility behind Lira's beauty, and it made his heart ache.
"All right," Arka finally said, his voice soft again. He gently stroked Lira's hair, a soothing touch. "I won't force you. But… may I ask one thing?"
Lira nodded, wiping her tears.
"Do you… do you feel the same way about me?" he asked, his eyes searching hers for the truth.
Lira couldn't lie. Arka had given her so much kindness. So much warmth. She nodded slowly. "Yes, Arka. I… I love you too."
A faint smile appeared on Arka's lips, though sadness still lingered. At least his feelings weren't one-sided. "That's enough for me, for now, Lira," he whispered. "I'll keep protecting you. Until the day you return to your realm… or whatever comes next."
His words were comforting yet deepened Lira's dilemma. She loved Arka, and he loved her. But how could they be together when fate—and an ancient law—stood in their way?
In the days that followed, the atmosphere in Arka's cabin changed. There was a thicker silence between them, a bitter understanding hanging in the air. They still worked in the garden together, but their interactions were now restrained by invisible walls. They still cared deeply, but kisses under the moonlight, tender touches—those were now just dreams.
Lira grew anxious. Her wings were healing, yes, but she couldn't feel the celestial energy of Kayangan that once allowed her to fly. It was as if the Earth had drained her essence—or some kind of blockade prevented her from reconnecting. Every time she tried to gather energy, all she felt was emptiness… or a dizzying weakness.
One afternoon, while Arka was eating lunch under a tree, Lira brought up the issue.
"Arka, I… I can't feel Kayangan anymore. My wings are healed, but I can't fly. It's like… something is holding me down here."
Arka set down his food. "Maybe you just need more time, Lira. Your body's still adjusting."
"But it's been months!" Lira said, frustrated. "I feel like my power is fading. In Kayangan, we can speak to nature, absorb energy from the starlight. I can't do that anymore." She sighed, looking at her hands. "I can't even make flowers bloom like I used to."
Arka looked around at his garden. Indeed, the plants hadn't shown any magical growth lately—not like when Lira first arrived. "Then you need to train again," Arka said, trying to sound optimistic. "Maybe there's another way to activate your powers here. Earth has its own energy too, Lira. Maybe it's different from Kayangan, but it must exist."
His words sparked a small hope in Lira's heart. Earth's energy. She had never considered that. In Kayangan, they were taught to draw from light and ether. But what about the soil, the water, and the wind here?
From that day on, Lira spent her time in the garden not just to help Arka, but to try to connect with the Earth's energy. She traced tree roots, felt the dampness of the soil, listened to the rustling leaves. She meditated as her father had taught her—but this time, she focused on the land around her.
At first, nothing happened. But slowly, after weeks, Lira began to sense a faint pulse. Not the strong energy of Kayangan, but a gentler, deeper current. Like a whisper. She realized the Earth had its own rhythm—slower, calmer, but full of life.
One afternoon, while she was meditating by a small pond behind the cabin, she felt something strange. Not Earth's energy—but another force. Darker. Colder. Lira gasped, her concentration breaking. She looked around—nothing. Just trees and the chirping of crickets.
"What's wrong, Lira?" Arka appeared from behind the bushes, carrying a bundle of firewood.
"N-nothing," she stammered, trying to mask her unease. "I just… felt a little dizzy."
Arka looked at her with concern. "Are you sure? You look pale."
Lira forced a smile, though inside, she still felt the chill of that dark aura. Was it just her imagination? Or was there something more than Earth's energy at play? Something hidden—something that wasn't supposed to be here.
That night, Lira couldn't sleep. She kept thinking about the dark energy she had felt. In Kayangan, they were taught about negative energy—how it could corrupt nature—but such forces were rare, protected against by fairy guardians. If such energy was present on Earth—and strong enough for her to sense—it meant something was terribly wrong.
A terrifying thought crossed her mind. If there was dark energy… perhaps something was seeking it. Or worse, something was seeking her.
At that very moment, deep within the majestic skies of Kayangan, King Eldrin stood before a rotating star map. Worry furrowed his brow. The light of one particular star—Lira's—had long since dimmed. And now, a dark ripple was spreading from Earth. An energy that should never have pierced Kayangan's shield.
"My daughter…" King Eldrin murmured, his hand tightening into a fist. He had to find Lira. And more than that, he had to uncover the source of the dark energy. This was no longer just about his daughter.
It was about the fate of both realms.
A growing threat—one King Eldrin feared—may have begun with the fall of a single fairy… to Earth.