"Harold, did I not tell you never to wander into the human forest again?"
"Mother… today, that child came to the forest once more."
The goddess Esseria's golden eyes narrowed. She sighed heavily, brushing her hand across her son's soft hair.
"I know you are curious about humans," she said gently. "But that curiosity will fade as you grow. Humans are weak, greedy, and far too eager to take what is not theirs. They are clever animals, but little more than that."
"But Mother," Harold protested, his bright eyes shining with longing, "I cannot stop thinking about that child. I've been careful—she never sees me. I hide well. I only watch from afar."
Esseria's voice sharpened. "If you cross that boundary one more time to see her… you will live as a fawn until the day you turn ten."
"What?" Harold's eyes widened.
But his curiosity was like a wildfire that could not be smothered. Each day it grew, gnawing at him, filling his chest with an ache. He wanted to see her again, speak with her, perhaps even laugh beside her.
That fateful day, while wandering near the forest's boundary, he had first seen her. A small human girl, playing alone beneath the trees. She laughed at simple games only she seemed to understand, her voice carrying like a bell through the woods. Harold had hidden behind the roots of an ancient oak, mesmerized. Day after day, his desire to be near her only grew stronger.
In the end, he ignored his mother's warning. He crossed the barrier once again.
And he was caught.
With a single wave of Esseria's hand, the boy's small body shimmered and twisted. In his place stood a delicate fawn, its trembling legs struggling to stand.
"Mother…?" Harold's frightened voice echoed only inside his own mind.
Yet even as a fawn, his curiosity did not die. Perhaps because the punishment seemed lighter than he had feared, he continued to sneak across the barrier almost daily.
Until one day, everything changed.
That day, the girl looked up—and their eyes met.
Her gaze was deep, luminous, like starlight reflected on water. Harold froze. He should not have been seen. He could not be seen. Yet when she smiled softly and whispered, "Hello," his lips moved on their own.
"…Hello."
The word slipped from him, and both children froze.
He should not have been able to speak with her. Gods' children did not gain the divine gift of speech with mortals until their tenth year. And yet, somehow, she understood him, and he understood her.
It was impossible. It was a miracle.
From that moment, Harold's days became the happiest of his life. They roamed the woods together, laughing, playing, hiding from the rain. His mother's scoldings felt like songs compared to the joy of being near her.
But joy never lasts forever.
On a stormy day, the earth turned slick beneath his hooves. Harold slipped—his body tumbling down a cliffside. He tried to call for his mother, but before he could, something dark seized the back of his neck. His vision went black.
When he woke, he was in his mother's arms. His breath came shallow, his heart faltering. Esseria's fury burned like fire, but beneath it Harold felt her terror.
And he felt something else—the girl's danger.
"Mother," he begged with the last of his strength, his thoughts frantic. "It's my fault. She's innocent! Please don't hurt her. She even saved me. Punish me instead, but don't touch her. I promise—I'll never see her again. Just let her live!"
But he had no strength left to open his eyes, no chance to see her face one last time. The sorrow of that loss carved itself into his heart.
Esseria nearly erased the child on the spot. But something stopped her. The girl had risked herself to save her son. To destroy her would have been a cruel mistake. So instead, the goddess wiped away her memories—every trace of Harold, every moment in the forest.
Yet she left a gift behind.
A seed of power, a fragment of her divinity: the ability to dream true dreams, to step into the dreams of others.
But her warning lingered in her heart.
If Harold meets this girl again… if he crosses the boundary even after he turns ten… then fate will not forgive them.
The gift was dangerous. For if a mortal could not bear its weight, it would consume them instead.
"If you can endure it, the power will be yours. If not… you will vanish into nothing."