"Ice," he whispered, aiming his wand forward.
The sound of frost touching glass silenced the birdsong for a fleeting second. Though small, the solid ice, shaped into jagged peaks, had shattered what moments ago was a glass cup.
"I did it!"
Elian touched the ice in awe, unable to believe what he had just conjured.
"Congratulations," a rhythmic clapping sounded.
Elian spun around, wand in hand, locking eyes with his pet cat.
"Thanks, Isil."
"You're welcome. Though, if I may add, you should change your stance when attacking. The recoil will ruin your back one of these days."
"Thanks," the young man smiled. "I'll keep that in mind." He glanced at his wristwatch. "We have an hour. Ready to harvest?"
"To be completely honest... no," the cat replied, letting his owner scoop him into his arms.
They opened the back door, stepping out into the fields. The valleys, dyed in a vibrant jade green, glowed under the gentle touch of spring. The sun sat high in the sky, bathing the cultivated lands in its rays.
"Look at this, Isil," Elian said, pulling the leafy tops to unearth a massive carrot from the dirt. "They're actually growing."
"I told you. If you're going to be a farmer, at least learn some cultivation spells."
Minutes passed as they finished their work: Elian pulled the vegetables from the earth, and Isil, using his own magic, levitated the massive crops into the baskets. Sweat glistened on the young man's forehead under the heat of the sun, proof of his hard work.
He went inside to wash up and, a few minutes later, emerged dressed and broom in hand.
The takeoff was a swipe of wind that left the squirrels behind in a whirlwind of dry leaves. Elian leaned forward, almost melding with the broom, feeling the air pressure try to snap his head back. Below, the world shrank into strokes of rivers and treetops; above, the sky was his, and he claimed it with every tight turn and reckless dive that made Isil bury his claws into his shoulder.
"You're going to crash into something one day, young man!" the cat spat, his grip tightening on his companion's shoulder.
"Come on, Isil. Live a little," he replied, keeping his eyes locked ahead.
Gardeia rose from the landscape like a mountain of stone and life. Elian dove toward the center, soaring over the great central clock while the air filled with the shouts of other flyers and the chiming of bells. He plunged into a nosedive, tracing concentric circles that made his chest heavy with gravity, until the scrape of bristles against the cobblestone told him the ride was over.
"See that, cat? We're still alive."
"Sometimes I wonder if I'm the one with nine lives..."
The uproar of haggling in Gardeia wrapped around them like a blanket. Elian pushed through the crowd, making sure no one stepped on Isil as they dodged a flock of owls. At the side stalls, fairies advertised new wares with glowing signs. An ogre hauling sacks of grain nearly ran them over, but Elian didn't even flinch, weaving through the street squabbles between gnomes and goblins that served as the town's soundtrack.
Leaving the main bustle behind, they reached the quieter cobblestone streets, where the air—purified by the hair of local nymphs—smelled of pollen and fresh flowers.
The shop's bell chimed as the heavy wooden door swung open. The Solaris set his cat down and pulled a medium-sized book from his satchel, bound in dark brown leather with mahogany tones.
"Yarid, I brought your book," he announced, setting the tome on the library counter.
The sound of heavy footsteps gave the owner away. A somewhat chubby, emerald-green ogre emerged from the back room, adjusting a pair of small reading glasses.
"Hello, Elian. Let me see that." Yarid took the book, inspecting the spine. "No stains, no missing pages... looks like you didn't ruin it. That'll be five copper coins."
"Here you go," he said, placing the coins on the wood. "Hey, I managed a new spell today. An ice one."
"Offensive? At least don't forget your cultivation spells, kid."
"That's what I told him," Isil chimed in, before sitting down to scratch his ear.
"Ah, you two are a special case."
"I get that a lot, Yarid," Elian said, putting away his coin pouch.
"And how's the farm?"
"Excellent. Being the best farmer in town is exhausting, but I make the sacrifice."
"Well, keep it up, because your vegetables are some of the best around," the ogre smiled, flashing his blunt tusks.
"Thanks. I'll bring you a basket one of these days. And by the way, I need one more magic book..."
"I won't give you anything dangerous. You haven't even entered a magic academy yet."
"Alright... How about some basic elemental magic?"
The ogre opened a creaking drawer and pulled out a thick volume with the symbols of the four elements engraved on the cover.
"I had it ready for you."
"Thanks again. I have to go. See you," Elian waved, scooping up his cat and heading out.
The bell chimed again, signaling their exit. They walked past the town's great murals, broom in hand, while the boy whistled a tune.
"Hey, Elian," the feline called out.
"Tell me."
"Look at that."
The boy stopped dead in his tracks. It was a bone-white paper poster, covered in black ink zeros and a rough sketch. "The Savage," it read in large letters, plastered over dozens of other notices papering the wall.
"They've been robbing the neighbors' farms. Elian, do you think it'll be a problem?"
"Let's hope not," he muttered, buckling his satchel. "But if the neighbors need help, I could use some extra money." He mounted his broom. "Coming?"
"Sure." Isil leaped onto his shoulder. "Just slow down. You don't want to crash into a cliff again."
"That was years ago."
"That was a year ago."
"Doesn't matter."
They took off. After a smooth, dizzy-free flight, they landed back at their fields. Both stepped off the broom, feeling the fertile earth beneath their feet.
"Well..." Elian stretched, his back popping. "I guess I'll go study. I leave the rest to you, Isil."
"And by any chance, do you want me to make you a cup of coffee and some toast, too?"
"Alright, buddy. That's enough sarcasm for today... Just... Son of a..."
The words died in his throat. Before him, a trail of smashed vegetables led out from the front door of his house; they were the same ones he had harvested that morning. They ran inside. The table was filthy, the floor wet and smeared with mud, and the pantry—once full—was wide open and nearly empty.
"Damn it..."
"Damn it indeed."
A crunch of branches echoed from outside. Elian looked through the window, locking eyes on a humanoid shadow scurrying at high speed through the brush at the edge of his property.
"He's there." He clenched his jaw. "Isil, he's getting away! We have to catch him."
"I'm sure if we call the authorities—" The cat couldn't finish his sentence before being snatched from the ground by the young man.
Elian threw the door open, breaking into a sprint to hunt down the thief. The creature's heavy footsteps echoed in the distance. The Solaris didn't hesitate; he channeled his mana into his legs, imbuing his boots with wind magic, and shot forward like a bullet.
The path seemed to blur. The wind cut his face as he dodged the massive oak trees with unnatural agility, leaping over roots and underbrush like a blur. The sharp turns of the Solaris and the thief shook the leaves of the trees in their wake.
"Hold on, Isil!"
A desperate burst of speed made him gain ground, forcing Isil to bury his claws into his tunic to keep from flying off.
Then came the impact.
There was no physical wall, but the air pressure struck his chest with the force of a sledgehammer. Elian stopped dead, his boots carving into the dirt as dust filled his throat. Around him, spring died: the light grew dim, and the oaks twisted into dense, white columns that seemed to close in on him like a trap of old wood.
The air no longer smelled of spring. A bone-chilling cold replaced the heat of the chase.
"Isil..."
"I warned you. You entered the Grey Forest."
That place, which from the outside looked like a mere cluster of trees, was a distorted space within. Dry, orange leaves crunched beneath the budding frost, while purple berries bloomed on frozen branches—physical remnants of its lethal ability to change seasons in a matter of hours.
"Well, Elian. You know what to do. Just retrace your steps and—"
A deep growl cut the instruction short.
From the depths of the Grey Forest, two massive shadows detached from the mist. They were wolves with coats as black as coal, their silhouettes devouring what little light remained. A low snarl, thick with an almost human hatred, shattered the silence, baring fangs deadlier than the cold itself. Above them, fixed and cursed, their eyes burned scarlet red.
"Hold on!"
The echo of footsteps resounded once more. They fled, pounding the snow like frantic drums. The wolves split up, becoming fleeting shadows that flanked his vision. By the time Elian tried to react, the crunch of frost around him was no longer random: the beasts had him surrounded, cutting off every escape route.
The temperature plummeted with each passing second, freezing the boy's breath.
His fingers moved desperately, tracing runes in the air to unleash a blast of frost just before he slipped and fell flat on his back.
From the ground, he charged his attack, channeling all his energy into his wand, ready to fire point-blank. The snap of twigs alerted him to his attackers, and he aimed at the mist that hid them. Drops, like dew, sprouted from the tip, converging into a crystalline sphere. His hands shook. He took a slow breath to steady himself.
He cast the spell.
The frost devoured the beast in a blink, but the residual energy struck him like a mallet to the chest. The recoil sent him flying, slamming his back against the rough bark of a pale oak with an impact that stole his breath.
It wasn't enough. The remaining pack closed the circle. The young man, dizzy and his vision blurred from the blow, watched the predators creep closer, stalking him.
Elian tried to prop himself up on his elbows, searching uselessly for an escape route among the dark maws.
And then, the beasts stopped.
A wild, guttural roar paralyzed the attackers. The sound was deafening, and the smell of smoke that accompanied it made half the pack recoil out of pure instinct.
Isil's fur stood on end at the sight of the silhouette: a giant draped in pelts, crowned by a wolf's skull, descending from the rocks like a demon of ash.
The savage took a deep breath, and a scorching heat, like the desert sun itself, erupted from his hands. From his position, the stranger spat out a roaring wall of pure fire that incinerated the ground, disintegrating the nearest wolf in an instant and sending the rest of the pack fleeing in terror amidst howls.
Elian slowly sat up, stunned, trying to process what his eyes had just witnessed.
"I need you to calm down," the being said in a steady voice, as the flames around him died out on the snow. He turned to them. "Do you... know how to get out of here?"
"Yes," the cat replied, still bristling. "Yes, we do."
"A talking cat?" he muttered, gesturing to the trail of melted snow and scorched earth. "Did you make that ice, kid? Guide me to the edge of this place."
"Yeah..." Elian answered, still disoriented, starting to walk and forcing his exhausted knees to move.
The trio set off. The savage walked ahead of them, following Isil's directions.
Elian... he doesn't smell like a Solaris... the feline whispered into his owner's ear. That head he uses as a helmet... it gives me a bad feeling.
Seconds before crossing the forest's threshold, the contrast was violent. The earth beneath their boots, once frozen and hard, turned soft and warm; the freezing air died, drowned out by a spring breeze. They were out.
They walked in silence until they spotted the farm, its stone house rising in the distance like a beacon of safety.
"Finally!" Elian sighed, still carrying Isil on his shoulder. He stopped to pant a little, feeling the burning in his lungs slowly fade. "We made it... And now... tell us," he panted, "what's your name, stranger?"
"Elian, no."
"I'm sorry."
"I..." The stranger raised his hands and grabbed the jaw of his helmet. Slowly, he pulled off the thick wolf's head, revealing his true face. His features were foreign, his dark hair soaked in sweat. "I'm Andrew. Andrew Nova."
Elian narrowed his eyes, instinctively tightening his grip on his wand.
"You... you can't be a Solaris," he said, drawing his wand completely from its holster. "How is it that you have no magical aura?"
"I don't?"
"You don't have the pointed ears of a dark elf... but you aren't a Solaris either."
"Is it because of how I look?" Andrew touched his brown face, confused. "Hey, relax. I'm not a threat."
"What are you?" Elian demanded, unable to comprehend what stood before him.
"I'm a human..." Andrew shrugged off the heavy bear pelt, letting it drop to the grass. Underneath, he wore strange, worn-out clothes, and his arms were heavily wrapped in stained white cloth. "What are you?"
"I'm a Solaris."
They fell into a tense silence, sizing each other up. Andrew began unrolling the bandages from his arms, revealing ordinary human skin.
"Am I something weird around here?"
"You can't be a human."
"Excuse me?" Andrew shoved the bandages into his pocket, genuinely baffled.
"Humans have never entered Genesis. If you are human, how is it possible that you don't have a single drop of magical aura?"
"I don't know," the boy replied, stretching his tired muscles. "I was just born this way."
"Elian," the cat whispered, tense. "His skin..."
"That's something else," the young man ignored him, raising his voice so the stranger would hear. "Are you a mutated dark elf? Tell the truth. You can't be human."
"Blind yourself to the truth if you want. I was just born this way. But I assure you, Solaris, my heart pumps blood just like yours. I won't hurt you. If you want me to leave, I'll leave."
Elian lowered his wand slowly. The grudge over the stolen vegetables was dissolving into a mix of pity and bewilderment.
"I think you..."
Andrew let out a hiss of pain, gritting his teeth so hard his jaw trembled. He brought his hands to his face, stumbling as if the ground had suddenly tilted. With clumsy, desperate fingers, he began to tangle the white cloth around his head, covering his right eye with an almost maniacal urgency.
"Elian, get back," the feline warned, his voice a metallic thread of pure nerves.
Andrew half-turned, suffocating from the pain. In that sudden movement, the poorly adjusted bandage slipped just a few millimeters. It was enough.
Through the slit in the fabric, an unnatural gleam struck Isil's sight. It wasn't light; it was a pulse.
Where a human pupil should be, Andrew's eye was a shattered iris, shaped like a cursed rhombus that throbbed like a dying ember. Blood red and obsidian black converged in a whirlpool that erased any trace of white, leaving only a cold stare.
"A human..." the feline whispered, every hair on his back standing on end. "A human with no magical aura... but with a Kianku."