"Oops..."
A loud crash came from behind the crowd as the pot shattered on the floor.
"I'll fix it later—more importantly, who's this cute little guy?"
A young, slender brown-haired elf leapt out from the gathering, his wide eyes sparkling with excitement and a bright, infectious smile lighting up his face.
Close behind him, a small Thiraxi child clung to his hand, peeking out shyly.
The child gazed at Fael with awe, as if she were witnessing the birth of her own little brother. Her eyes shimmered as she gently poked his soft, chubby cheeks while he slept peacefully. She blinked twice, curious, then turned her head.
"Mother, who is he?"
"His name is Fael," Sevah replied with a gentle smile. "You both have a brother now. Take care of him for me, won't you?"
These were the children the druids had taken in long before Fael arrived—each of them lovingly entrusted to Sevah's care. In fact, they were also found abandoned by Sevah in various forgotten shrines. The ones discovered by the druids were the fortunate ones—placed in gentle hands. Devout followers of Viraeth would never turn away an abandoned soul.
"You can count on me, Mother. I'll train him!"
Zuli let out a sigh and facepalmed. "You say that now…"
"And I will play with him," the young girl interrupted with a grin.
Fael had awoken from all the commotion, yet he didn't cry like most children would. Instead, he lay still, silently gazing up at the canopy above.
The Elf and the Thiraxi child stared at Fael in silence. Slowly, Fael turned his eyes toward them. As his gaze met theirs, a spark of joy lit up their faces—his eyes were unlike anything they had ever seen. His golden eye gleamed even brighter in the sunlight, while the other shimmered faintly—like a starlit night sky.
"I'm Lark, and this is Myne," the elf said cheerfully, lifting the girl into his arms.
Elves were among the most populous and intelligent races in Theryndal. Their capital, Isareth, stood as the largest and most advanced city in the land—a beacon of knowledge, art, and arcane study.
The Thiraxis, on the other hand, were a rare and enigmatic people. Little was known about them, aside from their deep-rooted knowledge of pre-Fragmentation Theryndal and fluency in the Old Tongue.
Hearing his siblings say their names, Fael—like any curious infant—tried to mimic the sounds. He mumbled something in response; it was a decent attempt.
The Elder stood up and drew closer to Fael. "You don't even know where you are, do you?" she whispered. "This grove has raised many lost souls… We take what the gods cast aside and let the forest make something new." She closed her eyes, "You will be safe here."
It was nearly time for Lark's training session with Zuli.
Zuli stood at the edge of the training field, adjusting the worn grip on her blade. The air was cool, the twilight wind weaving through the trees. Lark practiced swings nearby.
A sudden thought strikes him as he paused, wiping sweat from his brow.
"Master Zuli... why do you even use a sword? You're a druid, aren't you? Shouldn't you be weaving roots or healing leaves or... something less sharp?"
It wasn't the first time he'd asked this. Years of swinging a blade under a druid's command had never quite made sense to him.
Zuli smirked.
"A fair question." She leaned on the sword.
"Most druids do channel Asyth for healing. It's what comes naturally. But Asyth doesn't just soothe—it reacts and reshapes. After the Fragmentation, it became... volatile."
Lark's expression turned serious.
"You mean... that's how the Nephis came to be?"
She nodded, eyes distant.
"When the world broke, the flow of Asyth changed. Some were caught in its path—those that weren't strong enough to bear the surge. Their minds twisted and their bodies followed."
Lark lowered his gaze.
"They can't die, right? That's what the elders say."
"Not truly," Zuli said softly.
"They return. Every time you strike one down, a piece of them fades—names, memories, faces. They forget who they were. And each time, they scream louder."
Lark swallowed.
"That's... horrible."
Zuli's voice grew firmer.
"That's why I chose this blade. Because sometimes, the forest must fight back. Not all of us can wait for the trees to bloom."
She turned to him, gaze steeled.
"And someday, Lark, if the Grove falls… you'll need more than roots to hold the line."
As commander of the Grove Guardians, she led the druids she personally trained, forming a disciplined force dedicated to protecting the Groves.
Every night, they patrolled the forest borders, holding the Nephis at bay and shielding against corruption.
***
Years passed like drifting petals. The Grove watched over the children and taught them language and about ancient legends.
Lark had grown into a proficient swordsman, often showing off his techniques to the druids and his younger siblings. He was a praise-seeking young man—confident and proud of his skills.
Myne had turned ten this year and certainly was adored by all the druids. She was perfect in every aspect, a fast learner and a nature lover with interests in Botany and Floriculture. Her brilliance stirred admiration among the druids.
There was a small carved hollow inside a Tursim tree near the gazebo, where the druids kept ancient scriptures and tomes. The little library was overseen by Mrs. Marie, the druid and florist who taught Myne. Whenever she wasn't playing with Fael, Myne could always be found nestled in there, nose-deep in a book.
Fael cried often in his early years and Sevah was always there to calm him. She spent most of her time with Fael. She showed him places he'd never seen before and sang him lullabies.
His brother and sister, ever wild spirited, would sometimes sneak away from their lessons to find him.
As the moons circled and days passed by, Fael began to walk. His steps were unsteady at first, weak and wobbling barefooted across the moss with Sevah just a breath away.
But soon he ran freely chasing birds and splashing through the stream. He smiled and laughed and was easily integrated into Lark and Myne's group.
The druids watched him grow with quiet reverence. There was something different in him. Most animals approached him without fear.
"He has a pure soul," elder Myra once whispered, as Fael sat beside her beneath the purple tree. That was the only purple tree that existed in the Grove.
Zuli gifted him a wooden sword, carved from branches and engraved with his name. "Use it to protect yourself and the ones you love," she said with a gentle smile. Fael, too young to grasp the weight of her words, accepted it with wide eyes and a soft giggle. To him, it was just a toy.
By the time he was six, the Grove had become his entire universe–a realm of laughter and joy. He had learnt to speak by then and the druidic way of life was prominent in him.
When not playing with his siblings, he would tend to garden and play with animals. Lark had already begun teaching young Fael on wielding a sword. Zuli allowed it since he was still too young to join her training sessions.
He would imitate Lark's movements while he was training.
Myne and Fael quickly became close, he learnt a lot about flowers and nature from Myne.
"That one is called peony, and that one is lavender," Myne kept impressing Fael and the druids. Her knowledge of flora was incredible.
Fael pointed his index towards the potted lavender.
"Sister, your hair looks just like this lavender!"
A faint blush crept up Myne's cheeks, and she quickly turned away, pretending to inspect another plant.
He's too innocent… it's not fair.
The day passed quickly. Fael sat beside Sevah at the gazebo's edge, their feet dangling above the moss. The light touched his face gently, making his mismatched eyes glimmer.
"Mother, why is the day so short?"
Sevah didn't answer immediately. Her gaze lingered on the sun.
"Once, the days were longer... the light was warmer," she finally said, her voice almost a whisper.
Fael tilted his head, confused.
Sevah smiled and brushed a lock of hair from his brow.
"It's a very long story. I'll tell you one day, when you're older. Maybe you'll understand it better than I ever did."
Fael nodded, though his eyes still held doubt. He stood up and bounced off toward Lark, giggling.
Sevah watched him go, her smile fading into thought.
She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, murmuring the same lullaby she sings to Fael.
"Stay innocent just a little longer, my child..."