The dark energy Lira felt continued to haunt her. It wasn't just an ordinary dizziness—it was a piercing cold sensation, as if the air around her had suddenly become hollow. All night long, she tossed and turned. The memory of that energy, combined with the worried look on King Eldrin's face that lingered in her mind, made her realize that there might be a far greater danger on Earth than merely losing her powers or being forbidden to marry.
That morning, Lira decided not to tell Arka about the dark energy. The man already carried enough burdens with the condition of the garden and the tangled emotions between them. Lira didn't want to weigh him down with something she didn't even understand herself. She would investigate it on her own.
After Arka left for the village market to sell their harvest, Lira returned to the small pond behind the hut. For some reason, that place felt like the center of the energy. She sat cross-legged by the pond, closed her eyes, and tried to sense the darkness again. She imagined herself as the root of a tree burrowing deep into the earth, searching for the source of that energy.
At first, all she felt was the gentle, soothing energy of the earth—familiar and calm, just as she had always tried to absorb. But gradually, beneath that layer of warmth, there was another pulse. Deeper, colder, and foreign. Like a black stain on a white cloth. Lira focused, trying to draw that energy closer. A wave of nausea hit her, and her head throbbed.
"Ugh!" she groaned, eyes flying open. She stumbled back, retreating from the pond. The sensation was too strong, too unpleasant. It wasn't the natural energy she was used to. This was something else—something evil.
She shut her eyes again, trying to steady herself. Then she recalled something her teacher once told her in the Celestial Realm: Dark energy often hides behind chaos or emerges when nature's balance is disturbed. Could her fall to Earth have disrupted a balance somewhere?
Lira decided not to force herself further. One thing was clear—it was there, and it felt close. She needed to be careful.
Meanwhile, Arka returned from the market with a slightly brighter face. This harvest had gone well, and he'd managed to sell most of their vegetables. He even had enough money to buy a small piece of new cloth for Lira. He knew she never complained, but wearing the same clothes every day must have been uncomfortable for her.
As he entered the hut, he saw Lira sitting on the mat, sorting corn kernels. Her face looked more serious than usual.
"Lira, I got something for you!" Arka called out, trying to lighten the mood. He pulled out a piece of soft light blue cotton fabric.
Lira's eyes lit up when she saw it. "For me?" She took it, running her fingers across the soft fibers. "Thank you, Arka." A genuine smile curved her lips, and Arka felt a wave of relief. Seeing her smile made all his worries vanish.
"You can make a new dress out of it," Arka said. "Your clothes are getting pretty worn."
Lira chuckled softly. "I'm not very good at sewing."
"I can teach you," Arka offered, sitting beside her. "I learned from my mother a long time ago. At least I can help you cut the patterns."
They spent that afternoon trying to cut the fabric. Arka showed her how to hold the scissors, how to measure, and how to draw simple patterns. Though awkward at first, Lira learned quickly. Laughter and playful teasing once again filled the little hut. In moments like these, Lira forgot she was a fairy, forgot the Celestial Realm, forgot ancient laws. She was just a girl, learning to sew with the man she loved.
But amidst their laughter, Arka caught a glimpse of movement outside the window. A quick flash—like something darting behind the bushes. He frowned. Maybe just a wild animal. He dismissed it.
That night, after dinner, Arka went to the river to wash the dishes. Lira stayed behind in the hut, cleaning up the leftover food. Suddenly, she heard a rustling sound outside—near the window. She turned, her heart pounding. The memory of that dark energy from earlier rushed back.
She stepped cautiously toward the window, peeking through a small gap in the worn curtain. Nothing. Just the darkness of night and silhouettes of trees. Lira sighed, thinking it was just her imagination.
But then, a soft voice—barely more than a whisper in the wind—brushed against her ear.
"Lira... you… must… return…"
Lira gasped. It wasn't Arka's voice. It was cold, unfamiliar… yet somehow familiar, as if it came from the deepest corners of her memory. Her heart pounded wildly. She felt the same chilling aura from the pond earlier.
"Who's there?" Lira asked, her voice trembling. She backed away, eyes scanning for something to hold. Her hand found a kitchen knife on the table. She grabbed it, hands shaking.
No answer. Only suffocating silence—and that coldness creeping into the room like fog. Lira swallowed hard. This wasn't her imagination. It was real. Something was out there. And that voice... it was both a warning and a threat.
Moments later, Arka returned from the river. "Lira? Why are you so tense? You're holding a knife?" He saw her frozen in place, clutching the kitchen knife tightly.
"Arka! I... I heard something," Lira whispered, her eyes wide. "A voice... someone whispered my name."
Arka rushed to her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "A voice? Who? What did it say?" He tried to calm her down. "Maybe you're just tired, Lira."
"No! It was real! I felt it! The same dark energy from the pond! It told me to return!"
Arka looked into Lira's frightened eyes. He didn't fully understand what she meant by "dark energy," but he knew she wasn't lying. Something had scared her deeply.
He gently took the knife from her hand and pulled her into a firm embrace. "It's okay, Lira. I'm here. I won't let anything hurt you." He glanced sharply toward the window, toward the darkness outside. He couldn't see or feel what Lira did—but his instincts told him she was in danger.
While Lira still trembled in Arka's arms, far off in the distance—above the dark canopy of the forest—a pair of red eyes gleamed menacingly. They weren't the eyes of any animal. They were eyes full of cunning, watching the small hut with eerie fascination. The whisper Lira had heard was only the beginning. Something had awakened on Earth—something that had long slumbered—and now, the fall of a fairy had caught its attention.
Back in the Celestial Realm, King Eldrin felt the pulse of dark energy growing stronger, rising from the Earth. He knew this was no natural phenomenon. That power... he had felt it centuries ago. A force that had once nearly shattered the shield between the Celestial Realm and the Earth.
"This is bad," King Eldrin muttered to himself, his eyes fixed on the crystal ceiling of the hall. "He has awakened. And now... he's coming for my daughter."