Mavis crawled out of the tent, keenly sensing the shift in the atmosphere.
This apothecary-cum-cook (or cook-cum-apothecary) wasn't particularly attuned to magic; what stirred her awareness was less the magic itself than her own elven heritage. The bloodline inherited from her mother, purified by the Heart of Nature, made Mavis effectively a half-elf. Her wood elf-derived perception vaguely sensed that this world was no longer the same as before she had fallen asleep.
The moment she stepped out of the tent, she saw the elf.
It was an elf archer carrying a longbow. He appeared young and handsome, yet his brow was furrowed with melancholy and world-weariness. When he spotted Mavis, his face lit up instantly, the gloom vanishing.
"Tao-na?" he exclaimed, his voice brimming with delight.
"I'm sorry, I'm Mavis," Mavis replied. "That was my mother's name."
The elf's spirits sank at the first part of her statement, only to soar again at the second. "Ah, then you..." He seemed at a loss for words. "Tao Na is my daughter's name."
The elf archer wasn't as young as he appeared, but now he seemed utterly flustered. A whirlwind of emotions swirled across his face—a tangled mix of feelings—leaving him momentarily speechless. It was Mavis who broke the silence first; she always excelled at that.
"Hello!" the half-elf said with a warm smile. "I never imagined I'd see you again, Grandfather. You look just as handsome as Mother described."
"And you... you look so much like Tona." The elf archer smiled too, the deep furrows between his brows smoothing out like winter yielding to spring. Though their ages were worlds apart and their features not identical, when they smiled, the resemblance was uncanny.
The silver-haired half-elf and her young, handsome grandfather stood face to face, two strangers who had never met before, each grateful for this unexpected joy.
Whatever their original plans had been, this unforeseen reunion disrupted them both.
"I thought you'd left like the other elves," Mavis said.
"I didn't make it in time," Grandfather replied with a wry smile. "I was hurrying back from the farthest reaches of the Western Continent to the Druidic sanctuary in the Eastern Continent. Along the way, I encountered all sorts of unexpected delays that set me back several days."
Grandfather Mavis had been unlucky.
When the upheaval on the Eastern Continent spiraled out of control, the King of the Wood Elves—a demigod of the earth—sent messages to every Wood Elf. Leaves from the Druidic Sacred Tree, carried by the prayers of the Archdruid, flew to every corner of Erian, searching for the scattered Children of Nature. The King's summons left no room for explanation, yet every summoned one answered without hesitation. Grandfather set out immediately, but some matters defy human will.
By that time, Grandmother—born a mere mortal—was already advanced in years. Having shared a life of epic proportions with Grandfather, she resolved to retire from the impending war in the heavens, seeking a quiet place to spend their final days together. Young elves, aged humans, and young half-elves journeyed westward. By the time the leaf bearing the summons reached the elves, they had already settled in the farthest southwest corner of Erian.
Almost directly opposite the Druid sanctuary.
Time was already tight, and Erian was in utter chaos. The war between heaven and earth had shattered the old order, and the new order had yet to be established. Chaos and disaster had arrived first. Many creatures lived in fear, unable to see the future; many kin of the Heavens and the Abyss began their final madness. Crossing such a continent, it was hard to avoid mishaps. Even though Grandfather gave his all, by the time he arrived, his kin had already departed.
A day's journey from their destination, he looked up and saw the King's magic arrow tear through the sky.
He hadn't made it in time.
"I didn't make it in time," the elven archer lowered his eyes, repeating the words once more. That profound regret, even after centuries, still lingered in his gaze. "When I reached the sacred land, all that remained was..."
Grandfather's voice abruptly halted, as if a switch had been flipped. He glanced apologetically at Mavis and said, "Forgive me. There are things you must learn only after passing your trial."
"Then please tell me the rest!" Mavis insisted.
"Most would ask what the trial entails first," Grandfather chuckled. "Truly the daughter of Tona."
When Grandfather arrived at the Sacred Grounds, another late-arriving elf was already there. That elf mage had even worse luck, arriving a mere half-hour too late.
"By the time I got there, all the druids had already left," Grandfather said.
The remaining druids had all migrated. They carried the Oak Guardians bearing the Heart of Nature, journeying under the protection of friends to a place unknown to anyone. With the Archdruid temporarily gone and the Wood Elves, steadfast allies, likewise departed, the remaining druids holding the Heart of Nature found themselves in peril and had to hide. A high-ranking druid had stayed behind at the sanctuary until the elf mage arrived, after which the last druid departed.
That high-ranking druid had stayed behind specifically to assist the late-arriving elves. Once his task was complete, he would join the main druid force.
The Archdruid and the Wood Elves had departed to investigate the anomalies plaguing the Eastern Continent—contamination originating from the Abyss. Though Grandfather still did not know why the Abyssal taint had spread. He had fought in the Abyssal War, driving the demons back to their home. How could the corruption linger on the land after the passage had been severed? My grandfather also didn't quite understand what his kin intended to do about this corruption. He only knew they had gone to the Astral Plane.
But it was all right. They would return.
That was what the elves believed back then.
They waited a week, until the last four Woodland Elves living in Erian gathered at this sacred site. On the night the last elf arrived, they learned how their departed kin and allies would deal with the corruption.
The earth began to tear apart.
It was not merely the earth that fractured. Rocks and soil collapsed with thunderous crashes. Mountains and oceans were torn asunder by invisible hands. The violet sky above and the sunlight, sickly as if afflicted, vanished without a trace. The Material Plane was torn asunder. The irredeemably polluted zones, along with the maddened creatures dwelling within them, vanished into the sudden rift.
Every soul in Eryan witnessed the tearing of space—a terrifying mirage unfolding across the heavens. Yet none witnessed it up close, for once the rift began, it could not be halted. Like a tsunami or mountain collapse, vast swathes of space beyond the contaminated zones also succumbed to the collapse.
The vanished contaminated zones became black holes, their immense gravity sucking everything nearby into their grasp—unstoppable, devastating all in its path. It happened too swiftly—even legendary adventurers couldn't react. They appeared, then vanished. The Material Plane had withstood centuries of invasion from the Celestial Realm and the Abyss, survived the cataclysmic aftermath of the War of the Worlds, yet within mere seconds, Erian lost a full quarter of itself.
"This is bad." " the elven archer shook his head. "But it's just one bad thing among many."
As the broadcast of the sky's collapse concluded, the vanished quarter of Eryan also vanished from the minds of all ordinary people.
They remembered neither the cataclysmic black hole nor what had existed in that lost quarter of the world, even if their loved ones or mortal enemies might have remembered it. All ordinary beings without extraordinary powers displayed an eerie calm and blankness, as if the black hole had sucked the memories from their minds as well.
"The professionals remember, but not everything," Grandfather said. "I don't recall the specific sight of the collapse, nor what lay beyond the black hole. Only the legendary mage among us remembers this. He said beyond the black hole lay the Astral Plane. In that instant of collapse, every living being in Erian witnessed the Astral Plane."
Mavis still remembered the grave expression on Tashan's face when he described the Astral Plane. That was why, at this moment, a chill ran down her spine.
The Astral Plane—the infinite realm beyond worlds.
Indescribable, boundless, unknown and unknowable—it could drive men like Tash nearly mad. Such a thing ought to concern only the gods, yet it had poured forth unrestrained across the heavens, forcing the entire world to witness its existence.
In that sense, it was truly fortunate that they had forgotten.
Yet the repercussions extended far beyond forgotten collapses or the loss of that quarter's memory. A suspicion took root in Mavis's mind: Could the subsequent disappearance of the very concept of the "Aether" over the following centuries also be linked to this revelation?
"It was then we realized something was amiss," the elf said. "As the corruption vanished, the wood elves and the Archdruid who had departed should have returned—but they did not."
They did not return, nor did they send word. Finally, the mage among the four elves rose abruptly. "There's no time, my brethren," he declared decisively. "If we do not act now, they will never have another chance to return."
The mage cast a magical array.
Elven runes wove an extraordinary magical array—powerful yet heavily constrained. It was a folded labyrinth, a peculiar box, a Möbius strip—a place where time could flow endlessly without escape, never washing away the last shred of hope. The four elven practitioners present had successfully gathered the materials needed to create the magic circle, and the crucial missing ingredient was found right here.
At least four elves of extraordinary power were required, their souls capable of anchoring the array.
That night sky was exceptionally clear. Against the raven-black canopy, a pale yellow full moon shone brilliantly. The silhouettes of the four elves were cast upon the earth. After paying an immense price, they concealed that fleeting moment within the moon's shadow.
After that, oceans turned to fields; after that, centuries flowed by. The four guardians remained frozen within the moon's shadow, awaiting those who could grasp hope.
"I'm so sorry," Grandfather said, his voice heavy with regret. "I'm truly, deeply sorry. The magic circle couldn't wait any longer, and before that, I thought I'd be able to return immediately. I didn't even manage to send a letter. It seems I'm always missing the right moment..."
The guardians paid the price of never being able to leave.
Grandfather's luck was poor. He missed departing with his kin and failed to return to his family. The gatekeeper's soul waited in this liminal space for nearly four hundred years before visitors finally came seeking the flame of hope they had hidden.
"I never met Grandmother, so I cannot speculate on her feelings," But my mother, Tawna—she was always proud of you, delighted to have daughters like you. Though it's a shame they never met, she lived a good life."
This was no hollow consolation.
The Erian Declaration had sparked countless cross-species unions, and Tawna the half-elf was a love child born of that great proclamation. Her parents were heroes who fought in the War of Exile from the Abyss. She grew up in a world free from demonic rampage and divine manipulation, becoming the finest apothecary and the most exceptional cook, just as she had wished. Tawna married a gourmet who had wandered into the forest, bore a daughter who shared her passion for fine food, and ultimately died from accidentally consuming a poison she had brewed herself. Such a life was extraordinary and peaceful—though tinged with regret, it was far from tragic.
"How wonderful," Grandfather sighed sincerely, his eyes glistening with tears. "How fortunate I was to meet my rose, to meet Tona, to meet you."
Even after enduring such a long, arduous existence as part of the barrier, those words still held true.
As long as one lives, good things will come.
"Ah, me, crying in front of my granddaughter," the elf archer chuckled, wiping the corner of her eye. "Enough talk. Come, Mavis. I want to see you prove yourself."
"How shall I prove myself?" Mavis asked.
"No need for modesty. I know you still carry your mother's weapon." The elf archer blinked. "I broke it from the sacred tree myself—with the tree's and the druid's permission, of course. I can still smell the fresh scent on the branch. What did Tawna make with it in the end? A bow? A staff? I think it was a staff. She was always fascinated by cauldrons. Her potions never tasted bitter, which was a huge help when her mother needed to drink them daily..."
Mavis pulled a rolling pin from her sleeve.
Grandfather froze, eyes wide.
"Mother did adore cauldrons," Mavis said gently. "And frying pans, casserole dishes, kitchen knives, egg beaters... rolling pins. She truly cherished your gifts."
Grandfather stared at the rolling pin made from sacred tree branch for several seconds before erupting into thunderous laughter. He laughed so hard tears streamed down his face.
"Well, I never!" he gasped, clutching his aching belly. "Come on, Mavis, conquer my taste buds!"
Mavis rolled up her sleeves, beaming. "My pleasure!"
...
Tasha stood suspended in the void.
The creator of this space seemed particularly indifferent to her, offering no illusions whatsoever—merely casting her into this emptiness. Others might grow restless in such a void, but for Tasha, who had witnessed the Star Realm, this blankness held no mystery.
She stood her ground, serene and composed.
"Are you not concerned about them?"
A voice echoed through the void, solemn and commanding. It could have originated from any direction or materialized directly beside Tasha's ear. Determining the speaker's location by the sound's source was utterly impossible.
However, Tasha knew gaining the upper hand on the opponent's turf was never an option.
"I trust them," Tashan replied. "Besides, this isn't a trap or a killing ground."
"Is that so?" the voice responded noncommittally.
"We seek the Sacred Ground, but if it does not respond to us, we cannot enter," Tashan explained. "The conditions are summoning the full moon and entering the moon's shadow—only Druids, descendants of elves, and silver wolf kin can achieve this."
"The activation condition is summoning the Silver Moon. Silver Wolves, shapeshifting druids, and beastmasters recognized by unicorns can all do this," the voice stated. "The entry condition is recognition by the sacred land."
"So it's even less likely to be a trap," Tasha said. "The space within the Moon Shadow is built upon the ruins of the druidic sacred land. The magic within cannot target the favored children of nature."
"Indeed. Therefore, you should be more concerned about yourself," the voice said, sounding almost stern. "Traveler bearing the aura of the Abyss, schemer who bound a demonic pact with the Silver Wolf—from whence did you steal the essence of dragons and nature?"
"The pacts I made with the Druids and Half-Elves were founded upon the Forest Covenant. Beyond the Abyss, I also gained the essence of dragons and nature." "Why not ask how I deceived the Abyss into acknowledging me?" Tasha retorted.
"None can deceive within this realm," the voice replied. "The Abyss's favor leaves a mark upon you as distinct as charcoal on snow."
"Then you should also know that the dragon's and nature's approval are not feigned—unless you truly believe both dragon and nature could be deceived simultaneously," Tasha said. "If that were the case, you wouldn't be conversing with me here; you'd have launched your attack already."
The voice fell silent for a moment.
"I have never witnessed such a sight," it said. "The proud and mighty dragon, the all-encompassing and vibrant nature, the chaotic and evil abyss—how could the essence of all three coexist within a single soul? You resemble the Dungeon Mother, yet in so many ways you do not. What is it about you that is so extraordinary?"
"I do not know," Tasha replied. "I wish I did."
The voice paused, perhaps startled by the sincerity of her answer.
The void around them dissolved as an elf mage materialized before Tasha. His face bore the rare signs of age among the Wood Elves—a sign he had lived to a ripe old age and would return to the earth within a decade or two.
Tasha's answers thus far had earned her the basic respect of a face-to-face conversation with this elf mage.
"What do you want?" the elf mage asked.
Many had asked Tasha this question.
Victor had asked her when she chose to extend her influence from the underground to the surface. They had asked her when she protected and embraced the mixed-blooded outsiders. As her power grew incrementally, her sphere of influence expanding again and again, countless enemies shouted on battlefields, argued at conference tables, and muttered in their own homes, asking time and again: What do you want?
Upon reflection, Tasha's answer had never changed.
"For a better world," Tasha said.
She certainly had her ambitions, her desires, but each time Tasha gave this reply, her heart and words were one.
"Define 'better,'" the elf mage said.
Tasha remained silent; this question needed no elaboration. Now she grasped the essence of the spell "Without Deception." Opening her mind, she revealed the images within.
When she envisioned "better," she saw—
Adventurers of every race weaving their threads, fairy dust concealing their tracks beneath the watchful eyes of angels and monsters; Mages conjuring portals, transporting allies from every corner to this place; Druids provided the venue and writing materials, while the Forest Covenant from the Sacred Tree witnessed their resolve... All races of the earth gathered here for the survival of the plane, swearing to oppose both Hell and Heaven. After the solemn signing, banquet music filled the air as guests of every race transformed the Erian Declaration venue into a playground.
Over three hundred newlywed couples arrived hand in hand, having met and pledged their lives together amidst the turmoil of Tasmalin. Newcomers and natives, heirs of Erian's mainstream civilization and descendants of minority tribes—people whose differences were plain to see—stepped into the halls of matrimony. The former Temple of Saroth served as the wedding venue, where bands and choirs took turns singing. The vows and attire of the newlyweds were as varied as the smiles lighting up their faces. During the latter part of the celebration, tipsy guests and newlyweds shared hearty laughter, while witches atop the church summoned fairies unseen for centuries.
Negotiations regarding the dismantling of the Nightfall Barrier had reached their fifth round, each session bringing greater promise than the last. Druids began teaching across the empire, mages selected apprentices, and imperial paladins cautiously observed the Sarro priests of Tasmarin, exchanging nods of mutual recognition. The shadow of the Abyssal Passage weighed upon them, accelerating alliances under its pressure. Populations began shifting, two clumps of pressed clay starting to blend. As ancient enemies reemerged, the radiance of the Erian Declaration also regained its trace.
"The Abyssal Passage did not fully close last time," Tashar declared. "I wish to complete what remains unfinished. Lend me your aid."
"I want to believe you," the elf mage said solemnly, "but I cannot bring myself to trust that souls from the Abyss could harbor even a shred of goodwill toward the creatures of the Material Plane. I must conduct a test. If it proves my suspicions are mere prejudice, I will apologize and give you my answer."
Tasha nodded.
She hesitated not at all. She was neither a true creation of the Abyss nor harbored ill will toward creatures of the Material Plane. If all the mage sought was proof of her goodwill, such a test was too simple. Tasha allowed the elf mage's spell to sweep over her soul. The light of that detection spell brushed over her, yet found nothing to read.
Tasha suddenly realized the "soul from the Abyss" the elf mage spoke of wasn't referring to her at all.
The spell's detection followed some invisible link through the dungeon's core, along the magic pool, and surged into the cocoon enveloping Victor.