Anahita froze.
The golden light that had been shining around her body suddenly went out. The brightness in her eyes faded, and her gaze turned cold and lifeless—as if something had been torn out of her very being.
Wherever the mist touched, life died.
Trees withered within seconds. Leaves turned black and brittle, falling apart as they hit the ground. The earth beneath them darkened and cracked, like soil that had not known a single breath of life for years.
And then—
the mist reached Lioran's mother.
The body nailed to the tree trembled for a moment—not from life, but from the draining of the last traces of energy within it. Whatever little force still lingered inside her was devoured by the mist. Her skin lost its color, sinking and wrinkling further, as if she had not died today but many years ago.
It looked as though time itself had emptied its weight upon the corpse.
A bird perched on a branch above her body suddenly fell.
Its wings didn't even move.
A deadly silence swallowed the forest.
Anahita snapped back to herself, breathing sharply in horror. Her voice trembled as she spoke,
"Damn it… if this keeps going… the entire forest will die… I have to stop it… I have to use all my power…"
Her gaze fell on Lioran again—
his unmoving body, his white unfocused eyes, and the mist that kept pouring out of him without end, like a wound that refused to close.
Anahita clenched her teeth.
With the last strength she had left, she shouted,
"Divine Light!"
At that instant, a light as brilliant as the sun erupted from her body.
The entire forest was illuminated, as if daylight had suddenly returned.
The wave of light pushed the mist back—
burning it away.
After about twenty seconds, the spell Anahita had cast slowly began to fade.
The golden light gradually weakened, and darkness fell over the forest again like a heavy curtain.
Anahita had fallen to her knees.
The light that had surrounded her body was now only a faint line. Exhaustion was clearly written across her face; her breathing uneven, her body trembling—as if she might fall apart and vanish at any moment.
She placed a hand on her forehead and murmured weakly,
"Damn it… I lost too much mana…
I don't think I'll be able to come out for a few days…"
Then she looked toward Lioran.
He lay naked on the ground, where traces of the gray mist still lingered—a dead patch of earth, cold and lifeless.
Lioran's eyes were closed, and his face seemed calm, as if Anahita's spell had temporarily silenced the storm raging in his mind.
In a weak but gentle voice, Anahita said,
"I'm sorry, Lioran…
That was all I could do…"
The remaining light around her body flickered.
And before it completely faded, she added softly,
"I hope...until I get my strength back.
you don't do anything foolish…"
In that moment, her presence sank back into Lioran's body—
and the forest was left alone in a heavy, suffocating silence.
The moon was hidden behind a thick layer of smoke rising from a massive fire. Its pale light didn't even dare reach the ground.
The forest no longer looked like a forest.
The trees stood black and dry.
The ground beneath them was cracked—dark and dead—and where the cursed mist had passed through, the earth still did not breathe.
No birds flew. No insects made a sound.
A crushing silence smothered everything.
In the heart of that devastation, only one sound remained—
the sound of fire.
Flames burning slowly,
like silent witnesses to the tragedy that had unfolded there.
.....
The door of the small, nearly empty restaurant burst open with a sharp bang.
Two women—both appearing to be around thirty—stormed inside with flushed faces and eyes burning with anger. Behind them walked two thirteen-year-old boys. Their faces and foreheads were smeared with blood, their clothes dirty and disheveled, their gazes filled with resentment.
One of the women shouted, her voice trembling with rage,
"Who made my son bleed?!
Come out! Show yourself!"
The second woman stepped forward, clenching her fists, her anger raw and unmistakable.
"Which bastard dared to lay a hand on my kid?
Come out here, you coward!"
For a moment, the restaurant fell into a heavy silence.
Suddenly, one of the boys spoke, his voice shaking but loud.
"There, Mom… it's him…"
The other quickly cut in, pointing with a trembling finger.
"Yeah—him! That damn kid!
He's the one who beat us!"
All eyes turned toward a single spot.
A seven-year-old boy stood on the other side of the restaurant—thin, quiet, and still.
His right eye glowed a deep red, while his left was a cold, clear blue; an unsettling contrast that instinctively made one uneasy.
There was no fear on his face.
No regret.
He simply stared at them with a cold, emotionless gaze—a look that didn't belong to a child his age.
It was as if he wasn't the prey… but the one waiting.
Both women fixed their eyes on the small boy at the same time.
Sharp, heavy looks filled with anger.
Their footsteps echoed across the empty restaurant floor as they walked toward him.
One of the women stopped a step ahead, bent slightly, then turned her head toward the two bloodied boys behind her. With a voice mixed with mockery and irritation, she said,
"Hah? You two idiots got beaten by a little kid?
He's not even half your size."
The two boys lowered their heads in shame and said nothing.
The other woman frowned and shook her head.
"Honestly… that's pathetic."
Then suddenly she reached forward, clenched her fist, and grabbed the seven-year-old boy by the hair, yanking it hard.
The child's head was forced back, but not even a single cry escaped his lips.
Grinding her teeth, the woman snarled right into his face,
"You may be small…
but you hit my son."
She paused for a moment, tightening her grip on his hair before continuing,
"Since your whore of a mother couldn't raise you properly, I'll teach you some manners myself."
The boy's gaze was cold.
Not a trace of fear appeared on his face at the woman's words, nor did he open his mouth to call for help.
Slowly, he raised his hand…
and grabbed the wrist that was pulling his hair.
The pressure came suddenly.
With a muffled cry, the woman lost her balance. Her knees buckled and she dropped down, her grip loosening as the boy's hair slipped from her fingers. A scream of pain burst from her throat.
The other woman and the two teenage boys froze.
They stared at the seven-year-old boy in fear and disbelief.
The boy didn't even turn his head toward the woman's scream.
With his other hand, he grabbed the woman's brown hair—this time tighter—and pulled her head up.
Their faces were now level.
The boy's red eye glowed faintly,
while his blue eye was frozen and emotionless.
In a cold, calm voice without the slightest tremble, he said,
"I swear on my mother…"
He paused for a moment. His grip tightened.
"If you ever say my mother's name again with that filthy mouth of yours… I'll come to your house."
His gaze grew deeper.
"I'll tie you to a chair and kill every member of your family right in front of you. After they're all dead, it'll be your turn… but don't think your death will be as simple as theirs."
Then he asked mercilessly,
"Do you understand?"
The woman could only stare at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. Her tongue was tied; her mind refused to work.
The boy pulled her hair slightly and said again in that frozen voice,
"I said, do you understand, you useless woman?"
"Y-yes… I understand…"
Her voice trembled as tears ran down her cheeks.
The boy released her hair, stepped back, and said,
"Get lost."
The woman scrambled to her feet, grabbed the arm of the other woman—who was still standing there in shock—and hurried out of the restaurant with the boys, fear pushing them forward.
Silence returned.
And the boy stood there, his expression unchanged.
Then suddenly a voice came from behind him.
"What happened, Lioran? Who was here?"