The return journey toward the Forest of Exilia took place under a sky slowly shifting from violet to cobalt blue, dotted with the first celestial lanterns of Alius. Opes, with its glass spires and royal secrets, was now a distant glow behind them, a gem set among the mountains that felt almost like a dreamlike mirage.
The path was lined with "Whispering Oak" trees, whose leaves emitted a sweet metallic sound as the wind passed. Hayjin walked beside Rhaegalur, wrapped in his oversized cloak, still feeling the lingering warmth of Wren's kiss on his cheek a warmth he stubbornly tried to ignore, but which resurfaced every time the silence grew too deep.
After hours of walking broken only by the snapping of branches, Hayjin instinctively reached for the back of his neck. The skin was smooth. The constant burning, that sense of an alien "presence" that had tormented him since his arrival, had vanished under Wren's veil.
"Rhaegalur," Hayjin began, breaking the silence with a voice that betrayed a hint of lingering anxiety. "Do you think it really worked? That girl... Wren... does she really have the strength to hide me from the eyes of that Cult? I mean, they are ancient; they have powers I don't understand. Can a veil of water really be enough to leave me in peace?"
The former Dragon God did not slow his pace, but his golden pupils shined in the darkness as he scanned the horizon. "Wren's mana is no common water, Hayjin. It is royal blood, purified by generations of bonds with the primordial springs of Alius. The Mark is still there, don't deceive yourself; it pulses beneath your skin like a black heart. But for now, it is as if it has been wrapped in a shroud of crystal. To the Cult, you have become a shadow among shadows. Their search will be infinitely harder, almost impossible, unless you decide to unleash a power great enough to tear the veil."
Rhaegalur shot a sidelong glance at the boy, noticing that his posture was less rigid than it had been that morning. "But tell me... rather than worrying about ghosts, how was it to spend time in the heart of the kingdom? And with a princess of the Opes bloodline, no less? It's not every day one receives private lessons in a royal garden."
Hayjin blushed slightly, pulling up his hood to hide his face. "In the end... it wasn't so bad. Actually, if I'm being honest, I had a lot of fun. Wren is... loud, arrogant, and definitely too enthusiastic, but she has a way of seeing things that made me forget for a moment that I'm trapped in a child's body."
He paused, looking at the palm of his hand. "And besides, I learned a spell. It's weak, I know. A drop of water that would barely wet an ant. But I felt it, Rhaegalur. I felt something moving inside me, like a string being plucked for the first time."
Rhaegalur nodded solemnly. "It is perfectly normal for it to be weak. You are like a newborn trying to lift a war hammer. Mana is a muscle of the soul, Hayjin. Only with time and iron discipline will you learn to refine your flow, to shape the raw matter of reality according to your will. What you felt today was only the first cry."
"So... do I have mana too?" Hayjin asked, stopping for a moment. "I mean, in my world these things don't exist. I thought I was a sort of 'empty vessel' filled only by that cursed Mark."
"Every living being possesses mana, Hayjin," Rhaegalur explained, stopping as well and turning toward him. "From the dragons that soar through the clouds to the smallest insect crawling in the mud. Some more, some less. Mana is the life energy of every living being that holds the world of Alius together. You, coming from another world, might have a different resonance perhaps purer or more unstable but the source is the same. Sooner or later, if you know how to listen, you will succeed in refining yours and making it sing."
Hayjin clenched his fists, looking up at the imposing man before him. The frustration of the beating he took from the drunken hero still burned in his chest. The humiliation of being protected, of always being the "little one" to be saved, was becoming unbearable for his adult mind.
"Then teach me," Hayjin said, his gaze fixed on Rhaegalur's. "Teach me to use magic. Teach me to control my mana better than anyone else. I want the next time I find myself in front of a Cult member, or a failed hero, or any other threat, I won't have to wait for you to arrive and stop a sword with a finger. I want to know how to defend myself. I want to be the one capable of defending myself, without anyone's help."
Rhaegalur looked at him for a long time, the silence of the forest seeming to amplify the tension between them. Finally, he shook his head slowly. "I will help you... but only with words, Hayjin. I will give you instructions, I will explain the laws that govern energy, but I will not teach you specific techniques or skills. I will not be your master-at-arms nor your magical tutor."
Hayjin's eyes widened, caught by a surge of anger. "And why not? You are a Dragon God! You know secrets that the mages of Opes can't even dream of! Why deny your help to someone trying to survive in this world?"
"Precisely because I am a God, Hayjin," Rhaegalur replied, his voice suddenly regaining that ancestral resonance that made the leaves tremble. "My magic is not yours. I command the elements by birthright, not by study. If I tried to teach you my way of manipulating the world, I would destroy your body in an instant. And there is more: you must find your magical affinity on your own. If I molded you in my image, you would only be a poor copy of a dragon vulnerable and incomplete. I have neither the time nor the desire to teach you the ABCs of human magic. You will have to sweat for every single spark."
Hayjin cursed under his breath, but Rhaegalur continued undeterred.
"I will give you a few fundamental instructions. I will tell you how not to explode when you draw too much mana. But if you really want to learn to use magic 100%, if you want to become a mage worthy of the name... you should go study at the Magic Academy of Opes."
The boy started. Wren's words echoed in his mind: "You should have passed the first three years of the Academy!"
"The Academy…" Hayjin murmured. "Wren told me about it. But look at this body, Rhaegalur. Do you think I can sit in a classroom with children who were born breathing magic, while I still have to figure out how not to trip over my own legs? Maybe I'm not ready yet. If I went now, I'd be the last in the class, everyone's target... I'd be the king of idiots."
He started walking again, his gaze fixed on the ground. "First I have to find my affinity. I have to understand what I'm capable of doing. I want to go in there already prepared, already strong. I don't want to fall behind anyone. When I cross that threshold, I want even the professors to be surprised by me."
Rhaegalur let out a thunderous laugh, a sound that startled a flock of nocturnal birds nearby. He stepped toward Hayjin and gave him a pat on the back that almost sent him face-first into the dirt.
"There's my Hayjin!" Rhaegalur exclaimed happily. "Determination and arrogance. I congratulate you. I see the beating you took from the hero today was useful, after all. It awakened the warrior hiding inside you."
Hayjin massaged his back, shooting him a murderous look. "Shut your big mouth, God-of-my-shoes. Until we get home and I put something between my teeth, I don't want to hear another word about how 'educational' beatings are."
Rhaegalur smiled a rare and sincere gesture and resumed walking with a brisk pace. Beneath Wren's veil and beneath the hard shell of Hayjin's cynicism, a new bond was being born. They were no longer just a god and his burden; they were two traveling companions starting to look toward the same horizon of power and vindication.
The darkness of the Forest of Exilia was not like that of London's alleys. It wasn't made of smoke and a lack of streetlights; it was a living creature, dense as ink, that seemed to press against the skin. Ancient trees cast shadows that looked like claws ready to snatch travelers.
Rhaegalur, sensing Hayjin's discomfort as he repeatedly tripped over gnarled roots, raised his right hand. With a fluid gesture, he snapped his thumb against his index finger. Suddenly, at the tip of his finger, a small but incredibly vivid flame burst forth. It was no common fire: the flame was a pure golden-white, emitting a warmth that smelled of ozone and honey, and its light did not dance with the wind but remained steady, piercing the gloom for meters.
"Use this as a guide," Rhaegalur said, his low voice echoing in the forest silence. "The darkness of Exilia has eyes, but it fears the fire of the one who created it."
Hayjin stared at that living candle with a mix of envy and admiration. "Convenient. Saves on torches and matches. Is this what you mean by 'affinity'? Turning your body into a lighter?"
Rhaegalur chuckled. "It is much more than that, little scientist. It is the will becoming matter. But stay focused, the road is still "
Rustle. Crack.
The sound of snapping branches suddenly exploded from the thick brush to their right. Someone was running frantically, without grace, breathing heavily. Before Rhaegalur could lower his guard or Hayjin could prepare himself, a figure emerged like a projectile from the shadows.
"Aah!" a high-pitched scream broke the silence.
The figure, blinded by the sudden light of Rhaegalur's "candle," couldn't stop. They collided head-on with Hayjin with such force that he was thrown to the ground. The two rolled in the mud and dry leaves, ending up in a tangle of limbs and cloaks.
"Dammit... again?!" Hayjin growled, feeling the weight of someone on top of him. An almost irritating sense of déjà-vu struck him: it was the second time in a few hours that a girl had literally fallen on him out of nowhere.
Rhaegalur quickly approached, illuminating the scene with his flaming finger. With his free hand, he gently gripped the stranger's shoulder to help them up. "Easy, little one. The forest is not a nighttime race track. Are you alright?"
The girl shook off the mud, panting. She had ebony-dark hair gathered in a messy braid and wore a robe of fine silk, now stained and torn. Her eyes, a golden yellow filled with exhaustion, landed first on Rhaegalur and then on the boy she had just used as a mattress.
"I... yes, I think so. I'm sorry! I am so sorry!" she exclaimed, looking at Hayjin with an expression of pure embarrassment. "I was out north of the walls to practice my mana flow... I thought I knew the path, but the mist came down suddenly and I lost my bearings. I went too deep and now... now I don't know which way leads back to Opes!"
She realized she was still partially on top of Hayjin and jumped up as if she had touched a hot iron, offering him her hand to help him up. "Really, sorry. I didn't mean to run you over like that. I couldn't see a thing until that... that incredible light appeared."
Hayjin accepted the hand with a sigh of resignation, dusting off his tunic. "Are you all the same in this kingdom? You run without looking and hope there's always a Hayjin ready to cushion the fall?"
Rhaegalur arched an eyebrow, studying the golden embroidery on the girl's tunic. They were the symbols of the Water Phoenix, the seal of the royal lineage. "You said you're looking for the road to Opes. Do you live at the castle?"
The girl straightened her back, trying to recover a shred of royal dignity despite the mud on her face. "Yes. I am the eldest daughter of the royal family. My name is Zhilian."
Hayjin froze, staring at her with wide eyes. Another one? he thought. Wait a minute. The eldest daughter? So you're Wren's sister?
Zhilian started at her sister's name. "You know little Wren? Then you really have been to the castle! Yes, I am her elder sister. But how do you know..."
Rhaegalur took a step forward, the flame on his finger growing warmer and more intense. A smug smile appeared on his face. "Fortune seems to have a special eye for us tonight. Princess Zhilian, it is an unusual pleasure to find you wandering like a refugee among the oaks of Exilia."
"Rhaegalur, are you sure? It could be dangerous," Hayjin intervened, pulling Rhaegalur by the sleeve and speaking in a low voice. "Can we trust her? What if it's a trap from the Cult? A princess getting lost exactly as we're returning? It's too convenient."
Rhaegalur shook his head. "I feel her mana, Hayjin. It's the same as Wren's, but denser, more mature. She is pure as the source. There is no deceit here, only a girl too proud to admit she lost her way." Then he turned to Zhilian: "Princess, it is late into the night. The dangers of the forest and wandering shadows haunt this path. Returning to Opes now would take hours, and you'd risk falling into some deep gorge. Our home is not far. Come, eat and rest for the night if you wish. Tomorrow, at first light, we will escort you to the gates."
Zhilian took a step back, her gaze full of suspicion. "I do not know you. My mother warned me of strangers offering hospitality in the forests. Who are you to speak with such authority before a royal of Opes?"
Rhaegalur sighed. He knew that with the eldest daughter, "Silas's" diplomacy wouldn't be enough. He straightened up, letting his stature seem to double. The flame on his finger extended, becoming a small crown of fire dancing around his hand. He bowed with a grace that no human creature could ever replicate.
"I apologize for my lack of etiquette, Your Highness. Before you stands no simple hermit. I am Rhaegalur, he who was once called the Dragon God, ancestral guardian of these lands."
The silence that followed was almost physical. Zhilian's eyes widened, staring at the man's features, the golden light of his eyes now shining unchecked. She had seen the paintings in the secret halls of the castle; she had read the texts in the royal library that spoke of the Lord of Scales who had withdrawn from the world.
"Rhaegalur…" she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. Suddenly, all her distrust vanished, replaced by an almost childlike enthusiasm. "The Dragon God! You are... you are truly him! I can't believe it! I've spent years studying your legends! You are my hero, the one who stopped the Second Eclipse of the Demon King! It's... it's an immense honor! I ask forgiveness for my insolence, I did not mean to disrespect you!"
She almost cheered, giving a small jump of joy that made Rhaegalur smile. "I accept! I accept with all my heart! It would be the greatest honor of my life to be a guest of the Dragon God! Oh, Wren will never believe it when I tell her!"
Hayjin looked at the scene with his hand over his face. "Great. Another fangirl. Rhaegalur, I hope Elara has enough food, because now we have an enthusiastic princess to feed."
"Don't worry, Hayjin," Rhaegalur said, extinguishing the flame on his finger now that the moon had emerged from the clouds, illuminating the path. "Elara can cook for four mouths without any trouble. And I believe Zhilian's company will be instructive for you. She is not like Wren; her magic is closer to discipline than pure instinct."
The three finally made their way toward the cabin. Zhilian did not stop peppering Rhaegalur with questions about the ancient history of Alius, while Hayjin walked a bit apart, observing the elder princess. Despite her enthusiasm, Zhilian emanated an innate elegance, a quiet strength that intrigued him.
As they arrived, the air around Rhaegalur's cabin was never still; it vibrated with electrical tension, a low hum that only those with magical sensitivity could perceive. As the trio emerged from the thick brush of Exilia, Hayjin noticed two colossal shadows perched on the thatched and stone roof and on the highest branches of the Ancient Oak overlooking the dwelling. They were the Guardian Dragons, creatures made of ebony scales and ember eyes, summoned by Rhaegalur to turn the house into an impregnable fortress during their absence.
Rhaegalur raised a hand, making a fluid gesture in the air. Without a cry, without a beat of wings, the dragons dissolved into a golden mist that vanished into the ground, reabsorbed by their creator's essence. Zhilian gasped, bringing a hand to her mouth in wonder; she had read of ethereal guardians, but seeing them vanish at a man's command was a lesson in power she would never forget.
As soon as they stepped onto the porch, the heavy wooden door swung open, flooding the woods with warm light and the heavenly scent of freshly baked bread and spiced root stew.
"You're back!" Elara exclaimed, rushing out with an enthusiasm that seemed to make even her simple forest-woman clothes shine. She pounced on Hayjin, lifting him almost off the ground in a hug that smelled of cinnamon and woodsmoke. "My little one, I was so worried! Opes is so different from your world; I feared you had gotten into trouble..."
Hayjin, smothered against Elara's apron, tried to squirm away with his usual trampled dignity, but a part of him the deepest and most hidden part surrendered to that maternal warmth he had never known in his world.
Then, Elara's gaze moved to the figure standing behind Rhaegalur. Her eyes widened in surprise. "And who is this splendid maiden? Don't tell me, Silas, that you kidnapped a forest nymph along the way!"
Zhilian, despite the mud and the torn tunic, stepped forward with a grace that did not belong in that wild place. She performed an impeccable bow, tilting her head with the elegance of one accustomed to moving among the velvets of thrones.
"My name is Zhilian, First Princess of the Lineage of Opes," she said in a voice that rang like silver. "I apologize for the nighttime intrusion and for my deplorable appearance, milady. The forest ambushed me, and the Great Rhaegalur had the magnanimity to offer me refuge."
Elara remained speechless for a moment, then a radiant smile lit up her face. She approached Zhilian and took her hands, completely ignoring royal etiquette. "A Princess! My, what a beauty... and what courage to wander Exilia at night. I am Elara. Welcome to our humble home, dear. There are no thrones here, but the hearth is always lit."
Rhaegalur intervened, placing a heavy hand on Elara's shoulder. "I hope it's not a problem if Zhilian stays to eat and sleep for the night. The mist has swallowed the paths, and it wouldn't be wise to send her back now."
"Problem? Are you joking?" Elara replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. "It would be an immense pleasure! Finally a bit of feminine grace in this house of gruff woodsmen and brooding boys. Zhilian, honey, come in right now. I'll prepare some hot water for you to wash and a place by the fire."
Zhilian smiled, her amber eyes shining with contagious enthusiasm. "Thank you infinitely, Elara. I don't know how to repay you. To be a guest in such a... mystical home is a dream come true!"
As Zhilian entered, observing every corner of the cabin with almost scientific wonder, Hayjin followed a few steps behind, hands thrust into his tunic pockets and an expression that could have curdled milk.
Here we go, Hayjin thought, shooting her a sidelong glance. Another stuck-up royal arrogant. Look at how she walks it looks like she's doing the floor a favor by stepping on it. 'Splendid maiden', 'Dream come true'... please. I bet tomorrow morning she'll expect someone to iron her cloak with fire magic while she explains to us how difficult life is within the castle walls.
Hayjin snorted loudly, sitting heavily on the wooden bench near the table. His adult mind struggled to digest this parade of nobility in the middle of his "forced vacation" in a fantasy world. Wren had been a hurricane, but Zhilian seemed to possess that aristocratic composure that reminded him of the worst university professors: kind in appearance, but deeply convinced they were made of a superior substance.
However, as Elara put the steaming bowls on the table and Zhilian thanked her with a warmth that seemed unfortunately for Hayjin's cynicism far too sincere, the boy realized that the peace of the forest was officially over. With a Princess at the table and the invisible Mark on his neck, the game for his return home had just gotten damnably more complicated, and decidedly more crowded.
"Eat, Hayjin," Rhaegalur whispered to him, sitting beside him with a playful glint in his eyes. "Or are you afraid the Princess's beauty will spoil your appetite?"
"The only thing it spoils is my patience," Hayjin growled, sinking his spoon into the stew while Zhilian began telling Elara about her mana training, in a tone that Hayjin found unbearably melodic.
The intense day closed thus between the crackling of wood and the murmur of feminine voices, while outside, the darkness of Exilia seemed to step aside, defeated by the warmth of a house that was becoming, despite everything, the true center of the world of Alius.
The Mark had changed Hayjin's destiny forever. But for that night, the silence of Exilia was all he needed.