Hearing Faen's command, the group didn't hesitate for a moment, moving to guard the entrance of the Dreaming Pool.
As Faen stepped into the waters of the Dreaming Pool, his eyes were soon filled with numerous drifting illusions.
Within these illusions, Faen could clearly feel the confusion, pain, bewilderment, hatred, and anger intertwined with fleeting moments of happiness.
Passing through the mirages, what met his eyes was an ancient, dense forest.
This must be somewhere in Ionia, hundreds of years ago... Sensing the surrounding environment, Faen followed the guidance of the Spirit Realm.
As an entity of the Spirit Realm himself, he could feel a lost soul lingering just ahead.
Walking along a winding path through the same ancient, tranquil forest was a white-haired girl.
She had no mind to admire the scenery. Her face was filled with indignation as her small, bare, white feet hurried down the path, tears shimmering in her eyes.
Glowing flutter-bugs danced in the twilight, leaving trails of luminescence in their wake. But the girl simply swatted them away heavily, paying no mind to their fleeting elegance.
Her eyes were cast downward, kicking a stone and letting it bounce among the tangled tree roots, completely ignoring the sunset filtering through the dense canopy.
The petals of a purple night-mink flower slowly opened, releasing glowing pollen into the warm twilight, but as she hurried past, she casually snapped its stem.
It was as if an invisible demon was subtly whispering to her that she didn't deserve to be treated this way.
Her delicate cheeks burned red with shame and anger.
Her mother's reprimands still echoed in her ears, but the mocking laughter of her brother and the other children lingered even more persistently.
She was a girl prone to wandering thoughts, often involuntarily drawn to seemingly ordinary things in nature.
Like the shadows dancing in a pond under the moonlight, or a line of ants carrying food much heavier than their own bodies.
And every time she subconsciously zoned out or lost focus, her mother would scold her for her lack of attention.
If that was just because she lacked focus, then fine, but blaming her for the milk souring in the house? Syndra didn't want to understand, nor did she care to.
Her older brother, Evard, was also a mischievous, unruly child. He never knew how to care for his family and always loved to mock her.
Whenever this happened, Syndra would flee to her favorite secret base—just like she was doing now—beneath the Spirit Willow that the villagers revered as a sacred tree.
As the land spirit of the village, the Spirit Willow possessed a tolerant wisdom, though it rarely spoke.
But Syndra didn't care; she just wanted a friend she could pour her heart out to.
Whenever she was sad, she would whisper to the Spirit Willow for hours, mending her wounded heart through confession.
But as Syndra was running quickly toward the Spirit Willow, she suddenly sensed something.
The girl stopped in her tracks, looked back at the broken petals on the path, and frowned.
Everything felt slightly... off.
She realized she seemed to have an impression of this exact scene—a very clear one—as if she had experienced it countless times before.
But soon, the girl shook her head, stopped thinking about it, sniffled, and continued running toward the Spirit Willow.
Before long, the girl finally arrived before the sacred tree.
Its languid branches drifted as if in water, brushing against each other and emitting a wind-chime-like whisper.
Just by approaching, the girl could clearly feel the unseen spirits in the surroundings laughing joyfully.
Though the fire of anger still burned fiercely within her, sensing these emotions, the girl closed her eyes and clenched her fists.
After a long silence, she slowly took a breath—just as the elders had taught her—trying hard to suppress her fury.
But just as the girl felt her heart gradually calming down and her inner anger subsiding...
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
Her body jolted. Syndra fell face-forward in front of the Spirit Willow.
A few blood-stained stones landed on the ground with hard thuds.
She reached back with one hand and touched the back of her head where the stones had struck; it was already slick with blood.
Then, she heard a burst of mocking laughter.
The fury she had tried so hard to suppress surged back up within her heart.
She stood up and looked behind her.
Meeting her eyes were her brother and the other children from the village.
She couldn't understand why they always had to bully her like this.
As her older brother, shouldn't he protect her? Why was he standing with those bad kids to bully her?
She also couldn't understand why her mother always blamed her. Even for the same mistakes, she was always severely punished and scolded, while her brother suffered barely any consequences.
As she thought about it, the many confusions and doubts in Syndra's heart seemed to reach their absolute limit in that moment.
Syndra could no longer suppress her emotions.
All her anger erupted from her body—at this exact moment, just as her dormant power was about to awaken.
"I see."
"Huh?"
Hearing a voice from the side, Syndra, who was just about to explode, froze for a moment.
She, along with the others, turned her gaze toward the source of the sound.
Pushing his way out of the woods with some effort, Faen glanced at the bewildered brats, then at Syndra, and finally at the Spirit Willow.
Though Syndra and the brats hadn't noticed, Faen could clearly sense it: the moment Syndra began to release her innate power, the Spirit Willow beside her had started swaying violently, its branches already beginning to curl and wither.
Seeing an adult arrive, both Syndra and the brats showed traces of worry and fear on their faces.
However, compared to the brats, Syndra—who had never received validation from her parents—appeared much more timid.
Often, even when the other kids bullied her first, their parents would just brush it off with a few careless words.
But when she fought back, her own mother would blame her for causing trouble and being a burden to the family.
While Syndra was still worrying, the thing she dreaded most happened.
Faen raised his hand and pointed it straight at her.
As Syndra's heart sank to the bottom of a valley, and the very air around her began to ripple with twisting black energy, Faen spoke: "You are not in the wrong."
"...Eh?" Hearing this, the little girl, who had been falling into disappointment and despair, was momentarily stunned.
Immediately after, Faen rolled up his sleeves and walked toward the group of brats.
"I'll deal with them first. We can talk about everything else later!"