Finn led Roya just past the edge of the village, near the thick trunk of an old, dying oak tree. The mid-afternoon air was still, heavy with the humid summer heat.
"Alright, we're far enough,"
Roya said, crossing her arms impatiently. She had herbs to catalog and a mother to check on. "Just tell me already.
What is so important?"
Finn turned around. His face was flushed, his breathing slightly erratic. Before Roya could blink, he lunged forward, grabbing both of her hands in a vice-like grip.
"Finn! What are you doing?" Roya snapped, trying to pull away.
"I've waited, Roya," Finn blurted out, his voice thick and urgent. He squeezed her hands tighter, ignoring her resistance. "I've waited all this time for you to turn of age. I can't wait anymore.
The other villagers... they don't understand you. But I do! Marry me, Roya. I will get you whatever you want.
I will protect you from everyone!"
Roya stood completely still.
For a few seconds, she was frozen in pure, unadulterated shock. Her sharp mind struggled to process the sheer absurdity of the situation.
When her brain finally caught up, her violet eyes narrowed into sharp, dangerous slits. She violently yanked her arms, but Finn was much larger and much stronger.
"Let go of me!" Roya demanded, her voice rising. "Are you insane? No way! I have a lot of things I want to do in this life, and I am absolutely not getting married right now. Especially not to someone I don't even like!"
The desperate, affectionate look on Finn's face shattered. His features twisted into something ugly and entitled.
"Why?!" Finn screamed, shaking her arms so hard Roya stumbled forward. "You know how I feel about you! You've known all along! Why won't you marry me?!"
"Ouch! Finn, let go right now, you're hurting me!"
"No!" Finn roared, his eyes wide and manic. "You have to marry me! Just say what you want! Is it money? I know how much you love money! I'll give you everything from the bakery! I'll give you all the coin I have, just tell me your price!"
Roya stopped struggling.
She looked up at Finn. Her hollow violet eyes suddenly erupted with a fierce, blinding light. The dormant energy inside her roared to life. Her deep purple hair lifted off her shoulders, defying gravity, waving wildly in the still summer air.
For the first time, Finn witnessed her true power up close. He wasn't terrified. Instead, his manic expression morphed into absolute, fascinated awe. His mouth fell open slightly as he stared at her glowing hair and radiant eyes, entirely captivated by the supernatural sight.
Then, the Aether hit him.
Dense, compressed energy surged directly from Roya's skin, shooting into Finn's hands. Microscopic threads wrapped viciously around his pain receptors, squeezing them with the force of a crushed bone.
"AAAAAAAH!" Finn shrieked, his awe instantly shattering into absolute agony.
His grip broke immediately. He fell backward into the dirt, clutching his hands to his chest as if they had been plunged into a roaring fire. He writhed on the ground, tears streaming down his face as the pain paralyzed his nerves.
Roya stood over him, the purple light slowly fading from her eyes.
"Don't ever," Roya whispered, her voice cold and absolute, "try to come close to me again."
She turned on her heel and started walking in a slightly different direction, heading straight toward the far edge of the village where her small house sat isolated near the fields.
Behind her, Finn dragged himself onto his knees, his face red and contorted with humiliation and rage. "I will make you regret this!" he screamed after her. "Do you hear me, Roya?! You're going to regret this!"
Roya didn't look back.
She reached her house, slipping through the door and slamming it shut. She leaned against the wood, taking a deep, shaky breath to calm her racing heart.
"Roya?" Elara called from the bed. "Is everything alright? You look pale."
"It's nothing, Mom," Roya said smoothly, forcing her heartbeat to steady. "I just had a stupid quarrel with Finn.
That's all. I'm going to pack my bags for Hibi Village tomorrow."
The next morning, Roya decided to dress a little better than her usual patched work clothes. She dug into an old wooden chest and pulled out one of Elara's old dresses—a sturdy, well-tailored dark tunic her mother used to wear before they had lost everything. It was a little loose on her, but the thick fabric and clean cut made her look much more like a respectable traveling herbalist and far less like a street urchin. She grabbed her empty satchel and headed to the village square.
She immediately felt the change in the air. The villagers weren't whispering today. They weren't gossiping. Instead, as Roya walked past the stalls, the merchants and farmers simply stopped what they were doing and stared at her in dead silence.
Their eyes were filled with deep disgust and lingering fear. She saw a few mothers pull their children inside. She saw a man wearing the Church's wooden pendant spit on the ground as she passed.
Roya kept her face entirely blank. She averted her eyes, marched straight to the transport station, and climbed into the back of a large wooden cart.
The cart was pulled by two massive Blue-Horn Bulls—heavy, muscular beasts with thick, azure-colored horns famous for navigating treacherous dirt roads. With a crack of the driver's whip, the bulls began to pull, and Oakhaven slowly faded into the distance.
The road to Hibi Village was incredibly bumpy but clear. For hours, Roya watched the endless stretches of farmlands and rolling green hills pass by. Eventually, the polite, cultivated fields gave way to wilder, untamed earth.
By mid-morning, they arrived at Hibi Village.
While still a remote border settlement, it was noticeably larger and much more developed than Oakhaven.
Sturdy wooden lodges lined the streets, bustling with rugged trappers, traveling merchants, and seasoned hunters. Hibi Village existed for one singular purpose: it sat right on the edge of the Great Kira Forest.
Roya stood at the edge of the village, looking out. The Great Kira Forest was a breathtaking, terrifying sight. It was an endless ocean of dark green, its towering ancient trees stretching as far as the eye could see. It was so dense the sunlight barely pierced the canopy.
(I wonder what it's really like inside,) Roya thought, feeling a rare moment of genuine awe. (And what kind of kingdom exists beyond it?)
Since these border villages were so remote, information was scarce. The only news came from the wild, exaggerated tales of the older locals.
Roya made her way to a small, cluttered herb stall. Sitting behind it was Old Bael, a weathered merchant with a gray beard and skin like tanned leather. He was one of the few people who didn't care about village rumors; he only cared that her silver coins were real.
"Ah, the purple-haired haggler returns," Old Bael chuckled, handing her bundles of dried sun-root and bitter-leaf.
While Roya carefully inspected the quality of the herbs, Old Bael launched into one of his famous stories.
"Did I ever tell you about the time I got lost deep in the Kira Forest during my adventuring days?" Bael asked, leaning forward conspiratorially.
"Stranded for a whole month. I was starving, bleeding, practically on death's door. But then... I stumbled upon it. The Crimson Heaven Lake.?
Roya paused, looking up. "A lake?"
"Not just any lake," Bael said, his eyes distant. "The water was glowing red, like fresh blood under the moonlight. But the moment I drank from it, my wounds closed. My strength returned.
I was completely healthy in a matter of hours! I tried to find my way back with a map later, but the lake was gone. Swallowed by the forest."
Roya smirked, raising an eyebrow. "How can a lake be 'heavenly' and 'bloody' at the exact same time, old man? Sounds like a hallucination from eating poisonous mushrooms."
"I can't fully explain it," Bael huffed, offended. He crossed his arms firmly. "But I know what I saw. You'll understand the irony of it if you ever see it yourself."
Roya laughed, packing her herbs into her satchel. "Sure, sure. Well, it's about time for the last cart back to Oakhaven to leave. See you next month, Old Bael. Don't die before I get back."
"Cheeky brat," Bael grumbled fondly as she ran off.
A light, misty rain had begun to fall from the gray sky. Roya pulled her hood up and hurried to the transport station, climbing into the back of the covered cart just as the driver cracked his whip.
She sat down heavily, wiping the cold raindrops from her face and clothes.
It was only then that she realized the cart wasn't empty.
Sitting opposite her, leaning casually against the wooden slats with one leg stretched out, was another passenger.
He definitely wasn't from anywhere near Oakhaven.
He was clearly older than her, looking to be about twenty-two years old, with broad, relaxed shoulders. He wore fitted,
lightweight armor—dark leather reinforced with dull silver plating—that looked expensive and battle-tested. A long sword rested effortlessly across his lap. But the most striking thing about him was his hair. It was a deep, mesmerizing shade of dark blue.
Roya stared at him, her sharp mind trying to calculate who he was. (Light armor. A sword. Fancy clothes underneath. An adventurer? A noble's guard?)
The young man slowly turned his head, catching her intense gaze. His face was impossibly handsome, but his expression was incredibly bland, carrying an aura of absolute, freezing indifference.
"What are you looking at?" he asked, his voice smooth but laced with a smug, arrogant edge. "Never seen a handsome man before?"
Roya's jaw dropped slightly in disbelief. She quickly composed her face, narrowing her eyes. "You? Handsome? Don't be delusional. I was just staring at that weird, unnatural blue hair of yours."
The young man didn't even blink. He let out a dry, mocking breath of a laugh.
"Ah. The irony," he said flatly, looking her up and down. "The purple-headed weirdo is calling someone else weird."
Roya gritted her teeth, annoyed by his complete lack of reaction. "Whatever. Why is someone dressed like you even out here in these remote areas?"
The blue-haired man leaned his head back against the wooden slats, closing his eyes dismissively. "I have no reason to tell you that, brat."
(Dammit!) Roya bit her inner cheek, her face flushing with pure irritation. (This smug jackass... I wish I could just punch him in his perfect face once!)
Unable to think of a good comeback, she let out an angry "Hmmph!" and aggressively turned her head, staring out the back of the cart into the rain for the rest of the journey.
The blue-haired man simply slept, completely unbothered.
Hours later, the cart rattled to a halt.
"Oakhaven!" the driver yelled over the rain.
Roya hopped out of the cart, adjusting her heavy satchel. The blue-haired stranger didn't move, presumably heading to the next town on the route.
It was late afternoon, the sun beginning its descent toward the horizon.
As Roya walked up the main dirt path of the village, her footsteps slowed. Something was wrong.
The market square, usually bustling with merchants packing up their stalls for the evening, was entirely deserted. The streets were dead silent.
As Roya looked closer, she noticed that the few villagers she could see were actively hiding. They were peeking out from behind heavy wooden shutters, their faces pale.
Even Madame Clara's tailor shop—which was always open until sundown—had its heavy iron lock firmly secured on the front door.
(Why is everyone hiding?) Roya thought, her heart picking up a nervous rhythm.
She didn't care about the market. She only cared about one thing.
She broke into a sprint, heading toward the small hill at the edge of the village where her house sat. The air felt heavy. Oppressive.
As she neared the final uphill turn, a strange, bitter scent hit her nose.
Ash.
Roya rounded the corner, her boots skidding to a halt in the mud.
Her satchel of herbs slipped from her shoulder, hitting the ground.
Her broken, humble, beautiful little home was completely engulfed in roaring, violent orange flames.
Thick plumes of black smoke billowed into the dark evening sky.