***

  At night, when Tao's father and Sigi were away, Eleya would usually arrive to continue teaching him the subtle art of sensing the spirits. So, the boy sought every opportune moment to explore his novel ways of comprehending spells. One after another, Tao invoked the everyday spells, marveling at the vivid clarity with which their inner structure unfolded in his mind. Not only could he discern the recurring components embedded in different spells, but he also understood the unique purpose of each. Tao was so enraptured that he dared to experiment even on nights when his father and Sigi were at home.

  Sereni, for his part, typically dismissed the everyday magic produced by Sofra, Indres, or other adults. As long as Tao employed only meager doses of spirit power, he believed that he would remain safe.

  The water-freezing spell, however, was among the simplest. One element required the gentle release of spirit power from the hand in measured, modest bursts, while another component controlled the distance. Tao had, by his own efforts, learned to project his spirit power beyond his body, enabling him to reproduce the effect without relying on that particular incantation. Yet the most demanding challenge lay in that crucial element—transforming the very nature of the spirit power to extract energy from water molecules, slowing them until they halted and assumed the characteristic hexagonal structure of ice.

  In the past, whenever Tao summoned a spell and attempted to concentrate his attention on tracking the transformation of his spirit power, his efforts would inadvertently disrupt the spell itself. Now, however, the very details of the incantation filled his mind. He no longer perceived the spell’s architecture as a cryptic diagram written in a foreign tongue but rather as a living mechanism whose parts operated right before his eyes.

  It remained essential, still, to visualize the desired effect—to imbue the spirit power with the ability to extract energy from water molecules, causing them to slow, cease their motion, and crystallize into the ice’s familiar six-sided pattern. Yet no longer was this merely a wish, a hope, or a random experiment; it had become a deliberate command, a specific ordering of action according to an established pattern.

  Then, the water Tao had poured upon the floor solidified beneath his hand.

  “At last!” he exclaimed with a smile, overwhelmed by unspeakable satisfaction.

  Usually, the boy refrained from speaking aloud while the family slept, but tonight, his joy refused to be contained.

  It had been over two years since Tao had embarked upon these experiments—with his reckless use of spirit power having endangered both himself and others. That his persistent efforts to understand the spells had not been fruitless was a deep solace to him.

  “Whatever are you doing?”

  Startled by a sudden voice beside him, Tao spun around. On the floor lay a diminutive figure clad in a dress of grass and leaves. In a matter of moments, he recognized Eleya’s slender form; the tiny creature’s inquisitive gaze, with yellow eyes that shimmered in the darkness, was fixed upon him.

  “Why… Why are you sneaking up?” Tao whispered.

  “I did not sneak up—I approached from the side that suited me best,” she replied, her face pouting.

  “I didn't hear you…” he murmured.

  “Well, you always worry that someone might be roused—especially that hound—so I kept quiet. But I did not sneak up,” she replied stubbornly.

  Taking a deep breath, Tao settled on the floor to regain his composure. His many late-night training sessions had finely attuned him to the subtlest sounds—the rustle of bushes outside the window when stirred by the wind, the gentle clatter of a window, footsteps as parents or sisters rose from bed, the scraping of Sigi’s claws against the floor, even the faint squeaks of rodents hidden in a cupboard or attic. It seemed to him that his hearing was gradually sharpening—even when he was not actively amplifying it with his spirit power—though he was not yet wholly confident in that. Never before had his family managed to surprise him during his midnight experiments and training; he always detected their approach in time. Even the rustle of fabric from Eleya’s leaf dress produced a distinct sound that he was able to perceive amid the night’s hush.

  “Forgive me—I… was jumpy,” Tao offered in apology.

  The moonlight streaming from outside revealed that the woodland spirit’s countenance had brightened.

  “Fret not… So, what are you doing? You seemed joyous,” she inquired with genuine curiosity.

  “I am trying to do spells without verbal incantations,” Tao confessed, deciding there was no point in concealing his endeavors.

  “Spells? Are you speaking of everyday magic?” Eleya tilted her head in puzzled inquiry.

  “Yes.”

  “Hmm…” She stepped toward the patch of frozen water on the floor and, with her bare feet, lightly touched its surface.

  “You have succeeded in altering the nature of the element,” she observed thoughtfully.

  “Well, yes…” Tao replied, attempting to keep his tone as he would ordinarily use. He longed to discover whether Eleya was impressed.

  “I trust this has not interfered with other things you must do?” she asked, lifting her head to scrutinize his face.

  “No,” he said with a dismissive shake of his head, though the diminutive being still appeared unconvinced.

  “Really? When we are together, I teach you how to sense the spirit power, but when you are alone, you engage in this… Do you have enough time to continue cultivating your power?” Eleya’s eyes flashed with skepticism.

  Tao exhaled deeply—it did not seem that the forest spirit was particularly interested in his achievements.

  “Yes, it's fine. I have only recently begun trying to… this new way of creating ice. And I do not practice it all night.” There was a hint of annoyance in the boy's voice.

  For a moment, Eleya observed him intently. Her yellow eyes shone ever more brilliantly—though not merely because of the moon’s glow—and Tao strove not to appear guilty. In truth, he had allowed himself a small indulgence, savoring the new possibilities unveiled by the spell’s invocation. It was very boring to concentrate solely on drawing in his spirit power and diffusing it into the tissues of his flesh, again and again, now that he had finally managed to grasp that long-sought goal. Tao also sensed that it was becoming increasingly difficult to expand the reservoir of spirit power for enchanting his muscles or widening his meridians—indeed, he seemed near the natural limit of what his cells could withstand. Although he endeavored to enhance both the physical endurance and magical tolerance of his muscle fibers, these processes could not absorb the vast quantities of his spirit power over the course of one night.

  Yet Tao knew that in Eleya’s eyes, all of this might not suffice as justification. Her only retort was simple—try even harder.

  Just as in his past life…

  The boy pushed the gloom back into the depths of his consciousness and concentrated on the present.

  Tao was quite sure that Eleya could not read his mind or sense his emotions unless she were to touch directly upon his consciousness. The very barrier he maintained to conceal the magnitude of his spirit power also kept others’ energies at bay—a safeguard upon which he resolutely relied. Even though he usually strove to avoid harboring thoughts that might displease the forest spirit, he still wished to keep a small corner of his inner musings private.

  “Fine… do as you wish.” It looked like Eleya gave up on getting more out of Tao, much to his relief.

  The tiny creature was usually cheerful and frivolous, which often annoyed Tao. It was still much better than when the forest spirit became stern and serious. Usually, it was because Tao had done something wrong.

  He hated those moments.

  “By the way, why are you here now? Has something happened?” the boy inquired, opting to change the subject.

  “Your father and his dog have been at home for the fourth night in a row. We can no longer practice together.”

  Eleya no longer was watching his face; instead, she again pressed her feet against the solid patch of ice upon the floor. For a moment, Tao strained his hearing to ensure that his family was still asleep.

  “Yes—father has decided, for some time at least, to forego the hunting,” he replied without further elaboration.

  The selesti Neter had received news—also told to Tao's parents—that a new expedition to locate and vanquish the evil force lurking in the forest was to begin within the coming weeks. Though these were good tidings, Indres had cautioned his wife and others—especially hunters and gatekeepers—to remain vigilant, for the enemy might choose to make the first move.

  Perhaps concentrating solely on mastering everyday magic was indeed unwise. Tao, however, understood that he would not be able to master the skill of scanning the spirit power over the coming days. To be able to wield magic without the constraints of incantatory words would serve him well—if, one day, he was granted the opportunity to put this knowledge to practical use.

  “I see…” Eleya mused thoughtfully before adding, “In a few days, will there not be a festivity?”

  “A festivity?”

  “Yes—when you climb the hill at night to watch the luminous insects as they mate and then travel away from the forest to lay their eggs.”

  Why describe it in such a manner… Tao made a face.

  “Indeed, they are called The Dancing Stars,” he replied with a nod and a gentle smile.

  Safia, as it were, still referred to the spectacle as the Night Lights.

  “I do not know if it is truly a festival, but it seems to occur around this time… Although I have heard from the elders that the exact day is only revealed a day in advance.”

  “Well, I will learn of it earlier. After all, I am the forest spirit,” Eleya declared proudly.

  “I see…” The boy waited for the follow-up to understand what the tiny being wanted.

  “When it happens, I wish for you to take me along,” she said.

  I might have foreseen this… Tao felt his shoulders sag.

  “Last year, you showed no interest…”

  “Last year, I had no body.”

  “It will be beyond the village’s walls, and when it’s dark—you may sit anywhere and watch unnoticed,” the boy replied in a measured tone.

  “Do you not like my presence?” Eleya did not hesitate to express her mild vexation.

  “No, I don't like to go around with a stupid... doll for little kids.” Tao strove to restrain his tone.

  "You're a little kid, aren't you?" the tiny creature cocked its head to the side, as if puzzled.

  “Not so small… at least not in mind.” He exhaled, feeling that he would soon be forced, as usual, to yield.

  “So, why do you wish to go now?”

  "To see what's so interesting," Eleya replied with a contented smile.

  A harsh PE teacher and a frivolous teenage girl — the tiny creature was able to switch between these two modes quickly and naturally.

  ***

  Just as Eleya had foreseen, after a few days, one evening, watchmen and hunters spotted the first glimmers above the forest—an omen that the Dancing Stars would migrate from the forest on the coming night. As before, most of the villagers eagerly made their way to the higher ground north of the village to observe them.

  The Tao family was no exception, though Indres appeared considerably more restless than usual. The boy got the impression that his father would have rather stayed home this time, despite having spent the entire day scouting the hillside. Still, Safia’s enthusiasm was hard to ignore. Sofra even remarked that it would be safer to be with everyone rather than isolated in the empty village. Indres grumbled, yet he still took his war bow and Sigi along.

  “Is that really necessary? It might disturb the others,” Sofra worried.

  “I hope it won’t be necessary,” he replied grimly.

  At dusk, as night fell, hundreds of people departed from the village toward the northern hills. For most, it was a long-time tradition, but families who had only settled here during the past year had not yet witnessed the Dancing Stars, so they appeared visibly excited. Inya, too, glanced about with interest—whether prompted by her older sister’s cry of “Night lights!” or by Sigi’s occasional lively bark.

  Other village children were equally jubilant, running in groups, while the adults advanced slowly toward the hills. Safia wished to join one such group that included her friends.

  “No, stay with us,” Indres ordered the girl firmly.

  Safia pouted but obeyed her father’s tone and instead played with Sigi.

  Tao sensed that his father’s grim face was causing a ripple of tension throughout the family. Although the boy understood his father’s caution, he did not see any reason for excessive nerves. Tao figured that the enemy would most likely do nothing tonight.

  Most likely.

  The boy tightened his grip around a rag doll pressed against his chest. Even though Eleya’s small frame was delicate and light, Tao could always detect her presence within the doll. Fortunately, for now, she did not demand anything unusual of him.

  When Tao’s family began their ascent up the hill, they encountered Reyte and her sister Alenora, who were accompanied by their children, Yangita and Tamas. Safia eagerly hurried over to them, unable to hide her excitement. Tao smiled at his sister’s enthusiasm, knowing that the two girls had played together only a few hours earlier.

  “Isn’t climbing the hill too hard for you?” Sofra inquired of Alenora after their greetings. Her voice carried a note of gentle concern.

  “Don’t worry—I’m as healthy as a horse. We’re both fine,” Alenora replied with a smile, patting her belly.

  Visually, it might not have been apparent, but Tao had heard that Yangita and Tamas’ mother had been expecting for several months already. That would be her sixth child—a number not uncommon for the women in the village. Sometimes, Tao felt that having just two sisters was already too much, especially since Safia alone made a noise for three children. He could scarcely imagine what life would be like with three or even more little brothers and sisters.

  “Isn’t Bruni coming?” Indres asked about Alenora’s husband.

  “No, he’s tending the cattle so that the boys can enjoy the evening here,” Alenora explained, gesturing toward a group of teenagers farther up the hill.

  While Sofra would have preferred to stay there, Indres was determined to climb higher to be closer to the other guards and to secure a better view of the surroundings. After a brief conversation, the Tao family resumed their upward climb.

  As his eyes adjusted, Tao could discern several armed guards and hunters among the cliffs above. The boy couldn’t recall whether this had been the case the previous year or if the village men had since tightened security measures. In any event, the villagers were in high spirits. Friends and acquaintances greeted each other joyfully—including Indres’s family. No one found it surprising that he carried his war bow and his hunting dog, thinking he had guard duties too.

  When the climb became strenuous, Indres hoisted Inya onto his arms, though sooner than later, even Safia began breathing heavily and could no longer keep pace with Indres and Tao.

  “Perhaps that’s enough? I believe we’ve climbed high enough,” Tao heard his mother say from behind. She, too, looked weary.

  “Very well,” Indres consented, setting Inya down on a level stone nearby. Sofra, clearly tired, sat down beside the youngest daughter.

  “Did you make the children climb just as high last year?” she asked, a little fussy.

  “I took care so they wouldn’t overexert themselves—don’t worry. Besides, they’re strong,” Indres replied, placing his hand on the shoulders of Tao and Safia.

  Tao felt fine—even though he had hardly used spirit power to help himself—and smiled confidently at his mother. Safia, though breathing heavier than usual, was still brimming with energy. Instead of sitting on the stone, she attempted to clamber onto Sigi, who was sitting near Indres’s feet. The dog wasn’t pleased and moved away from the girl.

  “For an herbalist, your endurance seems rather weak,” Indres said, partly thoughtfully, partly teasingly.

  “I’m, after all, more an apothecary,” Sofra retorted with a roll of her eyes and stretched her legs with relish.

  As night settled in and the stars shone ever brighter, the two moons of this night—nearly full and close to one another—became distinct in the sky. Comparing the two celestial orbs, one could see that the pale yellow moon, called Briune, was a little larger than the other, the blue Golme.

  “Why is one blue and the other yellow?” Safia had long ago asked her mother.

  Sofra then recounted an ancient myth about sisters fashioned by the Eternal Father in times long past—one dressed in a gown of gold and silver, the other in sapphire blue. Both had fled from the monsters of the Abyss and ascended to the heavens to search for their third, lost sister—a quest that continues even today. It was a sorrowful tale, unlike most in the fairy tale books.

  Tao figured that the yellow moon might be akin to Earth’s own satellite—but what of the blue one? The boy had tried to observe the moon with enhanced vision, though it proved rather ineffective. Still, he got the impression that movement was discernible on Golme’s surface—a suggestion of an atmosphere. Whether that was merely gas or even water was unclear, but it would be fascinating if this planet boasted a habitable moon.

  Tao had wished to ask Eleya about it, but with people nearby, it was too difficult to speak up. Moreover, when they were alone, all his attention usually had to be devoted to training, leaving the boy with many unanswered questions about this world.

  His thoughts were interrupted by hurried footsteps from above. Turning his head, Tao saw Arwain descending the slopes of the hill in broad strides. The young man had a large, thick bow slung over his shoulder—remarkably like the one that belonged to Tao’s father.

  “Good evening, teacher, Sofra. Everything is calm nearby,” Arwain greeted both adults and hurried to report to Indres.

  Tao noticed that his mother nodded politely with a smile, yet she sat more upright and stiffly than usual and pulled her skirt more over her legs. Undoubtedly, her mind still echoed with the strange words the young hunter had spoken during the tournament.

  Indres, on the other hand, smiled upon hearing Arwain’s greeting. “Be at ease. And remember—I am no longer your teacher.”

  “Oh, that’s true…” Arwain was slightly embarrassed.

  Although he did not win the tournament, Arwain’s impressive performance had earned him the title of a full-fledged hunter and marked the official completion of his training under Indres. The war bow over the young hunter’s shoulder was a gift from his grandfather, his father, and also his former mentor.

  Tao felt he did not lose anything; Indres rarely taught his craft at home, and the skills of a hunter were of little use for the boy’s own aims. He had also heard that next year his father might take on one of Arwain’s cousins as an apprentice.

  “Don’t worry about that,” Indres said, patting the young man on the shoulder. “You say everything is calm? Is there nothing suspicious?”

  Arwain then began recounting in detail his observations of the surroundings, mentioning the flight of birds amid the northern mountains—a sign that might indicate the presence of a predator.

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  For a moment, Tao listened to their conversation, but when nothing particularly interesting was revealed, he turned his gaze to the distant forest and to the people lower on the hillside. The villagers continued coming from the village toward the hill—though in smaller numbers than before, as most had already arrived and were now seated in small clusters, gazing toward the forest.

  Among the latest arrivals, Tao noticed five smaller figures—a group of deorg masons who typically did not take much part in the village’s social life. The boy watched them with interest until he realized they were coming straight towards his family. The adults soon noticed as well and quieted their chatter.

  The deorg group halted not far from Indres’s party and arranged themselves to observe the forthcoming event. Two of them moved closer; both bowed their heads, and the elder among them spoke. Tao recalled that he had been the one who made the gravestone for Teru.

  “Good evening. I hope you won’t mind if we join you?”

  “Greetings, Master Gareth. Crafter Darekh,” Indres responded respectfully. “Not at all.”

  Sofra rose to greet the deorgs and then prompted Safia to do likewise. Tao deduced that his older sister had reached an age when adults began teaching her proper manners. Safia showed no shyness in addressing strangers; in her confident voice, she said “Greetings” and continued watching both deorgs with curiosity afterward. Tao, who seldom had the opportunity to see a deorgs up close, observed them too—though not as openly as his sister.

  The boy got the impression that the skin texture of the elder deorg was somewhat unlike that of humans. Around its eyes, fine wrinkles formed in crinkled lines, reminiscent of fissures in a cliff or stone. When Gareth’s face did not move, in the moonlight, one could almost imagine it was made from a flesh-toned stone.

  The other Deorg, Darekh, was Gareth’s youngest son. That was all Tao knew about him—and nothing more. Darekh appeared not only more youthful but also more human if one disregarded his height. Only upon a closer look at the peculiar features of his face could one discern certain traits that did not seem ordinary for humans.

  “From what I understand, we need do nothing but wait and watch for the lights to appear above the forest?” Gareth continued the conversation with his question.

  “Yes,” Indres nodded.

  Perhaps sensing that her husband’s manner of communication was lacking—and noting that Arwain had fallen silent after the greeting—Sofra joined in.

  “This isn’t an event steeped in deep traditions, Master Gareth. Many simply enjoy watching the Dancing Lights, especially the children,” Sofra remarked as she glanced at Safia.

  “I see,” the elder deorg said thoughtfully, surveying the mingling groups of people all around.

  “But it is heartening to see that you and your people have chosen to take part as well,” Sofra continued.

  “Well, showing respect to our hosts is also honoring their traditions,” Gareth replied with a smile.

  Tao noticed that even at the corners of the deorg’s mouth appeared various lines of cracked lines.

  “Does that mean you’ve decided to join the village?”

  Gareth smiled again.

  “That is still up for discussion,” he answered enigmatically, glancing toward Indres.

  For a moment, Tao got the impression that the deorg was hinting at something, yet Indres said nothing—only seeming pensive.

  The deorg no longer strove to continue the conversation, and silence fell. While human adults and the deorgs turned their gaze toward the forest, awaiting the appearance of the lights, Safia decided to leave her mother’s side and step closer to the two deorgs.

  After scrutinizing the Deorg intently for a moment, Safia inquired, “Why are you still so little? Don’t you eat coins?”

  “Safi!” her mother cried out in alarm, turning toward her daughter. “What are you saying?”

  Indres, Arwain, and the deorgs turned to the girl in surprise.

  “They receive so many silver coins. Why don’t they eat them and grow into giants?” Safia asked, confused about her mother’s distress.

  “Oh, you…” Sofra was at a loss for words. Leaving the youngest one seated on the stone (fortunately, Sigi was nearby, watching over her), she went over and took Safia’s hand, drawing her close.

  “I deeply apologize! My daughter has heard the old fairy tales about deorgs. Please do not take offense—she is but a little child.” Sofra bowed deeply to both deorgs.

  Gareth burst into loud laughter, drawing the attention not only of the other three deorgs near but also of other clusters of people around. Tao, however, noticed that the youngest deorg did not seem particularly pleased.

  “No, do not worry about that,” Gareth tried to reassure Sofra. “After all, we ourselves tell these stories to our children.”

  He regarded Safia kindly and said, “Dear girl, just as your stomach cannot digest silver, gold, or other metals, so do mine. Alas, I cannot grow into a giant.”

  “Giants aren’t real?” Safia asked, her voice tinged with disappointment.

  Gareth smiled sadly. “Perhaps they were once real… and maybe, in other Realms, giants still live. Not here, unfortunately.”

  Safia did not seem quite convinced, but Sofra was no longer inclined to let her ask further questions; she drew the girl away from the deorg.

  “Some say that up in the north not so far, in Dornara, there are giants who slumber beneath the mountains,” Indres remarked.

  Tao got the impression that he had decided to join the discussion—either to ease his wife’s awkward situation or perhaps simply to cheer up his daughter. Sofra rested her hands on Safia’s shoulders, ensuring that her eldest would not trouble others further.

  Gareth smiled once again.

  “Such tales are told of many mountains where the deorgs live—or lived for long time—especially among those who still going our Old Path. How true they are, I cannot say. Alas, my eyes have seen no giants anywhere in the Human Realm.”

  “But those who have journeyed to the Mountain Realm far to the north claim they have seen giants,” Gareth’s son spoke up.

  Thus far, Darekh had remained silent, though Tao observed that the youngest Deorg was following the conversation keenly.

  Gareth regarded his son with a furrowed expression. “Perhaps. But the roads to those lands are long and perilous. Moreover, travelers may… exaggerate,” the elder Deorg cautioned softly.

  “They rule their own Realm and follow their own Path. That is why the Jotuns dwell among them, and their stomachs remain strong,” Darekh said fervently.

  It did not seem that Gareth enjoyed that line of thinking.

  “I do not know about that. Nor do I know where the tales end and the truth about those distant lands begins. And is it even worth exploring? We now tread the Eternal Path—not following the footprints of our ancestors,” he seemed to instruct his son hardly.

  “Yes, father,” Darekh replied reluctantly with a nod.

  “Does the deorgs believe that their Path can make them become the giants?” Arwain inquired, his tone a blend of curiosity and doubt.

  Gareth did not appear eager to continue this topic, yet he strove to reply kindly to the young hunter.

  “Indeed, that is what is said. The Earth’s Path, as it might be called in your language, is about being one with the Fundamental Foundations, with the Deep Earth and the mountain rock. The Jotun, or giants, are our ancestors. By consuming minerals and metals, our forefathers attained long lives during which they grew ever larger until they themselves became Jotun. They forged mountains and valleys and finally became one with the Earth, forming the very basis for new mountains. Such are the ancient tales.”

  “Do many still believe in this?” Arwain asked, looking not only at the two deorgs beside him but also at three others a little way off.

  “It’s hard to say. My clan has followed the Eternal Path for generations—since the Third Rebirth—just as other clans from Ordus of the Central Spinal Ridge have. The Honorable Indres can attest to it; his homeland lies not far from the Northern Ordus.”

  Gareth looked at Indres, who merely nodded in response.

  “But most deorgs are still mountain-dwellers, and mining in earth.”

  Although Arwain’s tone was not reproachful, his words caused Darekh to clench his hands tightly.

  “Many human work in the mines too, yet their loyalty is never questioned…” he said harsly.

  “Peace, son,” Gareth called out to the youngest deorg before he could say any more.

  Though he tried to be calm and gentle, Tao sensed a tension in the elder deorg’s voice. Indres, too, cast a cautionary glance at Arwain.

  Sofra released the girl and stepped forward. “The Eternal Path is for all creatures under the sun. It is no wonder, then, that not only humans tread it,” she said with a kindly smile to both the deorgs and Arwain.

  “Yes, of course,” the young man blushed a little and lowered his gaze.

  “Please, climb higher and continue watching north—if, indeed, there is anything dangerous there,” Indres said, placing his hand on the young hunter’s shoulder.

  Arwain nodded and, taking his leave, began his ascent up the hill.

  “Pardon him; he is still young,” Sofra whispered to the deorgs after a moment.

  “Do not worry about it,” Gareth expressed his resignation.

  Indres merely shook his head as he watched his former apprentice walk away.

  Tao had never heard words in the Ilari tongue that literally meant “worship” or “religion.” They used the word “Path,” which at first was hard to grasp. Everyone in the village followed the Eternal Path, so conversations about such things were not often.

  Although the tension lessened after Arwain’s departure, an awkward mood lingered for a while. It seemed that both deorgs were reluctant to return to their companions. Fortunately, soon, the first lights began to appear above the treetops to the south.

  “It begins! Night Lights!” Safia cried out joyfully as she leapt up. She seemed to have forgotten her questions about giants and pleaded with her father to lift her onto his shoulders—which he did.

  Tao felt a stirring in his hands. The adults’ conversation with the deorgs had, for a brief moment, allowed him to forget Eleya, which he held close. He raised the doll higher so that she might see better. From afar, it might have looked as though the son were imitating his father, yet Tao still felt rather foolish.

  Meanwhile, the delicate lights over the forest multiplied. One could see that they gathered from vast expanses. Just as in the past year, the smaller lights orbited around the larger ones, seeking similar hues. At first, their motion seemed chaotic, yet Tao perceived a certain rhythm—somewhat reminiscent of a dance. All the hues of the rainbow gleamed, merged, and shifted above the treetops, captivating every onlooker.

  “Woah!” Inya exclaimed in amazement.

  She watched the natural spectacle with her mouth agape—and Tao understood. Though it was his second time witnessing it, the boy relished the phenomenon. The Dancing Stars shone brighter and more colorfully than fireflies on Earth. They moved more fluidly and in more complex patterns than drones performing in a light show back in Tao's past life.

  “So many… tens of thousands… perhaps even more lunbeetles,” Gareth mused thoughtfully as he stood beside Indres.

  Tao brought the doll’s head closer to his mouth. “Do you see?” he whispered.

  Eleya stirred inside the doll at the answer but didn't speak with voice, so the boy had no idea what she thought of the sight. In any case, the forest spirit herself was insisting on witnessing the Dancing Stars, so she could not fault Tao if she found it boring.

  At one point, almost simultaneously, the cloud of lights split into smaller groups, with the larger ones leading the smaller like comets with tails, and began to scatter in all directions. Tao observed that most of them headed toward the mountains, and soon, many soared over the heads of the onlookers. He saw Safia reach up her hand, as though yearning to capture one of the ‘Night Lights.’

  “Daddy! Please, catch one!” she pleaded eagerly.

  “They’re too high up in the sky, child…”

  Tao figured that Indres could shoot one of the lights with an arrow, but that would only kill the luminous bug. Instead, it occurred to him that a kite equipped with an insect-catching net might be successful. He had never seen local children playing with anything of the sort, however.

  Soon enough, the last of the Dancing Stars had flown overhead and continued their course up the hill. The onlookers watched them for a while longer, now with their faces turned to the north.

  “Do you know where they’re headed?” Gareth asked Indres quietly.

  “No,” Tao heard his father reply shortly, as usual.

  "Mushrooms are grown to attract these insects in the mountains. Because when their larvae eat these mushrooms, they secrete a special liquid which then hardens and becomes a special stone." Gareth turned his head away to look at Indre and added quietly. "This stone is lument."

  Tao noticed that the deorg’s last words prompted Indres to look toward Gareth. Yet, seated on a large stone alongside his mother and Inya, the boy could not discern his father’s expression.

  “Isn’t it quarried from the rock?” Indres asked.

  “Sometimes, natural deposits from time immemorial can be found in the layers of rock—or in the caverns where Lunbeetles naturally congregate. But mostly, my kinsmen cultivate them deliberately.”

  “I see…” came the subdued reply.

  “I meant to ask for a moment of your time,” Gareth murmured, speaking even more quietly.

  Indres hesitated briefly before setting Safia down and asking his wife to wait with the children for a moment. Tao did not know how much his mother had caught of what was said by the deorg, yet she sensed that it was something important and agreed without complaint.

  Indres, together with Gareth and Darekh, ascended a little higher on the mountain—far enough that Tao could no longer hear their hushed voices, at least not in the usual manner. Spying on his parents and other adults was second nature to the boy now, and he never missed an opportunity to catch something that seemed interesting.

  “Does the honored Indres know about the old mines in the mountains?” Tao’s enchanted hearing made every word of the deorg’s speech clear.

  “I do know. But they’re exhausted,” came the reply.

  “That’s what I’ve heard, but wouldn’t it be worth checking? They’ve been abandoned since the Great War. In times past, they yielded iron, copper—even silver. They could become a boon for the village and the entire valley.”

  “When the Empire reclaimed these lands, the Strateg sent the inspection to the mines. They were empty, discounting the nests of monsters. The nobles would not grant us this territory if something valuable lay within.” Indres was dismissive.

  “Perhaps they were hasty. Yet I’ve heard that the mines formed an impressive deep cavern… My people would relish living there. Perhaps we could find something of worth there.”

  “You want to live there? In the mountains?” Tao detected surprise in his father’s tone.

  “I have already discussed it with my clan’s brethren in the Central Spine and beyond. I could gather several dozen volunteers to begin with—and in time, even more.”

  “Mountain trails are dangerous. We seldom hunt there; hence, monsters and predatory beasts are more abundant. Besides, the monsters may have returned the mines as well.”

  “That is why we intend to enlist you and your comrades for security and monster extermination—to establish a safe route from the village to the mines.”

  Indres shook his head.

  “Even if you pay, I see no wisdom in this venture. The village will lose its masons, and the mines will likely not live up to your hopes. Mountain monsters are fiercer and more resilient; it is a risk that will not pay off for either side.”

  “Well, even if the mines are indeed empty, they might still prove profitable…” Gareth said in a subdued tone. He glanced around before continuing in an even quieter voice—Tao had to concentrate with all his might to catch every word. “I know how to cultivate the mushrooms that Lunbeetles eat.”

  Indres fell silent for a moment before speaking again, “So that is why… You want to produce lument in the mines.” His tone conveyed understanding.

  “Exactly. My brothers and I have tried many times, but these beetles do not like the forests down south—it is, it seems, too hot or humid. Only in northern lands, like Dornara, do the deorgs prevail in obtaining lument. If we succeed, then… I trust I need not explain just how profitable it can be.”

  “But why speak to me about it? Do you want me to present this before the village elders?”

  Gareth chuckled a little. “Not exactly— your support when I ask the elders to grant us the mines as property would be nice. But we will need you and those hunters and guards you trust to eradicate the monsters lurking in the mines and to secure the path from there to the village. Of course, we’ll pay for it, but the true reward will come when we begin producing lument.”

  “That sounds… well-thought-out,” Indres mused.

  Noticing a shift in Indres’s tone, Gareth became more animated. “One-fifth of the income for the first two years will be yours and that of your men—perhaps longer if additional protection is required. When the Empire granted you tax exemption, it applied to all taxes, even on mining yields and the trade of magical products. Just imagine how much we all stand to gain as long as the privilege remain in effect.”

  “That sounds good… I suppose it will not be difficult for you to persuade the elders,” Indres replied calmly now, his earlier dismissiveness gone.

  “Yes, on that note…I don’t plan to mention the mushroom cultivation to them, only my intent to search for the metals once yielded by the mines of old. It would be wise, too, for you and your men not to mention this prematurely…”

  Indres seemed to tense. “When it eventually comes to light, the elders won’t be pleased—not just them, but the entire village too,” he said tersely.

  “And so we must cede a portion of the revenue to them? For nothing?” Darekh suddenly interjected in a note of dissatisfaction.

  The elder Deorg chided him before turning again to Indres.

  “I understand that you are used to doing many things collectively… But I fear that if it becomes widely known just how profitable these mines might be, we’ll have a harder time securing full rights to them. The village would benefit greatly from the deorgs’s colony nearby through trade alone. We could placate them by selling crystals at reduced prices or by other means of compensation. But I want to be sure that my people will have homes of their own—places where they can live safely, undisturbed, and with full rights.”

  Indres fell silent for a moment, lost in thought. “Is it because you feel insecure here?” he asked.

  “Hmm. Perhaps, as a Deorg, I find caves more to my liking,” Gareth replied in a slightly teasing tone.

  “If that is because Arwain or others sometimes say something odd…”

  “We need not live among humans if we do not wish to.” The youngest Deorg spoke again, his tone now sharper—and louder, enough to catch Safia’s attention.

  “What are they talking about?” the girl asked her mother, pouting a little.

  Tao, luckily, managed to normalize his hearing to avoid the unpleasant clamor in his ears. “Patience, child,” Sofra instructed gently.

  Most of the people on the hillside had already begun their return to the village, yet Tao’s family and the group of the deorgs still sat in place. It was no wonder Safia felt impatient, though such moods were not uncommon for her at other times as well.

  Straining to ignore his mother’s and sister’s voices, Tao again focused on his father’s conversation with the Deorg. He managed to enchant his hearing almost immediately when Gareth resumed speaking.

  “…here things are not bad overall, believe me. You pay well and fairly. But at present, you are enjoying a time of abundance and peace.” The elder deorg’s voice was calm though tinged with a hint of sorrow. “But when war, plagues, famine, or monster outbreaks occur, people start looking for traitors, well poisoners, and curse callers in their midst. Those who are different are the first to suffer.”

  Indres offered no reply, so Gareth continued, “I have more than 150 winters behind me, honored Indres. I experienced it when the old Empire crumbled and the Great War began. Perhaps it is no longer embedded in man’s memory, but before the war, Deorgs lived in far greater numbers in human cities. I am grateful to the Eternal One that the settlements deep in the mountains—like those in the Central Spine where I grew up—escaped this doom. Just as your people, I believe this land has a future. But I cannot foretell what will happen in ten, twenty, or more years. We are ready to be part of that future—but in our own strong house, where we feel safe.”

  “I understand,” Indres nodded. “I will consider it.”

  Suddenly, the little doll in Tao’s hands trembled.

  “Something is approaching. Be ready.” Tao's enhanced hearing enabled him to hear Eleya's whisper loudly. His heart beat faster, and his eyes darted around.

  "What's the matter?" The boy shouted, casting aside worries that his mother would hear.

  “From the west… in the skies…” came the reply.

  “Tao, did you say something?” Sofra turned to her son.

  He offered no answer but began to scan the night sky toward the west with growing anxiety, trying to discern what had unsettled the tiny being in his. The thought of the huge, black bat with the blazing red eyes flashed through Tao's mind...

  Before the boy could register anything amiss, a shrill whistle sounded from the west. Indres immediately tensed and removed his war bow from his shoulder. “Guards have spotted something! Sofra, guard the children! Sigi! Here!” his voice rang out firm and sharp.

  Sofra froze for a moment, then swiftly grabbed her eldest daughter’s and her son’s hand, drawing them close and lowering them toward the stone. Sereni dog who had until now been lying quietly, leapt to her feet and ran to Indres.

  Like most of the adults in the village, the deorgs had daggers on their belts, but they seemed confused by Indre's words and stayed on the spot for a while.

  “Hide among the cliffs! Do not stand around!” Indres commanded.

  He also tried to merge with the surroundings, yet he nocked an arrow in his bow and gazed gloomily toward the west.

  It is night; perhaps we shall be hard to spot… Tao tried to summon hope.

  Once again, a memory arose—a monster that had once managed to find his family in the darkness of a cellar…

  The guards’ whistle spurred many other villagers to tense and or take cover amid the stones. Others, closer to the village, began hastening toward the gate. Guards from the north and east rushed toward the west. The deorgs, at last, too managed to hide among the cliffs.”

  Tao concentrated his spirit power in his eyes, sharpening his vision to its fullest to detect impending danger in time. He felt a slight ache—his nerves strained under the burden of magical energy—yet he pressed on. For a brief moment, the night appeared brighter, and objects emerged with greater clarity. Tao noticed that a star in the western sky suddenly went dark for an instant before flaring back to life. It was not a misbehaving Dancing Star—something big was moving in the sky, something enormous. Silently, it glided and descended toward the hill where Tao’s family was trying to hide.

  The boy felt movement within the doll; something slipped from it out into the open and tumbled to the ground, quickly vanishing among the rocks.

  What are you doing?! Tao thought, silently addressing Eleya without daring to speak the words aloud. Her fingers squeezed the rag doll more tightly—now empty.

  Regda! Ugne qure! Regda! Ugne qure! the boy repeated words of fire spell to himself.

  As the creature drew nearer, the moonlight delineated its form before him. It looked unlike the black bat from Tao’s memory and soared soundlessly through the sky, devoid of any wing flapping.

  A bowstring snapped, and an arrow whistled through the air. Tao couldn’t tell who had fired it—his father was still at the ready. The creature roared in a deep, powerful tone, like a lion or other huge predator. A shiver ran down the boy's back. Something like a whimper escaped from Safiya's lips.

  “Quiet,” Sofra murmured, striving to calm her children as she drew them closer in her embrace.

  There was a thump higher up the hill as the creature landed just a few dozen steps higher. Its massive body moved in the moonlight.

  Suddenly, a beam of light from the east, like a flashlight, illuminated the creature. It looked like one of the guards or hunters was using a variant of light magic. The creature turned its head toward the light source and roared angrily.

  “It’s a drakh!” Tao heard a desperate cry from the side of the caster.

  At first, the creature resembled a gigantic bird, largely by virtue of its broad wings. Yet its body was lower and more elongated, and it was unclear whether it was cloaked in feathers or fur. Its head recalled more a raptor than a bird or beast—only far more fearsome. Before the light faded, Tao managed to glimpse sharp, menacing fangs within a massive mouth.

  Sofra crouched even lower, seeking further cover behind the rocks with her children. But Tao resisted, determined to keep the creature within his sight and see what would unfold. He remained standing upright despite his mother’s persistent efforts to pull him down. The boy noticed that Indres, a little further on, was also lowering himself, his hand resting protectively on Sigi’s side.

  The creature kept its head turned toward the direction from which that initial beam of light had emerged. Then, another source of light appeared before it—a yellowish-red glow reminiscent of one of the Dancing Stars. It lasted only for a heartbeat before that light suddenly flared brilliantly; at the very spot from which the previous beam had emanated, an explosion erupted, and flames burst forth as if struck by a missile.

  “Run!” someone shouted.

  Tao heard the faint twang of an arrow and even noticed it striking the creature—not to harm it, but only to irritate it, as it roared again with renewed fury. Near the explosion, within the burst of flames, a man’s silhouette could be seen frantically trying to distance himself from the creature. Yet the monster noticed as well; before its gaping maw, another yellowish light emerged. Another explosion engulfed the running man’s body.

  For a moment, silence descended. Neither the hunters nor the guards dared to challenge this entity they called the drakh.

  The monster then turned its head southward—to where Tao and his family were hidden. The boy’s heart pounded in his chest; he strove to remain utterly still, desperate not to attract the creature’s attention. He regretted that he had wanted to keep his head up. The drakh remained motionless for a time, its head fixed in this direction; although its eyes were hidden in darkness, Tao felt as though it was staring directly at him.

  Impossible, my barrier is active... the boy tried to encourage himself.

  The creature then turned its whole body toward the south and took a step forward with its winged pawn. Indres, deciding he could wait no longer, abandoned Sigi and his concealment. With determined, enchanted leaps, he moved westward—away from his family—and fired several heavy arrows in rapid succession with his war bow.

  Tao heard the bowstring snap, the supersonic flight of an arrow piercing the air. The monster's head jerked from the collision. Yet, it neither fell nor attempted to flee; instead, the creature roared mightily and swiftly pivoted toward Indres. Tao wasn’t sure if the beast could discern his father in the moonlight, but it made no difference. The drakh quickly generated a new ball of light before it, and in the next moment, another explosion burst forth. Indres remained unscathed, though his tall figure was now starkly visible in the glare of the flames. With a trembling heart, Tao watched his father striving to widen the gap between himself and the creature, releasing several more arrows in its direction. The beast roared and charged at Indres, its winged talons battering against the rocks.

  No!

  Tao broke free from his mother’s embrace and sprang onto a rock.

  “Tao!” he heard his mother's desperate cry.

  Without answering, he enchanted his legs and leaped toward his father and the monster. He landed badly, somersaulted, and hit the uneven ground. When Tao raised his head, he saw that the creature was now much closer to his father, and once again, an ominous light shone before its gaping maw.

  No!

  Lying on his belly, Tao reached out his hand, prepared to invoke magic.

  “Regda…” he whispered.

  A shrill, otherworldly scream or whistle sounded on the side of the hill, its source somewhere between Indre and the monster. Tao could not discern what it was, though it reminded him of something familiar.

  The creature paused; the light before its muzzle faded away. It roared again, more stubbornly than fiercely, then turned the other way, to the west, and, making a run, took wing.

  Tao lowered his hand and realized he was breathing heavily. He turned onto his back, groaning from the pain of where he had struck the rough stones, and strove to keep his gaze fixed on the creature as it soared eastward.

  “Tao! What are you doing?!” he heard his mother's voice and the sound of footsteps. Somewhere, Sigi barked amidst the shouts of others.

  “Sofra, it isn’t safe yet!” Indres warned, also when approaching.

  “Tao, he suddenly…” Sofra began to explain, but Indres cut in sharply: “No time! Take Tao and Safia and follow me! Sigi, keep quiet! Guard!” Indres was in no mood for discussion.

  He gathered Inya into his arms—thankfully, as a small mercy, she had not yet begun to cry—while Sofra helped Tao to stand, seizing the boy’s hand and that of his elder sister to pull them along. Ignoring his pain—aware that there was no time to lament over a few bruises—Tao trailed behind.

  Indres led his family not toward the village but further off to the west. In the dark of night, it was difficult not to stumble, yet Indres dared not activate his light magic.

  “Where are we headed?” Sofra asked nervously.

  “The village is too crowded. If the drakh decides to strike the people, it will turn its attention there,” he replied grimly.

  From the east came the sound of people shouting and cattle screaming. Apparently, the creature had not just gone away.

  Tao suddenly realized that his rag doll was missing, left near big stone. He also had no idea where the forest spirit had disappeared to.

  ***