ZYRANOR

Olivia's fingers moved gently through Elara's thick, dark hair, twisting it into intricate braids. The scent of rosewater lingered in the air, but the atmosphere in the room had grown heavy. As Olivia glanced into the mirror before them, she caught the reflection of Elara's face — pale, distant, and troubled.

"What disturbs you?" Olivia asked softly, her hands pausing.

Elara's gaze dropped. "He's missing… my brother."

Olivia blinked, surprised. "You have a brother?"

"I never spoke of him," Elara admitted. "I secretly sent someone from the palace to search for him, but… nothing. No word. I plan to leave tonight. I can't sit here, knowing he's out there."

"Tonight?" Olivia echoed in alarm.

Elara nodded. "Yes. I won't rest until I find him."

Olivia's voice was cautious. "You sent who?"

"A trusted palace guard," Elara said, her voice tinged with pain. "But I don't even know if he's still alive."

Silence filled the room. Then Olivia, without warning, dropped to her knees, placing both palms on the stone floor. A strange energy rippled through the air as her eyes turned pure white — glowing like the eyes of a sorceress.

Elara gasped and turned toward her. "Olivia…?"

"Hold my hands," Olivia said, her voice deeper now, almost otherworldly.

Without hesitation, Elara reached out, placing her hands into Olivia's.

Olivia's head tilted back, and she drew in a long breath as though drawing in something beyond the realm of sight. Her eyes shifted back to their natural brown, and she exhaled slowly, staring into Elara's face.

"What did you see?" Elara asked, her voice trembling.

"He's alive," Olivia whispered.

Relief flickered in Elara's eyes, her lips curling into the hint of a smile. "Where?"

Olivia's voice turned solemn. "Far across the mountains… in a land called Zyranor."

"Elara stood quickly. "Then we leave now!"

"No," Olivia said firmly, rising to her feet.

"Why not? You know where he is — lead us!"

"It's a three-day journey, and you've only just recovered. You're not ready."

"You don't understand," Elara's voice broke. "He's all I have left… my only blood."

"I understand," Olivia murmured, kneeling before her and placing a hand gently on Elara's knee. "When the time is right, we will go."

Elara stared into Olivia's eyes. Doubt shimmered there — she was not yet convinced.

"Did you… know about him?" Olivia asked quietly.

Before Elara could answer, the door creaked open. Duke entered, his eyes curious. "Know about who?"

Elara slowly turned toward him, her voice steady. "Finn."

---

In the land of Zyranor, nestled between jagged peaks and vast meadows, a small cottage stood on the edge of a mist-laced forest. From within, a young boy dashed out, barefoot and laughing.

"Mom!" he called out.

A warm voice answered from within. "Yes, baby?"

"I'm not a baby," he replied with mock indignation, a grin tugging at his lips.

The woman stepped out onto the porch, a smile on her face. "Alright, alright, I won't call you that again. But you'll always be my baby."

He ran up to her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Yes," he said softly.

"What is it?" she asked, stroking his hair.

"I can't find my cloak," he said, peering up at her with wide eyes.

She pointed to the large tree nearby. "It's up there."

He turned toward it, frowning. "That's too high."

"Someday soon, after your training, it won't be," she replied. "But for now, you'll have to bring it down yourself."

"How?" he asked, eyes uncertain.

She bent down and looked him in the eye. "Have you forgotten what I taught you?"

"No…" he said, hesitantly.

"Then show me. Who are you, Quinn?"

"I am Quinn," he answered, straighter now.

"Then prove it."

Quinn stared at the cloak fluttering high among the branches. His eyes narrowed, filled with determination. The wind began to stir. His lips moved, whispering ancient words passed down in secret.

Behind him, the woman came close, her hand resting on his shoulder. She whispered into his ear, "It is now in you."

The wind rose into a swirling gust. The trees bent with its force, the sky darkened. Quinn's knees buckled.

Before he could fall, she caught him in her arms.

"You're getting stronger," she said, lifting him gently and carrying him back into the house.

---

The sun hung high over Zyranor, spilling golden light across the wildflower-dappled fields and the quiet garden behind the cottage. Birds chirped in the trees, and the wind whispered through tall grass, carrying with it the scent of pine and earth.

Quinn returned from the garden with dirt-streaked hands and a thoughtful frown. He sat cross-legged on the wooden porch, watching his mother sort herbs on a wide tray. For a long moment, he was silent. Then, in a quiet voice, he asked:

"Mom… why are we here alone?"

She paused, her hands stilling over a sprig of thyme. "Why do you ask, Quinn?"

He picked at a piece of grass, eyes lowered. "Yesterday, I went farther than usual. I found signs—paths, smoke… I think people live out there, far away. Together."

Her face tightened, eyes sharp. "You left without telling me?"

He nodded, ashamed. "I'm sorry, Mom."

She stood slowly, brushing off her apron, then sat beside him, her expression unreadable. "That was dangerous. You must never go beyond this forest without me. Do you understand?"

"I do," he said quietly, his head bowed.

She sighed, softer now. "You've asked many times before. Maybe it's time I told you the truth."