"Hey, you okay? We're almost there." A young woman's voice, laced with concern, pulled him from the depths of sleep.

  Zeldris's eyes fluttered open. He sat up abruptly, his body slick with sweat, a single tear tracing a path down his cheek. He blinked, disoriented, taking in his surroundings: the cramped interior of a swaying wagon, the rough wooden planks, the unfamiliar faces. Gradually, the remnants of the nightmare faded, replaced by the harsh reality of the present. He lifted a trembling hand to wipe away the tear, his gaze distant. "Five years," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly whisper. "It's been five years since then. Time moves strangely when there's nothing left to live for."

  The young woman shifted closer, her brow furrowed with worry. "I'm sorry, did I wake you? I didn't mean to. We're nearing our destination, and I heard you… you were mumbling in your sleep and I saw that you were crying."

  Zeldris didn't respond. He turned away, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery – a dense, verdant forest, dotted with small villages nestled amongst the ancient trees.

  A gruff-looking man with a thick beard, his hand resting on the pommel of a sheathed sword, addressed the young woman. "Leave him be. He's not one for words. Not since Lisia's Avarice razed his town."

  Yula's eyes widened, her gaze shifting between Zeldris and the gruff man. "Lisia's Avarice? You mean the…"

  The gruff man silenced her with a gesture. "It's not respectful to speak of that tragedy in front of those who suffered most from it."

  Yula recoiled slightly, a look of remorse on her face. "You're right. I apologize." She settled back, but her concerned gaze remained fixed on Zeldris.

  "Halt the wagons! We're here!" A shout echoed from the front of the convoy.

  A soldier approached their wagon, his expression dismissive. "You three, scout ahead. The rest of us will make camp here. Put those adventuring skills to good use and make sure the forest is clear. And try not to get yourselves killed." He smirked and turned to leave.

  "Tsk. That fool's practically begging for us to become monster chow," Yula muttered under her breath. "I hate these escort missions."

  "Enough complaining, little lady," the gruff man said, his voice firm but not unkind. "We're adventurers. We take jobs that pay well. Now, come on. We need to move before they decide to unleash the aether hounds. We don't want to deal with that."

  "Hmph! I told you, I'm not a 'little lady'! My name is Yula Hvelgar. Just because I'm an elf doesn't give you the right to patronize me, you... you oaf!"

  The gruff man chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound. "Hahaha! Well then, Yula Hvelgar, it is. I'm Orsten. A pleasure, I assure you."

  Yula turned to Zeldris, a silent plea in her eyes, hoping he would finally speak and introduce himself. Zeldris, however, seemed oblivious to the exchange. He brushed dust from his worn trousers, his movements deliberate and economical. Then, with a fluid motion, he stood, retrieved his blade from where it rested, and sheathed it on his back. Without a word, he jumped down from the wagon and began walking towards the dense treeline.

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  Orsten watched him go, then sighed. "Looks like he prefers action to words. Come on, little la- er, Yula. Let's not fall behind."

  "Hmph! I told you, I'm not a little lady!" Yula huffed, but a hint of a smile played on her lips as she hurried to catch up with Zeldris, falling into step beside him.

  Orsten shook his head, a wry smile on his face, and followed.

  They ventured deeper into the lush, dark forest, their senses heightened, wary of any hidden dangers. Orsten, the most experienced of the three, pulled out a small, blank piece of parchment. He held his hand over it and muttered a word. "Reveal."

  The parchment shimmered, and intricate lines began to appear, forming a detailed map of the surrounding area. It pulsed with a faint, ethereal glow, showing their location as a small, moving dot, and a destination marker further ahead.

  "The aether is strongest in that direction," Orsten said, pointing to their left. "Let's go."

  Zeldris and Yula followed him as he led them through the dense undergrowth. As they walked, they noticed tiny creatures flitting through the air, their bodies shimmering with a soft, warm light.

  "Look," Yula whispered, her voice filled with wonder. "Faeries. And they're glowing... It seems these little creatures are drawn to the concentrated aether here."

  "Indeed," Orsten rumbled, his gaze sweeping across the forest. "The increased aetheric energy is causing a noticeable effect on the local flora and fauna."

  Yula reached out, extending her hand to one of the faeries. It landed gently on her fingertip, its wings vibrating softly. A delicate chime filled the air, and the faerie's light enveloped Yula, bathing her in its glow. "They're… they're giggling," she murmured, her eyes wide with fascination. "And I feel… lighter somehow."

  She closed her eyes, focusing her intent, and extended her other arm. “Luminos."

  A sphere of brilliant light erupted from her palm, illuminating the forest with an intensity that surpassed even the faeries' glow, yet didn't sting the eyes. The trees, the foliage, the very air around them seemed to shimmer with newfound clarity.

  "Wow…" Yula breathed, her voice filled with awe. "Usually, this spell only produces a faint glimmer, but here… I can see everything so much more clearly." She turned slowly, taking in the majestic vista of the ancient forest, the towering trees reaching towards the heavens, the gentle breeze rustling through the leaves, sending a shiver of exhilaration down her spine.

  The faeries, tiny motes of iridescent light, danced around Orsten like playful sprites. A thrill, sharp and exhilarating, coursed through him as they brushed against his skin, a tangible connection to the legendary aether. "This is incredible!" he thought, his gaze wide with wonder. "Grandpa's stories… they were real!" He'd only ever heard of this in hushed whispers, tales of areas saturated with aether, where those skilled enough could draw it in, amplifying their own magical output. A surge of understanding washed over him. "No wonder the Imperial Army is obsessed with finding the source. This kind of power… it could change everything."

  He turned, a grin still playing on his lips, to share his awe with Zeldris. But the smile faltered. The faeries, so eager to embrace Orsten, hesitated around his companion, their luminous trails stuttering as if repelled by an unseen force. They flickered nervously, their tiny voices, usually a cheerful hum, now a low, fearful murmur.

  "D-d-darkness….no light…."

  "Death….fear…."

  The words, repeated like a frantic mantra, hung in the air, a chilling counterpoint to the beauty of the aether. Was it Zeldris himself that frightened them, or something deeper, something he unknowingly carried?