Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The day before Eli’s arrival, Alira knelt quietly upon the soft earth, eyes gently closed, meditating, taking in the flow of mana that flowed around her.

A sudden blinding light in her vision, as she went to open her eyes, a vision of a stranger from another realm flowed through her. Flashes of him appeared in the swirling mist of her inner sight, his figure half-obscured by shifting shadows laying still in the morning light.

His name—Eli—whispered around her and through her, barely a breath, yet as clear as if he had spoken it himself. Then came the pain. Not hers, but his. It wasn’t pain of the body, though, she could sense that as well. But pain of the soul. Grief so immense it swallowed the air, the earth, the sky. She could not discern its source, only the crushing weight of it—a wound deeper than flesh, the kind that never truly heals.

Yet beneath the sorrow, something vast and powerful.

Something hidden. Waiting.

Alira opened her eyes slowly, as she emerged from the vision. Her fingers instinctively pressed deeper into the cool, damp soil beneath her. The land thrummed under her touch, whispering secrets and truths no words could ever convey.

He will need you.

Alira rose, shaking off the remnants of meditation like a discarded skin. There was no time to waste.

She stepped into the current of mana, letting it carry her like a leaf on a river. She didn’t know where he would arrive, but she trusted the mana to carry her there. It flowed beneath the surface of the world, unseen by most, but to her it was as real as stone and sky. Time stretched and folded as she moved, the hours blurring into the shimmer of moonlight and wind.

Forests unfurled beneath her—tangled roots, dew-laced ferns, the soft hush of ancient groves. Her feet barely touched the earth, her body guided more by intention than motion. She passed beneath arching canopies and beside forgotten ruins cloaked in ivy, each step a seamless note in a song only she could hear.

She did not choose the path. She never had to.

And then—just as the first light touched the horizon—she found him.

Eli lay sprawled across the dewy grass, pale as moonlight, his body utterly still. Exactly as she had foreseen, except he was surrounded by several dead Kash’tar.

Had he killed all seven himself?

He had the wounds to show for it.

Alira knelt beside him, her breathing calm as she gently pressed a palm against his chest. Beneath her fingertips, Eli's pulse fluttered softly—weak, but resilient like a small flame fighting against the wind.

His injuries were substantial, bruises and cuts marking his skin, but as she extended her senses further, something far stranger halted her movements. Her brows knitted together as confusion flickered across her features.

Beneath the familiar currents of mana, Eli radiated mana. He had no clear affinity.

It wasn't merely raw or untrained—it was layered and dense, an aura vast yet shapeless, as though it had yet to find its true form. Alira sharpened her focus, mana slowing around her as if she was slowing time.

Mana should flow steadily; its affinity should channel it like a serene river following its natural course. But Eli's didn't. Instead, his energy branched unpredictably, shifting and diverging in ways that defied logic. It was neither chaotic nor corrupted—it was simply overwhelming, as if an ocean had been poured into a vessel far too small.

Her fingers hovered over his skin, brushing the lingering traces of the healing ability he had triggered earlier. Instinctual. Crude. But potent.

A flicker of something vast and unknown stirred beneath his aura, waiting—not dormant, not awake, but aware.

Alira’s lips pressed into a thin line.

Later. She would unravel this mystery later. For now, he needed her.

She closed her eyes, calling upon the natural currents of mana within herself, letting the land answer her command.

The response was immediate.

A deep blue glow ignited around her hand, mana flowing like thread spun from the air itself. She guided it into him, weaving carefully through his body, following the wounds, the fractures, the broken strands of life within him, she could feel the scars from his past injuries, devastation—that was the only word that came to mind.

His tissues responded, the damage knitting together, the flow of mana mending what his own power had only partially restored. She went deeper, into his old injuries, she could help some, but others were too deep.

She could sense the missing muscle around bones that had a metal plating attached to it.

What kind of crude medical operation had he gone through?

But even as she healed him, she could feel it—his power shifting beneath her touch, something beyond affinity, beyond classification.

Not dangerous. Not evil.

Just unknown.

As Alira worked, memories surfaced, unbidden. She was no stranger to pain.

Years ago, her village had been swallowed in darkness. Not just destruction—obliteration. A force that moved with merciless intent, unmaking everything in its path. She could still remember the scent of charred wood and rain-soaked earth, the way the sky had gone eerily silent before the screams began.

She had lost everything. But that was a very long time ago.

Since then, she had made her way through Caelum, a guide for those the world itself deemed

significant. She had learned to help without attachment, to watch from a distance, wary of forming bonds that loss might once again sever.

Eli stirred.

A slow inhale. A deeper breath than before. The pain was fading. His limbs felt lighter, the raw ache in his ribs now a distant throb. With effort, he blinked against the morning light, his vision adjusting. Shadows sharpened, shapes defined—at first the outline is all he could make out, but then his vision sharpened and a woman knelt beside him.

Green eyes met his, piercing and unreadable. Not unkind, but… searching, like she could see right through him.

She didn’t look like anyone he’d ever met. There was no sharp beauty, no ethereal glow. But her presence was something else entirely. Steady. Grounded. A kind of quiet strength radiated from her, the kind that came not from power, but from endurance.

Her face was weathered yet ageless, her features etched with something deeper than time. Strands of silver wove through long, braided hair that fell loosely over her shoulders.

And her gaze—soft, yet knowing. Not distant. Not impersonal.

Almost… motherly.

Eli shifted, trying to sit up.

That’s when he noticed the robes. Earth-toned, flowing, marked with intricate patterns he didn’t recognize. And her hands—hovering just above his chest, the last traces of a soft blue glow fading from her fingertips.

Warmth still lingered where she had touched him.

His throat felt dry. His mind, hazy. But one question cut through the fog.

“Who… who are you?” His voice came out rough, his eyes scanning her face with both distrust and relief.

She withdrew her hands. “Alira,” she said simply. “Just a friend.” Her voice was warm but steady, unshaken.

Eli exhaled, uncertain. His fingers brushed his ribs, then his legs—testing for pain.

His brows knit together. He should not feel this good, even his legs felt...not whole, but didn’t have the weakness that he could feel, had felt, every day since…

His gaze flicked back to Alira.

Her expression hadn’t changed, but he could feel it now—the weight of her watching him.

“What did you do to me?” Eli whispered, still in disbelief.

Alira smirked. “I healed you—or rather, finished healing you from whatever half-fixed you before I got here.”

Eli blinked. “What do you mean, ‘you healed me’? Are you a doctor or something?”

Alira pushed to her feet, looking down at him. “I am not a doctor—at least, not in the way you mean. I used mana.”

“Mana?” He squinted up at her. “Seriously?”

She nodded, her lips twitching in amusement. “Mana is the life force of this world. You carry it, too—although yours is a bit… wilder. Like a half-awake tharnox stumbling through a village.”

She paused, eyeing him. “It’s powerful. But wild—definitely untrained.”

Eli frowned, flexing his fingers, testing his limbs. They worked. Too well. He should be in agony. He should be barely able to move. Instead, he felt…stronger.

“Mana. Tharnoggle,” he murmured, half to himself.

Alira extended a hand, helping him up.

Her hand had a hardness to it, like worn leather. But it was also cool to the touch and when she pulled him up he had the feeling that his weight made little difference to her.

His legs trembled beneath him, the lingering stiffness making him sway.

He exhaled. Okay. Standing. Good start.

But then, as the first light of dawn pierced through the trees, light reflecting off dried blood.

Everything came crashing back down on him. His stomach twisted. The clearing was too quiet. Too empty.

He took an unsteady step forward, his pulse pounding against his ribs as his mind caught up to what he was seeing. Or rather—what he wasn’t.

The students.

They were gone.

His chest tightened, panic clawing its way up his throat.

“Where… where are they?” His voice wavered. He turned in place, scanning the ground, searching for footsteps, bodies, anything—Nothing.

Just blood-stained grass and the faint scent of iron lingering in the cool morning air.

“They were just here.” His voice cracked, barely a whisper. “They were right here.”

His mind raced, memories crashing into each other—the fight, the creatures, Marcus throwing a rock, Raj getting tackled, Kelly screaming—

And then…The last beast.

His last hit.

He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to remember. He had struck it. Killed it. He had seen it fall. The weird light.

Then what? His heart pounded.

He swallowed hard. “I killed the last one… I remember that. Then—I closed my eyes, but…”

“I saw something, about healing, activate?” He couldn’t bring it all back, only flashes.

“Everything happened so fast, but…”

He trailed off, his breath coming faster now.

Where the hell were they? Eli turned in circles, scanning the clearing, expecting to see their bodies appear—blood, footprints, anything. But there was nothing.

Only the creatures remained.

Seven of them, their striped fur matted with blood, their rat-like teeth still bared in death. Their corpses were the only proof that the fight had even happened.

A shiver crawled down Eli’s spine. He could still hear the screams, the chaos—the desperation of the others as they fought to survive.

But now, they were gone. Where they really here? Where is here?

Alira looked on in concern but had no idea what he was going on about.

She took a step forward, towards Eli. She stopped half way as he began muttering names.

“Sam… Kelly… Marcus… Raj… Nina… Sarah… Liam…” He swallowed hard, each name a weight pressing heavier on his chest.

Saying them felt wrong, but he needed to know that this wasn’t all in his head.

Like trying to hold onto something slipping through his fingers. Like they weren’t real anymore.

“Where are they?”

The silence stretched. Then—a glint in the grass. Eli’s gaze snapped to it, his heart lurching.

Something small, half-buried in the disturbed earth.

He took several steps and dropped to his knees, fingers fumbling as he pulled it free.

A pair of round glasses. Bent. Cracked. His throat tightened. “Sam…”

Eli exhaled sharply, his chest clenching. He could see Sam’s nervous hands fidgeting with these glasses, pushing them up his nose while he rambled about physics theories.

The memory was so clear—so real—that it felt impossible that Sam wasn’t standing beside him right now.

But he wasn’t. No one was.

His grip tightened around the bloodstained metal.

He turned sharply toward Alira. She stood nearby, watching him.

She hadn’t moved any closer. She wasn’t trying to console him. She was waiting. Her green eyes studied him, quiet and steady, but something about her expression made his pulse quicken.

Eli shot to his feet, his grip firm on the glasses.

“These were his.” His voice trembled, but his words came sharp. “He was lying right there.”

He pointed to a flattened patch of grass near one of the creatures' bodies. His breath came faster now.

“He was here! They were all here! What happened to them?” His voice rose in pitch, edged with panic. “Where did they go?”

The silence that followed was too heavy. Too wrong.

Alira exhaled softly. Stepping closer, her expression softening. “I only saw you and the Kash’tar,” gesturing to the dead creatures, “when I arrived,” she said gently. “No one else.”

Eli’s breath hitched. That doesn’t make sense. His heart pounded as his gaze swept the clearing again, desperately searching for something—anything.

His fingers clenched around Sam’s glasses.

“No, no. That’s not possible.” His voice wavered. “They were here. I remember… I remember the fight. I remember them fight back,” he rubbed his temples. “They were still breathing—some of them, at least.” Whispering the last part. “I would’ve seen if they…”

His words caught in his throat. If they what? If they died? If they had been taken? He shook his head violently, rejecting the thought. Eli dropped back to one knee, eyes closed tight, trying to will this all to end.

Alira knelt beside him, her movements slow and deliberate, careful. “Sometimes,” she said softly, “when those from other realms arrive, the land, the mana doesn’t accept them and rejects them.”

Eli’s stomach tightened. Rejects them? His hands curled into fists.

“This place…” Alira continued, looking around the clearing, “Is not always accepting of visitors from other realms.”

Eli’s head snapped toward her. His pulse pounded in his skull, hot with anger. “What are you talking about?” His voice shook, equal parts rage and disbelief.

“The visitors? We didn’t ask to come here. We didn’t jump in. It ripped us through.”

Eli’s gaze was off towards the tree line, but only seeing the students pulled through the hole.

“But, they were fine,” Eli shook his head, “Not fine, but they were…they were real!”

He held up the glasses, his fingers white-knuckled around the frame. “This is real! They were here!”

The wind stirred the grass.

For the first time, Alira’s expression shifted—not pity, not sadness, but something deeper.

Understanding. “I don’t doubt they were real, Eli.” Her voice remained steady, unwavering. “But this land is harsh.” She met his gaze, her green eyes unreadable. “It takes what it wishes.”

She looked down at him. “Sometimes it leaves no trace behind.” Alira added, her voice distant, as she thought back to her village, and the people in it, completely gone.

Eli’s stomach twisted.

His skin prickled.

Her words struck like a hammer to his chest, cracking something deep inside him that had barely begun to heal. The hollow ache that had followed him since the crash now roared back to life, swallowing him whole.

Eli stared at the glasses, his hands trembling. The world blurred at the edges as the memories surged forward, unstoppable.

His mother’s laugh—soft and warm, like sunlight through an open window.

His father’s hand—steady on his shoulder, reassuring.

The crash—the shattering of glass. The weightless, stomach-dropping terror.

The empty hospital room.

The deafening silence of Miles’s house.

The weight of a world that had moved on without them. And now, these students—maybe not friends, but as close to friends as he had—were gone, too.

Eli’s grip on the glasses tightened, bending the glasses.

“I can’t do this again,” he muttered, his voice raw and breaking. “I can’t lose more people. I just—I can’t.”

The despair that had consumed him after the crash loomed again, a dark pit yawning beneath him, whispering the same lies it had back then:

You’re alone. You’re lost. You don’t matter.

His chest heaved, breath coming in short, uneven gasps. His heart slammed against his ribs, his pulse roaring in his ears.

The world tilted. He felt as if he was falling down a hole.

“Eli.” Alira’s voice cut through the noise.

His head snapped up. His vision was blurred, but he refused to let the tears fall.

Alira knelt beside him, her gaze steady, unwavering. “I know this pain,” she said softly. “I have felt it, too. I have lost people who were my entire world.”

Eli shook his head sharply, his teeth clenched. “They didn’t deserve this. None of them did. And now they’re just… gone. Just like my parents.” His breath hitched. “Gone, like they never even mattered.”

Alira reached out, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder.

Grounding. Steady.

“Their lives mattered, Eli. And so does yours.” Her fingers pressed slightly firmer, not holding him down—holding him here.

“You survived this, even when the odds were against you.” Her voice was calm, sure. “That survival means something. It always does.”

Eli let out a hollow laugh, shaking his head. “Surviving doesn’t mean anything other than you are alone.”

Alira’s grip tightened slightly.

“I promise, Eli—in time, it will.”

She let her words settle.

“But for now, you must stay here, in this moment.” Her voice was gentle, but firm. “Let the grief come, but don’t let it take you.”

Her green eyes held his. “You are stronger than that.”

Eli turned the glasses over in his hand, thumb brushing the faint crack in the lens. The ache in his chest didn’t fade, but beneath the suffocating grief, something else stirred.

Anger.

Not wild, not blinding—but a sharp, smoldering refusal to let despair claim him again.

“What do I do now?”” he whispered, though the words felt more like a question for himself than for her.

Alira stood, her eyes gleaming with something resolute. “You keep moving,” she said. “For yourself. And for them.”

Eli swallowed hard, his jaw tightening. He didn’t answer right away, but when he finally rose to his feet, his posture was steadier.

He glanced toward the forest beyond the clearing, where the unknown stretched before him like an open wound. His fingers curled around the glasses. Warm against his palm. A tether to what he’d lost. Tucking them into his pocket, he took a long, deep breath.

“Where do I even begin?”

Alira turned, her voice a calm anchor against the chaos still swirling in his mind. “One step at a time. Come. I know a place where we can rest.”

Eli took a deep breath and started walking. One step at a time.