Mission

The Crusdelsur Library. A sanctuary of sturdy stone walls and the scent of aged parchment, where the silence was broken only by the creak of wood and the rustle of turning pages. Specks of dust danced beneath shafts of sunlight filtering through the high windows, illuminating endless rows of oak bookshelves that safeguarded decades of stellar wisdom.

There went Daniella, rushing back and forth, grabbing books off the shelves with blind familiarity and scattering them across one of the long tables at the center.

“Stellar Encyclopedia... Cartography Encyclopedia... Beasts Encyclopedia...” Daniella rummaged through the shelves without pause. “Ah! Why is it that things never show up when you actually need them?!”

If any merchant or outsider had walked into the library and witnessed her frenzy, they would have undoubtedly thought the girl was losing her mind.

However, to anyone from Crusdelsur, this was precisely her routine behavior whenever she immersed herself in research.

“Ow!” she cried out as a heavy tome slipped from the top shelf and bumped squarely against her head. She hunched her shoulders with a pout, instinctively shrinking beneath the brim of her large green hat.

The only difference today was that Daniella didn’t experience divine revelations or dreams involving Datia Herself every day.

Still rubbing the crown of her head as she tried to recover, she picked up the thick volume to place it back in its spot.

“Where did you fall from, Geographical Encyc—?”

Daniella’s expression shifted from pained to pure awe in a matter of seconds, her dark eyes wide as the light from the skylight illuminated the open pages.

“I got it!”

Clutching the volume tightly against her chest, she rushed back to the central table. Dropping it onto the wood with a thud, her trembling fingers traced the illustrated maps.

“Geographical Encyclopedia of the Continent,” she began muttering at breakneck speed. “Written by capital scholars in the year 102 After Datia, two years ago, containing all information on roads, mountain ranges, lakes, trade routes, oceanic depths, kingdom borders, and—”

Daniella froze, realizing she was rambling out of sheer excitement. She shook her head vigorously to snap back to reality.

“Focus, Daniella! Today is not the time to get lost in useless trivia!”

With the surgical precision and speed unique to someone who spent every spare hour of her life in this room, she began flipping through the pages. She cross-referenced chronicles of ancient, ferocious blizzards with records of active volcanoes.

She knew exactly what she was searching for. About halfway through the tome, right in the section dedicated to the northern regions, her finger came to a sudden halt.

“Aha!” she gasped in a hushed whisper upon finding the precise entry.

“Mount Ash. A mountain of imposing height, notorious for the severe storm activity that constantly batters its peaks and for its sheer, dark stone cliffs. Located near the ruins of Aethelgard, the once-flourishing mining paradise of the Kingdom of Rode, tragically abandoned in the year 99 A.D. after the uncontrollable spread of Corruption and its shadows forced residents to flee to the southern valleys. On its southeastern flank, exposed to the freezing winds of the mountain range, a fissure in the rock clearly forms the shape of the Hare Constellation.”

The Hare Constellation was a minor figure her mother had taught her to draw in the margins of her notebook when she was little. A curved, almost childish silhouette.

The exact same shape the vision of the Goddess had etched into her mind.

That was the place.

An icy chill ran down her spine. The vision and the text proclaimed the same terrifying truth.

Indeed, the path toward the mountain cut straight through dangerous, forgotten reaches of the world. It was no coincidence that few ever ventured beyond Crusdelsur in search of adventure; corrupted beasts of the night lurked along every trail, and vestiges of miasma devoured any flicker of hope on the outer roads.

Yet Daniella knew that what she had seen was no hallucination.

It was real.

The stone was there.

The sudden collision between the rush of discovery and the desperation to save her mother sent her heart into a wild frenzy. Without stopping to put the books away or adjust her hat, she scooped the heavy tome into her arms and bolted for the exit.

She stumbled through the cobbled streets of Crusdelsur, dodging villagers with rushed apologies that barely managed to escape her lips.

Bursting through the front door of her home out of breath, she slammed it open and rushed down the hallway into the room where her mother rested.

“Mom! Mom!” she cried out, her voice brimming with an excitement that seemed entirely uncharacteristic of her.

“Daniella...” Her mother, Eunomia, looked up with serene, weary eyes. She appeared more lucid thanks to the midnight healing, though her features betrayed a deep confusion. “What happened, my child? Why are you in such a rush?”

“I saw the Goddess, Mom! Datia! She told me where the Sky Torch is!”

Eunomia’s eyes brightened, caught between surprise and disbelief. “Is... is that true?”

“Yes! I saw it with my own eyes! She was standing right before me, almost in tears! But I know where it is! It’s at Mount Ash, up north, in the ruins of Aethelgard! We can retrieve it! We can light the Lighthouse of the End once again!”

“My sweet girl...”

Daniella was breathless and exultant. Above all, her dark eyes glistened on the verge of tears from an overwhelming joy—a ray of pure hope she hadn't felt since her mother’s condition began to deteriorate.

“We can stop the Corruption. We can save you, Mom. You, Crusdelsur... everyone!”

Eunomia nodded softly, gazing at her with peaceful devotion, as if she had been waiting for this news her entire life.

“I see. It truly is a miracle,” she murmured gently.

“Who should I speak to first? The Archmage? Or the Council of Astronomers? We’ll need to rally all the mages and march north. We’ll need supplies, but thankfully it’s parsnip and turnip season, so there should be warm soup for everyone along the way...”

As Daniella often did whenever excitement or panic threatened to overwhelm her, she began pacing around the room, holding her staff in one hand and her pointed hat in the other.

She peeked out the window to see if she could spot any town elders.

She counted on her fingers, estimating how many tons of preserved meats they would need to carry until they reached the next city.

She considered the harsh northern winter—notoriously cold and inhospitable—reminding herself that everyone would need enough heavy layers.

That was Daniella: when the world grew too vast and terrifying, her mind sought refuge in the smallest details. Planning every ounce of weight and every stitch was her way of convincing herself that she still had something under control.

Because of that, she failed to notice her mother tilting her head with gentle tenderness behind her.

“You cannot tell anyone about this, Daniella.”

Daniella froze in her tracks. The ecstatic smile she had worn since rushing in from the library hung suspended mid-gesture, turning rigid on her lips.

“...Pardon?”

Eunomia’s soft smile never faded. Her honey-colored eyes reflected the warmth of a setting sun, and her hands crossed calmly over her lap, radiating the quiet grace of someone who seemed to have lived this exact conversation a thousand times before.

“Daniella...” Her eyes began to glisten, heavy with tears that threatened to fall. “For as long as I can remember, I have been devoted to Datia, our Goddess. The cradle of our faith, the First Benevolent Light that rescued us from endless darkness...”

The joy on Daniella’s face crumbled instantly, twisting into a suppressed grimace of pain.

“You... don’t believe me?” Daniella could barely whisper.

“I do believe you, Daniella. That she chose you—the one born beneath the Silver Eclipse—is no coincidence. She knows you possess the heart required to prevail over any evil.”

“Then—”

“However...” Eunomia gently cut her off. “I also know what that vision means. Datia is the Heroine who embodies courage, resilience, and the faith required to open one’s heart to others.”

Courage... Resilience... Faith...

When had those words ever been used to describe her?

Her—who shrank beneath the gaze of a stranger.

Her—who lived in constant terror of her own mistakes.

“That is why I understand why she chose you, my child,” Eunomia continued, her voice soft yet firm. “She isn't asking you to be perfect. She wants you to find the path to heal your own heart along this journey—the heart that holds the strength to overcome darkness. And that is why... you must undertake this journey alone.”

Daniella’s heart sank straight to the floor.

“By... myself...?”

‘I can’t do it.’

‘I’ve never left Crusdelsur on my own.’

‘What if I get lost?’

‘What if someone attacks me?’

‘I won’t be able to defend myself.’

‘My magic won’t work when I need it most.’

At the top of her staff, the green crystal sphere began to flicker with erratic, rapid pulses as a storm of dark thoughts invaded her mind.

The air in her lungs felt thick, and the walls of the room seemed to press in closer around her.

“No... I can’t,” she whimpered, taking a step back. Her hands trembled so violently she nearly dropped her staff.

“My child... I know you can,” Eunomia insisted, reaching out a trembling hand toward her.

A painful knot tightened in Daniella’s throat, accompanied by a sharp, icy pang in her stomach. The sheer thought of stepping past the town gates alone—of confronting the vastness of the continent and the terrifying monsters of the Corruption—felt like a death sentence.

Even while being her.

Or perhaps, precisely because it was her.

“I can’t!” she cried out in a broken voice.

With suffocating tears blurring her vision and the sphere on her staff sputtering in panic, Daniella spun on her heel and bolted from the house, leaving her mother sitting alone in the quiet room.