It was another day in Daerin, where a certain sentient moon was granting luminescence upon the city. The light of the Fire Spirit, Volcanus, shone dimmer to indicate that the time was around the early evening. Footsteps were still abundant in the streets, owing to people whose daily routines extended past the late hours of the afternoon. Two years ago, this would have been unlikely as around this time, everyone would have been holed up inside the safety of their own houses.

...Steps sounding erratic and hastened could be heard from amongst the plethora of others. It came from a thirteen-year-old boy with a head full of green hair reminiscent of a patch of grass, eyes bright and viridescent, and ears long and pointed.

Huff... Huff...

He ran in long strides, almost bumping into other people at times but deftly weaving past them, not allowing for anyone to bar his path. He held strongly with both hands onto an object on his chest, hidden within his clothes.

A few seconds later, along the trail he had run past, a few people with frantic expressions— their heads bobbing left and right, followed shortly while inquiring passersby. They questioned every pedestrian and bystander they'd come across, asking for traces of someone carrying a circular object.

The boy with the grass-patch hair ducked into a dark alleyway and looked over his shoulder, he sighed in relief at the lack of pursuers and continued to run, “Ah!!” He cried, as he crashed into someone after exiting through the other side. As his hands were glued onto his chest, preventing him from cushioning his fall, he felt a shock to his behind as he fell hard on his posterior.

“—Sorry about that! Didn't expect anyone to suddenly jump out from there!”

A young male— ashen-grey hair and icy blue eyes, wearing a loose, light-colored training suit— he extended his hand to help him up.

While the grass-patched boy appreciated the gesture, he ignored the young male's hand and rolled around to stand himself up and run away.

The ashen-haired young male stood dumbfounded at his response, “Did I say something wrong?” He uttered, and shifted attention to the green-uniformed men approaching intimidatingly.

They took a glance at his hair and furrowed their brows, “Urie Loeth. Have you seen anyone about this tall running around here?” One of them asked, waving his hand to a certain height, the same as the boy that had bumped into him.

“Nope, don't think I have.” He answered with a straight face.

The long ears of the uniformed men twitched at his reply and cast on him a few doubts, “Well, let us know if you have, that person has committed an offense towards the council and he is a wanted man.”

“...I told you. Haven't seen the guy.” The young male repeated.

Seeing as they couldn't elicit a suitable response, they left the young male and went back to searching. The young male stared at their backs as they left, “Show courtesy to those who deserve it.” He whispered, recalling a lesson he had been taught by his mother.

Treat others as they treat you, show courtesy to those deserving, “Even opponents who show each other civility appear much better than people who openly discard them.”

He looked towards the direction where the green-haired boy ran off, “What did he do to offend the council anyway?” He thought for a second and shook his head as he decided not to pursue the matter and continued on his evening jog.

Meanwhile, the very boy from earlier arrived at a small wooden house— taking a quick look around to make sure nobody had followed him before entering his home. He pressed his entire weight on the door, expecting a barrage of loud knocking, but hearing nothing in the next few seconds, he slumped down onto the wooden planks below.

“Huff... I-I lost them,” he spoke while gasping for air and reached into his shirt, taking out a small mirror encased in an ornate frame. He whispered, “This... This thing can save Ellie?”

His eyes shifted from the mirror in his trembling hand to a quiet room devoid of a door on the corner of the house. A small groan escaped from his mouth as he got up and slowly made his way there. Inside of the room was a bed with a thin film of mana encasing it like a net. Lying on the bed was a girl, thirteen years of age, with long, verdant green hair, and the same type of ears as him.

“E-Ellie... You won't have to wait long. Pretty soon you'll be up and bouncing around like before,” He felt sad but at the same time hopeful as he stared at his sister who seemed to be experiencing a peaceful dream.

He once again examined the mirror in his hand. This was the key. The key to waking up his younger sister from a dream that had lasted for three agonizingly long years...

*

- Age Thirteen – Urie Loeth -

Urie Loeth was in the backyard of the Varethe Residence, holding onto a blade in a swinging stance. Clear thoughts, firm and decisive strikes— ingrained in each swing of his katana were the fruits of his two years' hard work. He repeatedly cut through air, initially with no wasted motion, but after continuous practice, the sweat slowly built up in his clothes and the trajectory of his swings began to curve.

“Hah!!” Huff... Huff...

Every day he would go about his routine. Under Luca Varethe's guidance, he would practice mana circulation in the morning, go on patrols in the afternoon, and then do physical exercises in the evening with Stella Varethe. As for education— Ashur had been visiting regularly to impart knowledge as per Urie's request.

...After repeated use of mana, Luca Varethe made an observation, there was one thing off about Urie's mana circulation. He had an abnormally fast rate of circulation— absorbing and converting to magic, this provided great utility when it came to combat, but not every benefit came without a drawback.

The rate of increase in strength of his mana seed was too fast. Too fast for his developing body to keep up with. This must've been due to his mana roots being thicker than most.

“Hah!!”

“Little Urie! Practice time is over, wipe yourself off and come eat dinner.”

“Just—Huff... A few more swings—Huff, “

“You better not make me come out in another fifteen minutes and extend practice for another hour,” Stella Varethe threatened.

“Ah, no mama Stella! I'm done, I'm done!” Urie rushed over and took the damp cloth that was offered to him and wiped the abundant amount of sweat on his body.

“Mama Stella, do you know anything about the commotion that was going on earlier?”

“Commotion? What happened?”

“The Elven Guard were going around asking questions. They seemed to be looking for someone.”

“No, I haven't heard. Well, you can ask that old man when he comes around.”

“Alright... What's for dinner?”

“You'll see.” Stella said with a smile.

They entered the house and arrived at the dining table, and on the table, Urie saw an impressive array of fruits, vegetables, along with the ever-present home-made bread that Stella had baked.

He spoke with a subtly forced enthusiasm, “Oh—! There's a lot today!”

The food spread on the table was enough to whet anyone's appetite, anyone that is that had lived on this darker side of Daerin. Urie however, had grown up on the side of daylight and had acquired the taste for something that was in particular missing from the table. His eyes darted across the table only to find disappointment.

Meat. He had a longing for meat. Within the two years he had been here, he had roamed the city in search for it but had always come home in vain.

“Meat?” He had once asked Stella, “We do have some livestock as well as cattle, but we need them for the production of milk and eggs. Rarely do we ever get to eat them,” She answered.

“What? Is there something wrong with my cooking?”

“Ah! No, it's great! I just—“

“Just kidding, here's your plate.” Stella laughed.

—Meat was something Urie was looking forward to greatly after he finds his way home, but for now, he sighed heavily before sitting down and partaking in his evening meal. Just as they started eating dinner, they heard a knock on the front door.

“What are you doing here this late at night?” Stella asked.

“Grandpa Ashur?”

Urie saw Stella's father, Ashur, at the door. He could tell from the complicated expression he had that he'd come to inform them of something urgent.

While restlessly squeezing his hands, Ashur spoke in a solemn tone, “Child, I've come bearing ill news. Neia's mirror was stolen.”

“Wait, who's mirror was stolen?” Stella asked.

“Neia's mirror. It's the name of that small mirror that we need to open a bridge to the other side of Daerin.”

“Neia's mirror,” Urie whispered,” Was this the reason why the Elven Guard were dispatched around the city?”

“Yes, and I was late to let you know of it because I was detained. The council thought that I was repeating my actions two years ago.”

...Two years ago, Urie thought, back to when he had first arrived. Ashur had taken Neia's mirror without consulting the Elder Council of elves, and even with him holding the highest position, this action had placed him under heavy scrutiny. Urie knew that Ashur had done this act primarily for his granddaughter, Celeste, and as a way to hopefully patch up his relationship with his daughter, Stella.

“This is bad then. Without that mirror, Little Urie wouldn't be able to go home. Likewise, my daughter...” Stella clenched her fists.

“Grandpa Ashur, do they have an idea of who it was that took it?”

“Only a rough profile, but anyone in the city could fit the part. So we don't actually have much to go on.”

Urie fell silent. Earlier, just before he was questioned by the green-uniformed men, he coincidentally bumped into a boy who had been acting quite suspicious, “What description did they give out, exactly?” he asked.

“Nothing much, except he was around this height, and he had green hair. That would cross humans off of our list, but it would still include a third, if not, half of the population of Daerin.”

“I think I might know who it is.”

“Y-You do!? Who?” Ashur exclaimed in surprise.
Urie brought his hand up to scratch his cheek, “Not personally. It was an elven boy I bumped into when I was out on my jog. He was hiding something in his shirt, it must've been the mirror.”

“That's good enough. At least we know who to look for. Good work child.”

“Wait,” Stella interrupted, “If we retrieve the mirror, won't it just land back into the hands of the council of old men?”

Ashur winced, “You're right daughter... Since sir fire spirit hasn't woken up yet, we can't use it yet, but when the time comes— they might not be keen on lending it again.”

Stella snorted lightly after hearing the word 'daughter' come out of Ashur's mouth, but agreed with his words, “So let's just take it from the thief and hide it from the council. Easy.”

“Let— We should speak to the thief first,” Urie interjected, “The mirror isn't of use to anyone, right? And only the council knows of its use. So what would he steal it for? What would he gain?”

Ashur and Stella were taken aback. Urie was right. Stealing was an unbelievable concept in this city. Currency didn't exist, and food wasn't an issue. The city was virtually a utopia, if not for the things that go bump and siphon your mana at night.

“You're right, child. Maybe there's more to this than what meets the eye. I shall give you my support if you need it.”

“Thank you, grandpa Ashur,”

“M-Me as well.”

“Thank you, mama Stella, I will look into this tomorrow,” Urie replied, but to Stella's dismay he added, “For now, grandpa Ashur, why don't you come in for dinner?”