The Anomaly's Path

The eastern path was dark.

The lanterns from the village had long since faded behind me, swallowed by the trees and the growing shadows. The moon was hidden behind a curtain of clouds, and the only light came from the occasional firefly drifting between the branches.

The air was cool and damp, thick with the smell of earth and old leaves. It was the kind of darkness that made you feel like you were the only person left in the world.

I did not know exactly where I was going.

Roran had said Mia went this way, but he had not said where. Just past the eastern gate, toward the old willow. That was all.

So I walked.

The path twisted and turned, narrowing until it was barely more than a deer trail. The trees pressed in close, their branches forming a canopy that blocked out what little light remained. I kept walking, my boots sinking into the soft earth, my hand resting on Tempest out of habit more than need.

...And then I found her.

The trees opened up into a small clearing, and in the center of that clearing stood two graves. They were old but well-kept.

The stones were smooth and grey, scrubbed clean of moss and dirt.

Wildflowers—Star-Lilies grew around the base of each grave, their petals glowing faintly in the moonlight. Someone had been here recently, tending to this place, making sure it did not fall into ruin.

The flowers were fresh. The ground was swept clean of fallen leaves.

Mia was sitting in front of the graves.

She was huddled on the ground, knees pulled to her chest. She was staring at the stones, her face half-hidden in shadow. She looked small—not like the sharp-tongued healer of the village, but like a girl lost in a world too big for her.

I stopped at the edge of the clearing and read the names carved into the stones.

Elias Rayner.

Seraphine Rayner.

Her parents.

I understood now why Roran had sent me here. Why he had said I would figure it out when I saw her. This was not about the festival. This was not about the village. This was about goodbye.

This was about the kind of grief that never really goes away, the kind that sits in your chest and waits for nights like this to come out.

I walked forward, my boots crunching softly on the grass. The sound was loud.

"You know how much I struggled to find you?" I asked softly.

Mia jumped.

Her whole body flinched, and she spun around, her eyes wide, her hand flying to her chest like she was trying to catch her heart before it escaped. For a moment, she just stared at me, her mouth open, her face pale in the moonlight.

The shadows under her eyes told me she had been crying, though her cheeks were dry now.

"Leo?!" she breathed, her voice trembling. "What—how—why are you here?!"

"I was looking for you," I said, raising my hands to show I wasn’t a threat. "Sorry. I didn’t mean to sneak up on your private spot or to scare you."

"You did not mean to—" She stopped, took a breath, and pressed her palm against her forehead. "You appeared out of nowhere like some kind of ghost. How long have you been standing there?"

"Not much. I just came here."

Her glare softened a little. She looked back at the graves, then at me. The anger drained out of her face, replaced by something else. Something tired and sad.

I walked over and sat down next to her. The grass was damp, and I felt the moisture soak through my trousers, but I did not care. We sat there in silence for a long time, the two of us, staring at the stones and the flowers and the moonlight.

"Your parents," I said.

"...Yes."

"I am sorry."

She did not say anything. She just pulled her knees tighter to her chest and rested her chin on them.

The minutes passed.

The wind moved through the trees, carrying the distant sound of music from the village. The fireflies drifted between the graves, their light soft and green. The moon came out from behind the clouds, painting the clearing in pale silver.

It was peaceful here, in a way that the village was not. There was no laughter here. No music. No dancing. Just the quiet and the graves and the weight of everything that had been lost.

"...My parents," she said finally, her voice brittle. "They were doctors. Real ones. They saved lives until one day, they went to war areas to save lives and never come back..."

She paused, her chin resting on her knees. "Leo... do you believe in gods?"

The question caught me off guard. I turned to look at her, but she was still staring at the graves, her face hidden in shadow. The moonlight caught the side of her cheek, and I could see that her eyes were wet again.

"Gods?" I repeated.

"Yes," she said. "Do you believe in them? Do you think they exist?"

I thought about it.

It was not like I did not believe in gods. I did.

Even back on Earth, I was not an atheist. I never thought the world could exist without something behind it. A creator. A force. Something. But I was never religious either. I never prayed. I never went to temples or churches.

I just... believed. In a vague, distant way.

...And in this world, in Aetheris, I knew the gods were real.

I had played the game. I had read the lore. I knew about the Abyss King and the war and the apostles. I knew that Arthur was chosen by a goddess. The gods were not myths here. They were facts.

But did I believe in them? Trust them?

That was a different question.

"I believe they exist," I said finally. "I have seen too much to think otherwise."

"But do you trust them?" she asked.

I shook my head. "I do not know. Maybe not. After everything I have learned..." I trailed off, searching for the right words. "I am not sure the gods are as good as the stories say."

Mia nodded slowly. She seemed to understand.

"...I used to believe in them," she said. "When I was younger. I used to think the gods were beings who did miracles. I used to believe they were the essence of miracles. Who made the impossible possible. That is what it meant to be a god, right? To do things that no one else could do."

She pulled her knees tighter to her chest and rested her chin on them.

"My mother believed in them. She used to pray every night, before bed. She would light a small candle and sit by the window and talk to the gods like they were old friends. She said they watched over us, even when we could not see them. She said they had a plan for everyone, and that we just had to trust them."

Her voice was soft, almost dreamy, like she was seeing her mother’s face in the darkness.

"Because of her, I believed too. I prayed every day. Every night. I thanked the gods for the food on the table and the roof over my head. I asked them to protect the people I loved. It made me feel safe. Like someone was watching out for us. Someone cares for us."

She paused. The fireflies drifted between us.

"...And then my parents went to war."

Her voice changed. It got harder, flatter. Like she was reciting facts instead of telling a story.

"I prayed to the gods every single day. Every single night. I... begged them to bring my parents back. I said I would do anything. I would be good. I would help people. I would devote my life to them. Just... please, please bring them home..."

She looked down at her hands.

"...But the gods never answered. They never did anything. They just... watched."

The silence that followed was heavy. It pressed down on my chest like a physical weight.

"I kept praying," she continued. "Even after I heard my parents were dead. I did not believe it. I prayed for months and years. I thought maybe if I prayed hard enough, the gods would change their minds. They would bring my parents back. They would undo what had happened."

She shook her head slowly.

"But nothing changed. The gods did not answer. They did not care. They never cared."

I wanted to say something, but the words would not come. What could I say? I am sorry? I had already said that. The gods have their reasons? I did not believe that myself.

She was quiet for a moment, staring at the graves. When she spoke again, her voice was barely above a whisper.

"If death takes everyone in the end... what was the point of living? If I ever die, if I ever get to meet the gods, that is what I will ask them."

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

"There is a legend. An old tale that very few people know," she said, her voice turning hard, a cold edge replacing the grief.

"The tale of the Forgotten One. My mother told me about it once, a long time ago. She said there was a being who fought alongside the others against the Abyss King. One of the strongest. But after the war, that god’s name was erased from history."

She looked at me.

"No one knows their name. No one knows their gender. No one knows anything about them. It is like someone removed them from existence on purpose. The historians called them The Forgotten One."

"The Forgotten One?" I repeated. The name felt strange in my mouth, like a word from a language I did not speak.

I frowned. That name was not familiar. In all the time I had played the game, in all the lore I had read, there was no mention of any Forgotten One. I opened my mouth to ask more, but Mia was already talking again.

"Some people say they are the oldest of all. Older than the world itself. And they say that being listened to everyone. Every prayer. Every cry. Every whisper. They heard everything."

She looked at me, her eyes wet again. "I prayed to them when the others ignored me. I didn’t care if they were a demon or a ghost, good or bad. I did not care what they wanted in return. I just wanted my parents to come home."

She looked down at her hands. "But they did not answer either. No one did."

Her voice cracked on the last word.

"So I stopped believing. I stopped praying. I started to hate the gods. All of them. I thought they were liars. Pretenders. Beings who sat up in their golden palaces and watched people suffer for their own amusement."

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, but the tears kept coming.

"...And then one day, when I woke up, something inside me had changed. I did not know how to explain it. It was like... something had awakened. Something that had been sleeping inside me my whole life."

She held up her hands. They were trembling.

"That was when I got this power. The... Soul Weaving."

I felt my chest tighten. I had seen what that power could do. I had felt it in my own body, the way it had healed me, the way it had made me stronger. But I had never thought about what it cost her.

"I thought it was a blessing at first," she continued. "I thought maybe this was the gods’ way of answering me. That with this power, I could find my parents. I could bring them back. I could heal them."

She shook her head. "But I was wrong." Her hands dropped to her lap. "This power is not a blessing, Leo. It is a curse."

"...It is not a curse," I said, but my voice sounded weak even to me.

"You do not understand." Her voice was firm, almost sharp. "Every time I use it, I feel like I am losing a part of myself. Not just my life force. Something deeper. Something I cannot name."

"..."

"I am not scared of death. Not really. If I die using this power to save someone, then that is fine. That is a good death. But I am scared of losing myself, or becoming someone else. I’m scared that one day I’ll wake up and I won’t know who I am anymore."

Her voice broke.

"This power... it feels like a reminder. A reminder from the gods that power always comes with a price. Never wish for something you are not willing to pay for."

She was crying now. Quietly. The tears ran down her cheeks, and she did not wipe them away. She just let them fall.

"You know, I always wanted to be a doctor. Like my parents. I wanted to save lives. I wanted to make them proud. I studied herbs and medicine because I thought that was the only way. And then I got this power, and it felt like... like the gods or that being were mocking me."

She sniffled.

"Like they were saying, ’You want to save lives? Fine. Here. But every time you do, you will lose a piece of yourself.’"

She looked at me. Her eyes were red, her cheeks wet.

"That is why I do not use it. Not unless I have to. I use my knowledge. My herbs. My hands. Because that is mine. That is something I earned. Not something the gods gave me as a joke."

I watched her, feeling the weight of her words. I reached out and placed my hand firmly on top of her head, ruffling her hair.

"Then don’t use it," I said.

She blinked, looking up at me through her tears. "...What?"

"Do not use your power. If it scares you, if it makes you feel like you are losing yourself, then do not use it." I kept my hand on her head, steady and still. "You said you have knowledge. Herbs. Medicine. Use that. You do not need to rely on your power to save people."

"But how can I—"

"You wanted to be a doctor, right? A healer. Not a miracle worker. A doctor." I looked at her. "Then be a doctor. Use your hands. Your mind. Your herbs. That is enough. You do not need to throw your life away every time someone gets hurt."

She stared at me.

"Your dream is hard," I said. "Harder than mine, maybe. I kill things. That is simple. You want to save lives. That is complicated. You can’t save everyone, Mia. No one can. But saving some is enough. Don’t throw your soul away for a dream you can achieve without it."

I took my hand off her head and looked at the graves.

The silence returned, but the tension had snapped. Mia wiped her eyes with her sleeve and leaned slightly into my hand.

"You are a jerk, Leo," she muttered. "Ugh, it is frustrating. Someone was right that men do not know how to console someone."

"I know," I chuckled.

"Honestly? You know what?" I said. Mia looked at me.

"You actually remind me a lot of my little sister. Her name is also Mia. She’s six, and she talks so much that once she starts, the only way to stop her is to cover her mouth. She’s stubborn and never listens. She is exhausting."

Mia’s cheeks turned red. "W-what? Who said I talk a lot? I do not talk a lot. I barely talk. If anything, I am the quiet one in the orphanage. Marta always says I am too serious for my age, so I do not know where you are getting this idea that I—"

She stopped.

Her mouth was still open. Her face was bright red. Her eyes went wide as she realized what she had just done. She had been talking a lot without stopping and proving every single thing I had just said.

She slowly raised her hand and covered her mouth.

"...Oh."

I tried not to laugh. I really did. I bit the inside of my cheek and stared at the graves, but my shoulders were shaking.

"Shut up," she muttered.

"I didn’t say anything."

"Your face is saying it! If you laugh, I will kill you."

I took a deep breath and tried to control myself. "I also had an older sister," I added, trying to control my grin. "Our relationship was... peculiar. She loved me, but her way of showing it involved a lot of broken bones during training. Sisters are terrifying."

Mia laughed—a small, real sound that made the glade feel less like a graveyard.

"Leo... you aren’t forgetting something?"

I tilted my head. "What do you mean?"

She looked at me. "Why did you come looking for me?"

"Ah... Right!" I scratched the back of my neck. "I came to tell you I’m leaving. Tomorrow, or the day after."

"I know. Roran told everyone," she said, her voice softening. She looked at me with a fierce, sharp gaze. "Don’t you dare die out there. You’re my most interesting test subject. If you die, I will resurrect you just to kill you myself for being reckless."

I laughed. "That is... terrifying."

"It is meant to be."

"Was that a joke?"

She did not answer. But there was a small smile on her face. I felt a chill run down my spine.

"...It was a joke, right? Right?"

I decided to stop asking. Women are crazy, I thought. Note to self. Never get on the bad side of this girl.

"...Well," I said, standing up and stretching. "It is getting late. We should head back to the village. The kids are probably looking for you."

Mia stood up too. She brushed the grass off her dress and looked at the graves one last time. The moonlight caught her face.

"Goodbye," she whispered. "...I will come back soon."

She turned and started walking toward the path.

I followed her.

We walked in silence for a few minutes. The trees closed in around us, and the moonlight filtered through the leaves. The music from the village was louder now, closer. I could hear voices too, laughing and shouting.

And then we heard it.

A scream...

I stopped. My Flash Instinct flared, sharp and sudden, like a blade being drawn from its sheath. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

"Leo? What was that?" Mia grabbed my arm, her voice shaking.

I did not answer. I could feel something in the air. Something wrong and dark.

"Leo?" Mia’s voice was smaller now. "Leo, what is happening?"

"Stay behind me," I hissed, my hand flying to the hilt of Tempest.

The scream came again louder this time.

...And then the night exploded into chaos.