Sun's rays filtered through the clouds, casting intermittent light on ancient cobblestone streets lined with crumbling stone buildings. At first glance, the place seemed deserted. Yet, if one listened closely, the laughter of children, the cries of animals, and faint strains of music could be heard.
In the remnants of an isolated village, nestled deep within towering mountains, the air was so cold that frost rose with each breath. A young boy with pointed ears braved the freezing temperatures, training with a makeshift dummy. Sunlight glinting off his long silver hair dazzled any observer, lending him an almost divine aura.
Only a single path led beyond the walls. Though worn, the fortifications were thick and tall, offering a sense of security.
A shadow moved through the midday chill and entered one of the houses, letting the warmth of the interior spill outward. The village showed no signs of wealth, and its residents lived there from necessity rather than choice.
Inside, a twenty-one-year-old woman with chestnut hair and hazel eyes sat quietly. The man who had entered set food and drink before her. He had black hair and a gentle, sky-blue gaze.
A year earlier, the young woman had arrived in the village with her child, both weakened by their journey. Though their appearances were different, their soft features betrayed their bond.
They had been welcomed warmly, given food and shelter. No one knew where they had come from or their story, but it mattered little. This village was known to only a few; reaching it was an accomplishment in itself.
The young man who had found them was an excellent healer. He did everything he could to care for them, yet the woman remained wary and distrustful. She avoided eye contact and recoiled from physical touch. Her son was equally protective of her, as she of him.
He had to earn their trust.
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Each day, he brought them food and ensured they stayed warm. He offered to show them the village and to help the boy train.
Gradually, Cerena and he grew closer, both physically and emotionally. Fragile yet resilient, she impressed him with her determination to protect her son. She observed more than she spoke, but words were unnecessary — the hardships she had endured were written in her eyes.
She had never known anyone so attentive. Even after their immediate needs had been met, he continued to watch over them.
Beside him, Cerena finally felt acceptance and peace. She softened over time, and their friendship blossomed into an intimate relationship.
Their bond, already strong after several weeks, grew more certain with each passing day. After sitting down beside her, he watched her for a moment, a knowing smile on his lips, then kissed her tenderly.
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Totally isolated from the outside world, the villagers relied solely on themselves for survival. Their diet consisted of hardy fruits and vegetables, supplemented by hunting and raising goats and buffalo.
Cerena and Owen, accustomed to life in a palace with servants, knew nothing of such hardships and had to learn how to contribute to village life.
Yet they never complained. They never regretted their past life and quickly adapted, absorbing all that was taught.
Observing Owen, the young man noted how rapidly he was growing, giving him the impression of being older than he really was — too old compared to his mother's youth.
Each day, Owen trained tirelessly. Occasionally, the young man assisted him: even as a healer, he was still skilled in combat.
The boy’s unusual features and endurance made him remarkable. Since their arrival, he had never let his guard down, fearing something may happen.
From their first meeting, the young man had been intrigued by a strange presence in his own mind—not hostile, yet he had the feeling that Owen was somehow connected to it.
Here, every resident kept secrets; it was something as common as snow falling from the sky.
Owen watched over the young man his mother had grown fond of, ensuring that trust was never betrayed.
