tears slid down his cheeks.
The stream flowed as it always had.
Mist drifted between the trees.
Nothing had changed.
And yet, to Sunri,
the forest was no longer unfamiliar.
Every shadow might hide a memory of flight.
Every beast?cry might carry the weight of generations.
Compared to what the Mist?horned beasts had endured—
hunted, driven from their lands,
forced into a cold pact with their natural enemy,
watching companions fall one by one,
unable to save them—
his own quiet, lonely life,
and the confusion of searching for Lunelle,
felt small.
“Papa?”
Pardy tugged at his trousers, lips pressed together.
The child seemed to sense the tremor in his father’s emotions.
Sunri knelt and pulled him close,
burying his face in the softness of Pardy’s hair.
“Papa’s fine,” he whispered, voice tight.
“I just… saw something sad.”
Pardy stayed still in his arms,
patting Sunri’s back with clumsy warmth.
Something shifted inside Sunri.
He finally understood—
Lunelle scattering herself across worlds
was not abandonment.
It was responsibility.
A burden he still could not fully grasp.
And his journey to find her
might be the path toward understanding that burden—
and this world.
He felt closer to her.
Not in distance,
but in alignment—
as if something inside him had finally clicked into place.
The pendant at his neck warmed.
Fine golden lines surfaced on its dark red shell,
as though a seal had loosened.
A gentle force flowed from the pendant into him,
weaving with the energy of the sun?mark on his palm.
Not strength—
recognition.
As if he had passed an unseen trial
and recovered a shard of Lunelle’s memory
left in this world.
Pardy slipped from his arms
and pressed a small hand to the burning mark.
The heat softened instantly,
replaced by a gentle warmth—
like moonlight brushing the skin.
“Mama,” Pardy said,
with the quiet certainty only a child could have.
Sunri smiled, kneeling to meet his eyes.
“Pardy… can you see Mama?”
He gestured around them.
Pardy tilted his head, searching for words.
Then he pointed to his own chest,
to Sunri’s chest,
and finally toward the deepest part of the forest,
where the mist was thickest.
“Here… Mama. There… Mama.”
A tremor ran through Sunri’s heart.
Could it be—
that gathering these memory shards,
understanding the suffering and beauty of each world,
witnessing the struggle and coexistence of its lives—
would bring Lunelle back to him?
Not her body—
but her presence,
her will,
her imprint—
slowly becoming whole again
within him and their child.
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Qingyin had been watching quietly.
She stepped closer.
“You… aren’t from this world, are you?”
Sunri hesitated,
then nodded.
There was no reason to hide it.
Her help and honesty deserved the same in return.
“Your purpose here?”
“To find my wife,” Sunri said, gripping the pendant.
“And to find… answers.
Why she left.
What these worlds are.
Why my son is different.”
He looked at Qingyin.
“Does that sound insane to you?”
Qingyin smiled—
a clarity beyond her years.
“My master once said the world is like a forest—
many layers,
many hidden paths.
Some people are born able to walk between them.”
She paused.
“When you leave… will you shine the way you did when you arrived?”
Sunri blinked, then nodded.
“Then that’s enough,” she said.
“Seeing is believing.
Understanding… takes time.”
Night settled slowly.
The Riftbeast kept watch at the perimeter,
its silver stripes pulsing like slow breaths,
forming a natural barrier.
The Mist?horned herd rested nearby.
A few curious calves approached Pardy,
touching his hands with damp noses,
chirping softly.
Pardy giggled,
stroking their soft fur with careful fingers.
Qingyin cleaned the cut on her cheek with fresh water—
shallow,
but destined to leave a faint scar.
Sunri checked Pardy over.
Aside from dirt and leaves on his clothes,
the child was unharmed—
even healthier than when they first entered the Mistwood.
“We can rest here tonight,” Qingyin said.
“With the Mist?horned beasts and the Riftbeast nearby,
this is the safest place in the forest.
And…”
She looked at the horn fragment in her hand,
her expression complicated.
“My task is complete.
I can end my training early.”
Sunri nodded gratefully.
Pardy had already fallen asleep in his arms,
tiny fingers still gripping his father’s collar.
Qingyin lit a small fire,
shielding it with water?control
to keep it from catching the dry leaves.
The flames pushed back the night’s chill—
and the unease.
Firelight flickered,
casting shifting shadows across their faces.
“Your wife,” Qingyin said suddenly,
eyes on the flames.
“What kind of person was she?”
Sunri was silent for a long time.
The firelight danced,
and in it he seemed to see Lunelle’s outline.
“Quiet.
Mysterious.
She could speak with her eyes—
not metaphorically.
When she looked at you,
you could almost hear what she wanted to say.
She could make a broken clay pot bloom again.
She could draw star maps on a dirt wall
that glowed under moonlight.”
His voice softened.
“But she never spoke of her past.
Never said where she came from
or why she appeared in our little village.
I never asked.
Those three years…
felt like a dream too beautiful to be real.”
“Why did she leave?”
“I don’t know.”
Sunri tightened his grip on the pendant,
knuckles white.
“One morning, I woke up
and she was gone.
She left only this pendant,
Pardy sleeping in the cradle,
and a line of charcoal on the wall:
‘Follow the light.’”
Qingyin fell silent.
She remembered another teaching from her master—
Some people are destined to walk between worlds.
They are the thread that mends fractures,
the rope that bridges broken paths,
the hand that soothes old wounds.
Their road is lonely and long,
but each step makes something whole.
Perhaps this quiet, awkward man
was one of them.
Late into the night,
Sunri woke to a burning pain in his palm.
The gesture said, without words: Alright, stop pretending.
Author:
“…I wasn’t crying. Really. Just… dust.”
A black cat leapt onto the table, tail flicking.
“Dust? That sniff you made shook the whole forest.”
Author:
“…My eyes were itchy.
You two don’t get to team up against me.”
Pardy blinked and patted me again.
The cat yawned.
I decided to shut up.
— Quick poll —
What do you think of her?”
- Like her
- Don’t like her
- Still observing