The night air was crisp, carrying the gentle murmur of the waterfall in the distance. The three siblings sat together upon smooth, flat rocks, their feet submerged in the cool water, the ripples distorting their reflections beneath the starlit sky.
Ziraiah leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, before breaking the silence.
"So… are we just going to ignore the fact that Mom is from this world?"
A pause.
Valerius and Eryndor exchanged glances, the revelation still settling within them. The cool breeze swept through, tousling their jet-black hair, but none of them spoke immediately.
Valerius exhaled, breaking the tension.
"I wonder why she never told us."
His gaze remained fixed on the rippling water below.
"This must have been what she planned to reveal the day before we arrived here. She said we had some kind of impressive lineage… and now, I actually believe her."
Ziraiah raised an eyebrow, tilting her head toward him.
"So you didn't believe her before?"
Valerius hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line.
"It's not like that—"
Eryndor, reclining lazily against the flat rock with his hands folded behind his head, interjected smoothly.
"I do wonder whether Michael was aware."
Valerius snorted, a grin tugging at his lips. He turned to Ziraiah.
"Seriously, I don't know what kind of sorcery your dad pulled to end up with Mom."
Eryndor's voice remained calm, but there was a warning undertone as he spoke.
"Valerius."
Valerius raised his hands in mock surrender.
"What? You've thought about it too."
Ziraiah smirked, shrugging.
"He's not wrong. I wondered about it too. How did dad do it?"
Valerius chuckled, resting back against the rock.
"I feel bad for him, honestly. Putting up with us must have been horrible for his health. I wonder what face he made when he found out we disappeared."
That was the breaking point.
The siblings burst into laughter, their shared memories dissolving the weight of their predicament, even if only for a moment.
"Remember the time he almost had a heart attack when Val jumped off a cliff?"
Ziraiah grinned, nudging her brother.
Eryndor, even in his usual composure, allowed himself a soft chuckle.
"That was, indeed, hilarious."
They remained that way for a while, lying upon the rock, gazing at the sky, lost in nostalgia and disbelief.
"I always knew we weren't normal," Valerius murmured, hands folded beneath his head. "But to think we are an entirely different species… I would have never imagined that. I thought you and Mom just had some strange condition that made you huge."
Eryndor arched an eyebrow, his tone as refined as ever.
"If we do, then you most certainly possess it as well, dear brother."
Ziraiah exhaled, her gaze locked upon the twinkling expanse above them.
"Who would have imagined that Synelee would be some long-forgotten language?"
Valerius nodded in agreement.
"Looks like we're the only ones who can understand it."
Eryndor's voice was contemplative, his words deliberate, measured, and elegant.
"According to what the elf man revealed, our knowledge of Synelee may grant us access to ancient ruins—perhaps even unlock secrets that have remained untouched for centuries."
His tone sharpened slightly.
"However, we must ensure this knowledge remains a secret. If word spreads that we are capable of understanding Synelee, we shall not be viewed as individuals—but as tools to be exploited."
His green eyes reflected the stars as he continued.
"And I highly doubt those seeking to use us will be as kind as the people present here."
A somber silence settled between them.
Ziraiah broke it first, exhaling sharply.
"Now that I think about it… all those weird subjects Mom forced us to learn must have been connected to this place."
Valerius sat up slightly, rubbing his chin.
"Yeah, minerals that don't exist on Earth, yet she wrote entire books about them."
Ziraiah added, her voice laced with realization.
"And those strange animals and plants too."
Eryndor's voice remained calm, thoughtful.
"Perhaps… she knew we would arrive here one day."
They let that thought linger, their minds grasping at the threads of their mother's connection to Yilheim, yet unable to weave them into something complete.
As they gazed at the sky, lost in speculation, footsteps approached.
They turned their heads in unison.
A towering figure emerged from the shadows—a man 10 feet 6 inches tall, his brown skin illuminated under the moonlight. Massive blue wings folded neatly behind him, partially concealed beneath the scholar's coat he wore. A pair of thin-rimmed glasses rested upon his sharp nose, his demeanor poised and calculated.
He stopped a few paces away from them, his expression neutral, yet inquisitive.
"Excuse me, young ones."
His voice was smooth, scholarly, yet filled with quiet curiosity.
"Are you the Elvheins?"
The siblings sat up immediately, exchanging silent glances before turning their attention back to the man.
Eryndor's gaze was unwavering as he responded, his tone remaining as regal as ever.
"An introduction would be far more polite before engaging in inquiries upon first encounters."
The man blinked before inclining his head slightly, as if conceding the point.
"Pardon me. My name is Gefubin. I am a Hysor."
He then removed his coat, unfurling his majestic blue wings, displaying them in full.
Valerius whistled.
"Whoa… this guy's got wings."
Gefubin merely smiled before continuing.
"I am a historian, and I have devoted my life to studying the ancient tongue."
He glanced at the three siblings before asking, his voice tinged with both caution and intrigue.
"Might I sit beside you?"
Eryndor, ever calculating, narrowed his gaze slightly. Without a word, he focused on Gefubin and activated the Gauge System.
Two stars appeared above the Hysor's head.
A breath of relief left Eryndor's lips, though he did not let it show.
This man poses no immediate danger.
With a subtle nod, he gestured toward the open space beside them.
"You may proceed."
Gefubin returned his coat to his shoulders, concealing his wings once more, before lowering himself onto the rocks, his feet dipping into the water.
For a moment, he simply sat there, letting the silence stretch, as if measuring his words carefully.
Then, finally, he spoke.
"I have heard whispers… that you can understand the ancient tongue."
His gaze flickered between them.
"Would it be possible… to request your assistance with something?"
---
The Hidden Truth
Gefubin rose to his full height, his bare feet touching the cool stone floor. His deep, contemplative gaze lingered on the siblings before he spoke, his voice calm yet carrying a weight of unspoken knowledge.
"Come with me if you do not mind. There is something I wish to show you."
Without waiting for a response, he turned and began walking, his coat shifting lightly with each step.
The siblings exchanged glances before Eryndor, ever composed, made the decision.
"He does not appear to bear any hostility. Let us see what it is he wishes to reveal."
With that, they stood, the chill of the stone beneath their bare feet grounding them as they followed him through the hideout.
The path led them toward an entrance concealed within the mountain itself, a stone stairway descending into the depths. The flickering light from the torches along the walls illuminated their path as they descended.
Valerius, eyes darting around, let out a whistle. "This place has underground chambers too? How in the world did they carve all of this inside a mountain?"
The walls were smooth, perfectly chiseled, as if time itself had preserved them, untouched by decay. With each step, the torches along the walls ignited on their own, lighting the way before them.
They reached the bottom, standing before an immense door, its surface engraved with an intricate web of symbols and inscriptions. Gefubin placed his hand upon it, and with a low rumble, the door parted, revealing a vast chamber beyond.
Ziraiah took a step forward and gasped.
"Oh my god, it's huge."
The chamber stretched far beyond what they had expected, shelves upon shelves of books stacked to the ceiling, neatly arranged. Tables and chairs were scattered throughout, and in the center of the chamber stood a large stone, its surface etched with the same ancient inscriptions they had seen in Ignir.
Valerius took a step forward, recognition flashing across his features.
"Wait… isn't that the stone from before?"
Eryndor's gaze narrowed as he examined it.
"It most certainly is."
Gefubin stood behind them, his voice carrying a scholarly precision.
"Take a closer look."
They approached. The surface of the stone was cold beneath their fingers, its carved inscriptions smooth yet ancient, weathered by time and erosion. As Eryndor traced the symbols, his sharp eyes caught inconsistencies in the text—breaks where words should be, entire sections seemingly lost to history.
His mind worked quickly, sifting through the vast collection of knowledge their mother had instilled in them. A name surfaced from the depths of his memory.
"This stone… it is composed of Yeru."
His voice was thoughtful, yet laced with uncertainty.
Valerius frowned, looking up. "What's Yeru?"
Eryndor didn't take his eyes off the inscriptions. "A mineral mentioned in some of our mother's writings. It possesses properties unlike any known substance from Earth—strong, yet capable of absorbing energy. It is exceedingly rare."
Ziraiah hummed, running her fingers over the text. "Well, rare or not, this thing is barely readable. So many words are missing—how the hell are we supposed to figure out what it's saying?"
Valerius narrowed his eyes, frustration creeping into his tone. "Damn it… we can read the words, but it's useless if half of them aren't even here."
Gefubin, who had been standing silently behind them, studied their reactions carefully. His wings shifted slightly beneath his coat as he observed them, his expression unreadable.
"You recognize the stone?" he asked at last.
Ziraiah, still absorbed in her own frustration, nodded. "Yeah, it's Yeru."
Gefubin tilted his head slightly. "Yeru? That mineral is known as Helaid."
Eryndor's gaze sharpened. Then… Yeru must be its name in Synelee.
But that was not his main concern.
The real problem was that the stone was incomplete.
At least a third of the script had been worn away over time. The message was fractured, leaving them with scattered phrases and unfinished sentences.
And yet… the pieces they could read were enough to suggest something important had been recorded here.
Eryndor narrowed his eyes, his fingers gliding lightly over the carvings as he began translating aloud.
"'In the days when sky bled fire, all rose against one...'"
He paused. "This next part is heavily damaged."
His eyes moved farther down the stone. "'He who trespassed the Veil... could not be slain... was bound... beneath the stars...'"
Another long pause. The stone was deeply scarred here.
"'The Seed... concealed in exile...'
'...the seed of the abomination shall awaken...'
'...and when the Seed awakens, the gods shall—'"
He stopped.
The final line was cut off entirely. The stone chipped, the inscription lost.
Valerius stepped forward, his brows furrowed.
"That's it?"
He brushed his hand across the broken edge, jaw tightening.
"The one part that matters… and it's gone."
His voice sharpened. "What were the gods going to do? Fall? Flee? Burn? Why even carve this into stone if it just… ends?!"
Ziraiah flinched slightly at the force behind his words.
Without thinking, the three of them switched to English.
Ziraiah muttered, "Should we tell him that we can't read the full message?"
Valerius folded his arms, his tone low and bitter. "I don't know… what if he thinks we're lying?"
Eryndor's gaze flickered to Gefubin, who remained still, expression unreadable, though his eyes betrayed a spark of interest.
Ziraiah lowered her voice further. "It's not like we can make up something. He's probably studied this thing longer than we've been alive—if we say anything suspicious, he'll know."
Valerius exhaled sharply, his frustration still simmering. "I just want to know what this damn thing is saying… why would someone carve something this important into stone and let it get ruined?"
Ziraiah crossed her arms. "If it were easy, I doubt it would have been left here for us to find."
Eryndor remained quiet for a long moment before finally sighing, turning back toward Gefubin.
They had no choice—they had to tell him the truth, at least partially.
Eryndor clasped his hands behind his back, his posture poised, his voice the epitome of refinement.
"The inscriptions are… fragmented." His tone was calm, professional. "Time has not been kind to this artifact. While we are able to discern the script, the loss of words makes full comprehension impossible. What remains is a series of disjointed passages, lacking the crucial context needed to understand its meaning in full."
Gefubin's gaze narrowed slightly, studying him. "So you can read it… but you do not fully understand it?"
Eryndor inclined his head slightly, maintaining his composed demeanor. "Knowledge without context is but a whisper of truth, Scholar Gefubin. Without the missing words, what we see is merely a shadow of what was intended."
Gefubin was silent for a moment, considering his words.
Then, slowly, he smiled.
"Fascinating," he murmured.
The siblings exchanged brief, wary glances. That wasn't the reaction they expected.
Eryndor resisted the urge to sigh. For now, they had avoided suspicion. But this conversation wasn't over.
And something told him that Gefubin wasn't finished asking questions.
To Be Continued...