I crossed the veil separating worlds, feeling a current of warmth seep into me, as if the new world was examining me, testing me, before granting me entry. The passage was not as violent as before; rather, it felt as though I had slipped quietly into this place, as if I had not chosen to enter but had been summoned.
Ilthar.
The moment my feet touched the ground, I sensed the difference. The air was thick with the scent of wildflowers and damp earth—unlike the arid harshness of Ilaria or the cold inertia of Nirvana. This world was alive, pulsing with a rhythm of its own—not loud, yet not entirely silent either.
The trees stretched high, their massive trunks intertwined like natural fortresses, their dense leaves reflecting sunlight in a deep emerald glow, casting shifting shadows over the smooth stone-paved paths. Everywhere, nature and humanity were interwoven in ways I had never seen before—the buildings were not separate from the land, but extensions of it, sculpted from wood and stone, merging seamlessly with tangled roots and sprawling branches.
But what truly stood out… was the people.
Women dominated here—not just in numbers but in authority. In the markets, the plazas, the guards, the government—every significant role was in their hands. The men, on the other hand, were less visible, more like shadows moving in the background—not consulted, not regarded as influential, merely peripheral figures in a world ruled by women.
This was a world unlike anything I had ever known.
Then, I heard the drums.
Their rhythm was steady, deep pulses reverberating through the air, accompanied by the soft beat of horse hooves and synchronized footfalls. A procession moved through the main road, and everyone in the city bowed in respect as it passed.
I lifted my gaze toward the heart of the procession, and there… I saw her.
Lilin.
She wasn't at the very front, yet she was not following anyone either. She walked among the guards, not just as a leader, but as a symbol of this world. She wore no crown, no heavy armor to declare her authority, and yet, there was no doubt that she was the one who ruled here.
Her long black hair cascaded down her back in two meticulously woven braids. Her features were sharp, precise—not harsh, but leaving no room for weakness. Her skin was unscarred, smooth, but her eyes—eyes the color of the sea before a storm—held a weight that could not be ignored, as if they had witnessed things others could never imagine.
Her attire was practical, neither regal nor simple, but something in between. A fitted black leather cuirass adorned with silver embroidery wrapped around her body, flexible yet protective, while a long cloak flowed behind her, adding an air of mystery. At her waist rested a finely carved dagger, though it was not her primary weapon.
The true weapon… was the bow.
It was strapped across her back, its handle peeking over her shoulder, as if it were a part of her. It was no mere piece of curved wood but something almost alive. The material was not ordinary—rather, it seemed as if it had grown into this form, fused impossibly with metal. At its core, where the grip met, a dark gemstone pulsed faintly—not bright, but disturbingly familiar.
A part of me.
She didn't know it. She had no idea that the power sealed within that bow wasn't just ancient energy but a fragment of something far greater, something stolen from me long ago. To her, this bow was a family heirloom, a weapon passed down through generations, carrying with it old legends and stories. But she didn't know—it had never truly belonged to her.
I watched the procession in silence, keeping my head low, avoiding attention. It wasn't time yet.
And yet… even though I had not acted recklessly, even though I had kept my distance…
I felt something strange.
A moment…
Had the drums stopped?
Slowly, I lifted my gaze, as if the air had grown heavier for a brief instant. Nothing had visibly changed—people still bowed in reverence, soldiers still marched in perfect sync.
But I saw something else.
Lilin… had stopped.
She didn't turn to look at me outright. She didn't snap her head in my direction, nor did her eyebrows lift in surprise. But for the briefest of moments—she paused.
I didn't know if it was mere coincidence. Perhaps she had felt something strange. Perhaps the air had shifted. Perhaps it was just instinct.
But I knew that feeling all too well.