The next morning felt colder than usual.
Not the weather—the air.
Like the world was holding its breath.
Quntuam walked to the river again. Same spot. Same trees. Same rippling sound of the water brushing the rocks. But his gut told him something was different.
He wasn't here to train today. Not really.
He was here to check.
He stood by the edge, looking across the stream, eyes sharp. The water didn't swirl today. No dancing. No shimmer. It felt still, waiting. Just like him.
Then, he saw it.
A footprint. Half-covered in mud, just behind a tree across the water.
He stepped back.
That print was fresh.
And it wasn't his.
"Who's there?" Quntuam called out. His voice cracked a little. First time he spoke out loud to someone who might not even answer.
Silence.
He turned, ready to walk away, when a soft voice drifted from behind the tree.
"You're not very careful for someone who should be hiding."
Quntuam froze.
A figure stepped out. Cloaked. Hood low over their face. But the voice? Young. Calm. Not scared, not angry—just curious.
"Who are you?" Quntuam asked.
"I could ask you the same," the figure said, walking closer. "But I already know."
Quntuam's fists tightened. "You followed me?"
"No," they said, stopping a few feet away. "I felt you."
The wind blew between them. Leaves whispered, but no birds sang.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Quntuam said.
The figure chuckled. "Yes, you do. Fire listens to you. Stones move. Water dances. That's not magic. That's not luck."
They pulled their hood back.
A girl. Maybe fifteen. Pale eyes, sharp like they saw more than they should. Hair tied back, messy and wild. But her presence was calm—like someone who'd spent her whole life running… and watching.
"You're an Alchemist," she said, like it was just a fact. "And that's dangerous."
Quntuam didn't move.
"I don't want trouble," he said.
"Too late."
The girl looked up at the sky, then back at him.
"You need to leave this village. They don't know yet—but when they find out, they will come for you. Werewolves, Vampires, even the humans. They all agreed—no more Alchemists."
Quntuam swallowed hard. His hands felt cold now.
"Why tell me?"
She hesitated. "Because I'm not one of them. And because once… someone saved me."
She dropped something at his feet. A small stone, glowing faint red.
"You've got power. But no control. You'll need both to survive."
Then she turned to leave.
"What's your name?" Quntuam called after her.
She didn't stop walking.
"Call me Lune."
And with that, she vanished into the trees.
Quntuam picked up the glowing stone, heart racing.
Things just got real.
And now... the journey truly begins.