Morning dew still dripped from the tips of wisteria leaves as Anoby set foot once more in Rhumal Village. A thin mist cloaked the thatched rooftops, creating a stillness not unlike the day he first arrived—yet in the air lay a different beginning. He walked soundlessly through narrow alleys, following the trail of morning slime clinging to the cobblestones.
Hina had been waiting for him in front of a hut, seated on a half-open wooden plank. Her face was calm, but the redness of her eyes betrayed a flicker of worry. In her hand, she squeezed a single withered wisteria blossom. Anoby merely bowed his head, returning her gaze; the passage of time felt vague, as if months had passed, yet his memory remained hollow.
Hina rose and stepped closer, her voice soft but firm:
"How are you? You left without a word, then just vanished."
Anoby turned his face away, stifling the pounding of his heart. He simply shrugged one shoulder, as if to convey that everything was already etched within him. Without a word, he extended a small pouch containing dark-green moss and blood-red crystals—the fruits of his labor in the forest. Hina took it slowly, touching the moss's granules and staring at the crystal with wide eyes.
"Where did you… gather these?" Hina murmured. "That moss—Green Araklin—only grows in rocky crevices near the Dark River. And the crystal… you dared venture deep into the cave beneath the roots."
Anoby only nodded slowly. He did not wish to reopen old wounds that still lay frozen in his chest. In the silence scented with wisteria and moss, they stood side by side, two souls bound by the forest's secret.
Remnant of Light in the Old Hall
After handing the pouch to Hina, Anoby descended the path toward the small hall at the village's center. The wooden building had long been abandoned by the elders, though occasionally someone came to record the seasons. Now, its decayed wooden door hung half askew, but the dust on the threshold showed it had often been opened again.
Anoby slid the door open slowly—the creaking sound echoed, dispelling settled dust. Inside, dim light filtered through the gaps between planks, casting gentle beams across the floor. Ancient tables bore carvings of autumn leaves, and wooden shelves were filled with worn books and scroll after scroll of parchment. He walked to the hall's far end, where a carving of a great banyan tree was etched into the wall—an ancient symbol of Rhumal Village believed to hold the Remnant of Light.
Hina followed from behind, placing the pouch on the floor. She touched the banyan carving, her little finger trembling.
"They say the Remnant of Light is hidden within the heart of this banyan's roots. If you bring enough Green Araklin and Blood Crystal, we can reignite the sacred lantern that emits the Moonlight."
Anoby glanced at the shelves around him. A cluster of bronze candles was stacked in a corner, inscribed with ancient calligraphy: "Moonlight shines upon the heart worthy to bear the darkness." He drew a deep breath, then reached out to take the oldest bronze candle—its tip once melted and cracked. With hollow eyes, he imagined the potential of that light illuminating his ever-hidden gaze.
Passion in the Silent Hall
A short while later, Hina sat cross-legged before the banyan carving, while Anoby placed the green moss and red crystal into a wooden bowl atop a small table. He lit the bronze candle, its flame casting a pale glow that mingled with the dust in the air. One by one, he sprinkled the crystal granules, then neatly arranged the moss around them. Pine-scented and wisteria-laced smoke curled and seeped into the wooden walls.
— "Hina… have you ever seen Moonlight?" a question flickered through Anoby's mind, though his tongue froze.
Hina shifted her gaze to the candle's flame, which expanded in the grimy glass holder. "Only in legends," she replied softly. "They say, when Moonlight bathes the forest, the black leaves that bring death will vanish, and shadow beasts will no longer stalk it."
Her voice was muffled by the whisper of wind over the thatched roof. Anoby stared at the banyan carving, the oil of flowers streaming across the wood's surface. "If we can light the lantern… we'll awaken people's memories, make the forest feel less like a tomb."
Hina nodded, then rose slowly. She fetched a thin, small rug from a corner of the hall, spread it on the floor, and sat cross-legged in silence. "Begin," she whispered.
Anoby bowed his head, bringing his hands together over the bowl. Beneath the dim candlelight, he murmured an incantation—an ancient verse he had learned upon discovering a scroll in the hall. Word by word, he spoke softly, vibrations stirring the decayed wood. The red crystal glowed faintly, channeling a gentle light into the Green Araklin. The moss emitted a soft shimmer, as if bathed in blood-red moonlight. His mind shrieked: this was the dawn of the beacon he had sought.
With a single breath, the bronze lantern in his hands surged to life—pale light flooding the hall, piercing the cracks in the wood and reflecting off the banyan carving. The rustle of unseen things stilled; the shadows of leaves on the walls shifted as though bowing in reverence. Hina closed her eyes, holding back tears that welled.
Seasons Change, Steps Repeat
The Moonlight born that night not only drove darkness from the old hall but seeped through the village's cracks. Lanterns in wooden homes glowed brighter, and the scent of Green Araklin spread to every street. The awakened villagers grasped at vague memories; some looked at Anoby with a glimmer of gratitude, as if rising from a long slumber. Yet in that stillness, none truly understood who he was—only the whispered title "bearer of light" echoed.
Hina guided Anoby out of the hall as dawn began to creep in. The mist thinned, revealing rows of tea fields in the distance, now chased by the sun's rays. The first season was nearly over; sandalwood leaves were turning red, signaling the arrival of the cold month. Anoby walked along the village path, observing villagers busy plucking tea leaves—they glanced at him briefly, then returned to their daily rhythm. He inhaled the warm breeze, clasped the lantern in his hand, and realized his arduous journey had only just begun.
At the village's edge, beneath a shedding banyan tree, Hina gazed at Anoby tenderly. "We are half a step closer, but shadow beasts still roam upstream," she murmured, her breath warm in the cool air. "Our next step… entering the Dark Forest, where Moonlight first appeared."
Anoby inclined his head, his hair standing on end. "I understand."
Their eyes met in silence, each heart harboring unspoken questions: How far would they go before Memory guided them back?
Across the low meadow, the tea fields rippled like a green sea. Far away, beyond the hill, the Dark Forest awaited—dark, silent, bearing wounds yet to heal. Anoby lifted the lantern, its light reflecting along the stone path. He stepped resolutely into a new season, one that held both promise and threat intertwined.
The first season ended, and Anoby—bearer of eternal light—moved on to the next chapter, where shadows and memories would dance beneath a moon not yet fully shining.