🌒 ARC12: Before the Source

The place we reached was too quiet.

The wind had stopped, and sound seemed to be swallowed whole. There were no scattered ruins, no scorch marks. Though it should have been an extension of the battlefield, this place alone felt cut out, floating apart from the world.

The ground beneath my feet was strangely hard. Even when I pressed down, no echo returned.

…This is it.

A feeling close to certainty settled in. There was no proof. Just something deep inside my body insisting so.

The sensation of being worn away, felt every time magic was used. The parts that never returned, no matter how much healing was applied on the battlefield. It felt as though all of that had been drawn toward this place.

I looked around.

It resembled the remains of some structure, yet it clearly wasn’t made by human hands. The shapes defied logic. No straight lines. No angles. Simply looking at it caused my thoughts to slip, just slightly.

The moment I touched something like a wall, my fingertips turned painfully cold.

—Don’t come.

It wasn’t a sound. It wasn’t words. And yet, a clear rejection flowed straight into me.

My feet stopped, just for a moment.

It wasn’t fear. Not intimidation either. It was simply being told, “Do not know.”

I steadied my breath and tried to take another step—when something flickered at the edge of my vision.

…Footprints?

Faint marks left on the ground. Fresh. Not mine.

Someone had been here before me.

A chill slid through my chest. At the same time, my certainty deepened.

This place is forbidden. And still, someone stepped inside.

From beyond the wall, a faint echo reached me. Traces of magic being used. But not controlled—just power slammed down, rough and careless.

—Did they fail?
Or were they stopped halfway?

The moment I tried to think further, a sharp pain struck the back of my head. As if the thought itself were being pushed away.

Stopping here was not allowed. Advancing was not allowed either.

Only one option remained.

“...So I have to turn back.”

Frustration seeped into my throat. And yet, I understood.

I wasn’t ready. Not in knowledge. Not in resolve.

This wasn’t the end. It wasn’t even an entrance.
It was the place before the place that leads to one.

As I turned on my heel, the air behind me shifted slightly. As if the gaze observing me had been withdrawn.

One step away. Then another.

The sense of rejection slowly faded.

But there was no going back anymore.

The source exists. And there are conditions required to reach it.

Approach without meeting them, and what is taken won’t be just life.

What did the one who left those footprints see? What did they lose? Unless I pursue that answer, this war will repeat itself in the same shape.

The presence of the battlefield returns behind me. A place my companions are holding. A place that still stands.

The reasons to stop had all been cleanly erased.

I begin to walk.

Next time, I will come prepared. Knowing what must be known. Carrying a form with which to resist.

This is not the end.

Why was magic given to humans?
Why does it take from them?

The journey to claim that question begins here.

— Lumi🪄💕