Deep in the forest,

  past the point where the entrance could no longer be seen,

  there was a spring.

  At its center stood a large fountain,

  carved from polished white stone.

  Around it, the same stone formed a perfect, tiered circle—just high enough to sit on.

  Not a single leaf.

  Not a trace of moss.

  It looked as though someone had tended it

  only moments ago.

  For a while,

  the three of them forgot to speak,

  looking up at the clear water

  overflowing from a sculpture of spirits, their goblets raised to the sky.

  TT stepped forward first.

  He let out a small sound of admiration

  and began to circle the fountain slowly,

  studying it from every angle.

  Crys moved closer,

  knelt at the edge,

  and peered into the water.

  Mixed with the falling spray,

  tiny bubbles rose

  from the sand at the bottom.

  He realized—

  this was the river’s source.

  Suguri knelt beside him,

  both knees on the stone,

  leaning in to look.

  “Such clear water.

  Do you think we can drink it?”

  “You probably can.

  It’s a spring.”

  When TT bent down, leaning closer,

  Suguri lifted a hand to stop him.

  “You shouldn’t underestimate river water.

  There could be viruses, bacteria,

  even parasites.”

  Seeing Lesamin hop down from her arm

  and begin to drink,

  she added,

  “And animal fur gets in as well.”

  “You may drink without concern.”

  The voice echoed,

  as if from within a cavern.

  All three turned at once.

  A tall woman,

  her long, wavy hair flowing to her waist,

  glowed softly in gold

  as she emerged from the veil of the fountain.

  Beside her stood a doe,

  also shining gold.

  That wasn’t all.

  From among the great trees

  and low thickets,

  animals of every size appeared.

  Birds leaned out from the branches.

  Every creature—

  every living thing—

  glowed the same gold,

  and the clearing filled with light,

  brighter than sunlight through leaves.

  Among them were creatures that stood on two legs:

  a polar bear,

  a massive moose with wide antlers,

  a lion with a magnificent mane.

  Overwhelmed,

  Crys stepped back,

  his right hand slipping into the spring.

  “Whoa—!

  Cold!

  The worst!

  I’m soaked!”

  “Ad. Calm down.”

  Seeing no fear at all in TT’s eyes, even faced with such beasts,

  Crys steadied himself.

  He nodded

  and pulled his heavy, wet sleeve from the water.

  Suguri couldn’t hide her excitement

  at the polar bear and lion so close by,

  but her voice trembled slightly as she asked,

  “They won’t suddenly attack, right?”

  “They are Nahal.

  If their forms seem threatening,

  we can have them change.”

  “No, it’s fine.

  You’re very handsome.”

  The lion,

  praised by Suguri,

  let out a rumble like a cat’s purr

  and rubbed its forehead against her,

  asking to be petted.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  “Am I changing properly?”

  Instead of a growl,

  a young girl’s voice came from the lion.

  By now,

  Crys was past being surprised

  by animals speaking—

  but the mismatch

  between the lion’s appearance

  and its voice

  felt strangely off.

  Reassured by the word Guide,

  and with her curiosity returning,

  Suguri stepped closer without hesitation

  and shook the lion’s mane with both hands.

  “So you’re a girl.

  You have a mane,

  so I thought you were a boy.”

  “Nahal have no gender.

  But for this one,

  a human girl is likely closest

  to the shape of her soul.

  Isn’t that right, Rabia?”

  The woman smiled at the lion,

  clearly fond,

  then turned her gaze to Suguri.

  “You are this year’s Talmid.”

  “That’s right.

  I’m Shu.

  The honors student over there,

  smiling like he’s up to something,

  is Theo.

  And this one—

  overthinks everything

  and is a little clumsy—

  is Crys.

  His sleeve’s wet.

  Dry it for him.”

  “Truly,

  you could manage Yatsar yourselves.

  But of course—

  it’s no trouble at all.”

  The woman raised her palm

  and blew softly.

  Her breath shimmered

  a pale green,

  like new leaves,

  and spun around Crys’s sleeve.

  He shook his arm hard,

  as if to fling it away,

  but the wind stayed.

  It wasn’t warm like a dryer,

  yet the darkened fabric

  dried quickly,

  before his eyes.

  When the wind finally let go,

  the sleeve was back to its original gray.

  It felt better, no longer clinging.

  Still,

  having magic used on him

  without being asked

  left Crys irritated.

  He didn’t say thank you.

  “I am Kadeshara.

  Nagid of the Nahal of Adom Yekitza—

  leader of the Guides.

  Why have you come here?”

  “We heard that if you go into the forest,

  you can meet Nahal in animal form.

  I like animals, so I wanted to see them.

  As for the two next to me—”

  Suguri trailed off, blinking,

  as if only now wondering why.

  TT answered for her.

  “We heard from Rav Valancourt

  that there’s a dragon beyond this forest.

  Do you know of it?”

  “Of course.”

  Kadeshara replied,

  then lifted one slender arm,

  as though it might snap.

  “If you continue through this forest,

  you’ll reach the edge of the island.

  From the forest’s exit,

  you’ll see a cave running along the rim.

  Deep within it dwells Tanin Evenyakara—

  the Dracon Adom called Adama.”

  Adama.

  Just hearing the name

  made it feel real.

  Crys’s chest quickened—

  he wanted to see it now.

  Yet another tension tightened.

  He clutched the front of his hoodie

  and asked,

  “Um—

  dragons aren’t dangerous, are they?

  If there’s anything we should watch out for,

  I’d like to know.”

  “In Chutz, people project many images onto Dracon.”

  Kadeshara sounded amused—

  by the wish to see,

  despite the fear.

  “Adama is true to the name—unshaken as the earth itself.

  And she nears her molt,

  so she lies still

  at the deepest point of the cave.

  Even if you approach,

  she will not move.”

  “How is the path to the deepest point?”

  TT asked.

  “The cave is a gemstone lode.

  Rofeh of Adom Yekitza,

  and those of Yarekruah,

  often gather there.

  The way is level,

  but the depths are dark—

  you must be able

  to call light with Yatsar.”

  “I’m going too!”

  Suguri clapped,

  cheeks flushed.

  Crys seized the opening.

  “Girls like dragons too?”

  “I’ve never touched one—yet.

  If it’s resting so deeply it won’t move,

  a little touch wouldn’t make it angry.

  I wonder how it feels.”

  Yet, huh.

  If she had,

  that would be the surprise.

  She was probably imagining

  more than touching—

  nuzzling,

  maybe even a kiss.

  Suguri pressed her cheeks,

  eyes gone soft,

  as if tasting something sweet.

  Crys snorted.

  TT watched the exchange,

  holding back a smile—

  then remembered something,

  and turned serious,

  eyes returning to Kadeshara.

  “One more thing, if I may.”

  Kadeshara let her long, golden hair sway,

  granting permission.

  TT gestured to Crys.

  “It is Yom Reshit, yet he has no Nahal.

  Do you know why

  no Nahal came to him?”

  “Yom Reshit

  unvisited by a Nahal?

  That cannot be—”

  Kadeshara fixed her gold-rimmed eyes on Crys,

  then blinked slowly,

  as if seeing him

  for the first time.

  “Rofeh ascend from Adom Yekitza to Zahav He’ela

  to heighten their divinity.

  Nahal, as spiritual beings,

  descend from Zahav He’ela

  to Adom Yekitza

  to acclimate to life in Chutz.

  Tsek and Lesamin—

  whom you brought—

  were here until a month ago.

  I know them well.

  I also know

  which Nahal attends which Talmid.

  As many as are chosen, so too are sent—

  eleven to each Tseva.

  Seventy-seven in all.”

  Her gaze seemed to pass

  not only over his body,

  but into him.

  Uneasy,

  Crys clenched his hoodie.

  “And yet—

  you indeed have no Nahal.”

  “What could that mean?”

  TT asked for him.

  “There is no precedent.

  Perhaps the Nahal hesitated,

  or abandoned the role.

  But then,

  a Talmid with no contact

  should not be able

  to reach Emet Echad Olam.

  It is unlikely,

  but there is another possibility:

  that you are the seventy-eighth Talmid,

  guided by a Nahal of another Rifar—

  or by a higher being still.”

  Something clicked.

  TT leaned forward.

  “Do you know

  how Rofeh are chosen?”

  “We call it Makor Gadol—

  the Great Source,

  home of the Nahal,

  origin of all creation.

  The Sedel Gadol receives its will.

  The Sedel then selects

  those fit within the Hall of Records.

  After deliberation,

  the number is narrowed to seventy-seven.

  —At present, I oversee this.

  Then the Nagid of Adom Yekitza

  chooses a Nahal

  suited to each Rifar’s nature.”

  “Is it possible,”

  TT asked,

  “for the Sedel Gadol—

  or a single Sedel—

  to summon a Rifar

  without the others knowing?

  Without telling you?”

  “Not impossible.

  But if one wished to recommend so strongly,

  it would be simpler

  to persuade the council.”

  “Thank you for your time.”

  TT bowed,

  ready to end it.

  “W—wait!”

  Crys stopped him

  and turned to Kadeshara.

  “Not just today—since the new moon,

  when guides are said to come—

  he’s been gone.

  But about half a year ago,

  I saw someone just like me.

  The person with him said

  he was my Guide.

  So he exists—probably.

  Do you know where he is now?”

  The words spilled out.

  At the edge of his vision,

  TT pressed a hand to his head.

  Too much, he knew—

  too late.

  Kadeshara’s gentle gaze sharpened.

  “Who

  called him a Nahal?”

  “Um—well—”

  Crys looked to TT for help.

  Hands on his hips,

  TT looked exasperated—

  then met his eyes,

  and nodded.

  Say it.

  Lie or truth—

  we’ll align.

  Crys chose a half-truth.

  “A Guide named Baar was with him.”

  “Barneri—”

  Kadeshara’s eyes widened,

  gold fixed on Crys.

  Her lips moved,

  but no sound came.

  The fact that Baar—who had accompanied Tsitsi—had entered a Rofeh’s inner chamber

  was enough to unsettle even the leader of the Guides.

  Only now did Crys grasp the weight of it.

  There was no way

  he could mention Tsitsi.

  “Half a year ago—

  before Rofeh were chosen.

  And yet—

  the fact that there was already a Nahal like you—and that even Barneri had come—can only mean…

  Where did you meet?

  Were you told by Barneri—

  that you were Noseh ha-Olam?”

  Crys flinched at the word Noseh.

  He was about to say no—

  to keep the promise he’d made to Soliorbis—

  but TT spoke first.

  “Nagid Kadeshara,

  what is a Noseh?

  It may have been a mistake,

  but others have called him a Noseh as well.”

  Kadeshara did not answer.

  She fell silent,

  her gaze resting on Crys.

  TT followed her gaze.

  When he was at a loss,

  Crys always did the same thing—

  he looked away,

  a hand slipping to the back of his neck.

  The leaves rustled in the wind.

  Water murmured in the fountain.

  And cutting through it all,

  Suguri’s voice—

  a soft, rhythmic ‘there, there’—

  as she stroked a Guide,

  sounded far too loud.

  Kadeshara blinked once.

  She smiled,

  then turned her eyes to TT,

  speaking as she gently stroked the doe

  pressing close to her legs.

  “A Noseh is one who appears

  when the world faces great change.

  In Chutz,

  where the laws differ from Emet Echad Olam,

  Yatsar cannot be used.

  But those called Noseh

  can give form to thought

  in Chutz as well,

  just as they do in Emet Echad Olam.

  If a Rofeh is a stone thrown to change the world,

  then a Noseh

  is one who can change it directly.”

  “So… you can use magic in Chutz?”

  Suguri asked,

  springing up like a rabbit that had caught a sound.

  “And to what extent

  does thought take form?”

  TT asked.

  “Everything that is thought,”

  Kadeshara said.

  “Long ago, some of those called witches or shamans in Chutz were Noseh.

  They lit fires,

  called rain,

  healed the sick.

  Today,

  those same results

  can be achieved by anyone,

  and shared by all.

  As for the most recent Noseh—

  they used that power

  to prevent the world

  from splitting apart once more.

  A Noseh creates the miracle

  their age requires,

  and lays the foundation

  for the future of humankind.”

  Suguri listened, mouth slightly open, then said, sounding genuinely impressed,

  “You’re amazing.”

  “No way.

  It was a mistake—TT said so himself.”

  Crys replied, glancing at him for backup.

  TT had a finger to his lips,

  deep in thought.

  “TT?”

  At his name,

  TT looked up,

  plastering on an awkward smile.

  “Him? A Noseh?

  That can’t be.

  He’s twisted.

  Sulky.

  Always a little crooked.

  A guy like that—changing the world?

  Impossible.”

  “Hey—

  you’re not saying

  that’s what you usually think of me,

  right?”

  It was too accurate to be improvised.

  Crys felt drained.

  TT didn’t answer.

  He only lifted one corner of his mouth—just slightly.

  Then, as if nothing had happened,

  he smoothed it back

  into the look of a well-bred gentleman,

  and bowed to Kadeshara.