Haugstad, Kingdom of Divinium, Eastern region of Rohana Federation, 2035 S.C. 293rd day

  "Are you saying that you have activated four crystals?" Adel’s question lingered in the air.

  Haran hesitated. The silence in the room stretched out of comfort.

  "No," he said at last. "That is to say, I’ve never used a crystal on myself. Our research focused on channeling the power of crystals through catalysts, much like how cities use them now. I’m certain the church has tried the same. But they must have learned, as we did, that catalysts can only channel the powders of tainted crystals. And even then, their effects are temporary. Soul crystals, on the other hand, could endure for as long as the world itself. I’m convinced the light within them is tethered to the very essence of our world."

  "What were you trying to do?" Adel asked.

  "Foolishness, Adel. Utter foolishness. We sought to channel the power of four elements. Our goal was to replicate the creation of a floating island. There’s an old tale about how cities came to float in the sky. They say earth, fire, water, and air formed circles, and from the barren land below, particles rose to meet them. Together, they birthed the floating islands. But these aren’t official records. Everything we knew came from fragments buried in the church’s archives."

  Adel leaned forward. "What happened during the test, Haran?"

  "I don’t know," Haran desperately sighed. "I remember nothing of what occurred. When I woke, the catalysts had shattered, their remnants scattered like ash. Four soul crystals were gone." He paused, his jaw tightening as he forced himself to continue. "And Loretta..." His voice cracked. "She was dead. Burned, likely by the red crystal. She had been standing near the staff with its catalyst."

  Adel’s expression changed. He looked at Haran with a rigid look. "Haran, are you a fugitive from the church? If you are, we will have no choice but to turn you over to them. That’s not something I can compromise on."

  "I’m not," Haran said firmly. He lifted his cup and took a long sip of the mead. "Loretta and I weren’t the only ones part of the experiment. There were others. And under threats of retaliation, I fled with my son."

  "I have to question your fatherhood, Haran," Adel said. "From the moment you awoke here, your every thought has been for your son’s safety. Your first words were a plea for his life. Yet, by your actions, you nearly left him an orphan."

  "I know," Haran yelled, slamming his fist against the table. The sudden noise startled Heron awake, and he started to cry. Haran rose on his feet, crossing to the cradle to scoop the child into his arms. He rocked Heron gently, whispering soft reassurances until the cries subsided. Once Heron was quiet again, Haran laid him back down and returned to sit on the bed.

  "I’m sorry, Adel," Haran said in a low voice. "There were others who worked on the project with us. They fueled new ideas and pushed for the experiments. After we succeeded with two soul gems, the adrenaline and excitement clouded our judgment. We convinced ourselves we could scale the experiment and harness more. We thought we were on the verge of something monumental."

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  Haran paused, his gaze drifting toward the cradle where his son slept. "We believed we could reshape the world. That Heron would grow up in a world where humanity no longer bowed to nature, but ruled it. We thought we had found the key to everything."

  "Haran, that’s madness," Adel said with a sharp tone. "Even tainted crystals cause side effects."

  "That’s never been proven," Haran countered. "There are correlations, yes, but they’re few and far between."

  Adel’s frustration bled into his words. "That’s your ignorant view. Here, where we build wooden fences and send our young to their deaths, we see the truth. The number of monsters and demons grows every star cycle. Natural resources dwindle. We have less to live on, and less to fight for."

  He paused, his gaze distant. When he spoke again, his voice was softer.

  "I’m old, Haran. I won’t live to see it. But the young will. They’ll see the day when we fight the cities for resources. And that’s the day we lose. We don’t have the technology to stand against an army. And if we don’t fight? Then we’ll be choosing who will die so that others may live. And how much is even that worth?"

  "I understand your concerns, Adel," Haran began, trying to speak calmly. "But that’s the ignorance of villagers speaking. Crystals can enhance the growth and preservation of food. I’ve witnessed it myself, time and again. Nothing in nature changed because of it. You can’t claim it's relations of events occurring hundreds of miles away." Haran clenched his fists. "And even if you’re right, why didn’t our experiment fail in the same way?"

  Adel said nothing. He sat back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest with an unreadable expression.

  "And what’s your plan now?" the old man finally asked. "It will be at least 70 more days before the last stretch of the cycle ends, and the snow subsides. Any attempt to leave before then would spell certain death for you and your son."

  "You’re right," Haran admitted. "My sincere request is that you allow us to remain in the village during this time. I’ve already told you I have no money, but once my strength is fully restored, I will use my knowledge and abilities to aid the village however I can, in exchange for food and shelter."

  "Haran, I’ll be frank with you. Our resources are stretched thin. I can’t say whether others will willingly sacrifice their food and drink to support you and your son. At the same time, it feels morally right to offer you what aid we can. But this is not a decision I can make alone. I need to bring it to the council. For now, what you’ve been given comes from the kindness of a few of our warriors, but I can’t ask more of them. The council must decide. I’ll gather them in three days at the administrative barracks. When the time comes, you’ll present your case."

  Haran inclined his head. "I couldn’t ask for more."

  "Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need time to process everything I’ve heard. There are other council members in the village whom I must inform about this as well."

  Adel rose from his seat and bowed slightly before stepping out into the cold. Yuri stood watch outside.

  "Yuri," Adel said, pausing. "Until the council has made its decision about our visitors, I advise you to keep your conversations with him to what’s necessary."

  Yuri’s brow furrowed. "I understand. But… is it really that bad?"

  "For us, no," Adel thoughtfully replied. "If anything, today has only confirmed what our ancestors believed. Those who dwell in the cities are driven by their insatiable hunger for progress, devoid of spiritual and intellectual growth. They play with forces they cannot comprehend. This man is proof of that. He should be pitied, not judged."

  As Adel turned to walk the snow-covered path, he shifted his gaze upwards towards the skies. The faint glimmer of the crosses above reflected faintly in his eyes as he murmured to himself, "Is this land of ours truly an abyss?"