"Dear?" her father muttered, a bit shocked.
"What do you mean?" Icariel asked the voice in his head.
"Answer her first," the voice said.
"My name... guess it's a little late for that," Icariel said, confused but trying to sound casual. "My name is Icariel."
The elf girl, cheeks slightly flushed, smiled softly. "Icariel, huh? That's a nice name."
"Thanks," Icariel said. She hesitated for a moment, looking a bit disappointed when he didn't say more. Turning away, she mumbled, "Let's go then."
Before she could leave, Icariel stepped forward and gently grabbed her small hand. "What about your name?" he asked.
She turned back, her smile now bright and satisfied. "I thought you'd never ask... My name is Elif. Elif Radison."
"You have a nice name too, Elif," Icariel said sincerely. The small elf girl blushed again, though the boy remained completely clueless.
"By the way," Icariel added, scratching the back of his head, "isn't it weird? We're learning each other's names now after three whole days?"
She muttered under her breath, "Idiot... You really meant it when you said you know nothing about us elves, huh..."
Elif returned to her father's side. Aelar watched her, then spoke warmly, "Elif, are you sure?"
"Yes, Father. He deserves it."
"Then, if my daughter says so, why not us?" Aelar said, turning to Icariel. "I'm Aelar Radison," he introduced himself with a kind smile.
The two blond elves followed. "I'm Faelar," said one.
"And I'm Valandil," said the other.
Icariel scratched the back of his head, feeling a little awkward. "Ah... it's a bit weird getting all your names now, but nice to meet you all. I'm Icariel."
"Don't say that anymore,"the voice suddenly whispered in his mind.
"Huh? Why?" Icariel asked mentally.
Then Aelar stepped closer. "You really don't know what it means when an elf asks a human for their name first, do you?"
"Hah? I have no idea, sorry," Icariel admitted.
Aelar laughed heartily. "As expected from a boy living up in a cave! Don't worry—maybe it's better that way," he said, winking.
"Huh, tell me!" Icariel protested.
"Nah, it'll be more fun like this," Aelar chuckled.
"Fine," Icariel thought to himself. "You don't want to tell me? I have someone who knows everything."
"Voice," he asked silently, "what does it mean? What are they talking about?"
The voice answered immediately, calm and certain. "Firstly, when a male elf asks a human or another race their name, and that name is freely given back, it means three things: respect, recognition, and acceptance. Even though elves are friendly with humans, this is still rare. But..."
"But?" Icariel asked.
"But when a female elf asks for a name... it's different. It either means acknowledgment... or feelings."
Icariel's eyes widened. "What?? Feelings?? Like couples back in Mjull? Like Grido and Irena?!"
"Something like that."
"No way!" Icariel almost screamed in his mind.
"Don't worry," the voice added."It's likely just acknowledgment. You saved her life, after all. Feelings don't always mean romance or love, not for elves. Calm down."
"Yeah... of course. What do feelings have to do with me?" Icariel grumbled.
"I agree with you," the voice said playfully.
"Are you ready?" Aelar asked, cutting into the conversation.
"Just one last thing," Icariel said, turning to face the cave he had called home.
He bowed his head low, whispering, "Thanks... for sheltering me."
Then, lifting his head high, he smiled. "Now I'm ready."
Aelar smiled at the boy's action. "Good. Let's go."
And so, Icariel, Aelar, Elif, Faelar, and Valandil set off, stepping deeper into the forest—toward the elves' tribe.
They had walked for at least two or three hours. The noon sun was probably close now, judging by the light creeping through the thick forest.
Icariel walked behind them, munching on something green.
"Hey, Elif, this food called Jeprak isn't bad at all," he said, holding up a green ball wrapped in leafy layers.
"I told you! It's really tasty. I love it," Elif answered with a proud smile.
"Yeah... it's not half bad," Icariel admitted, still chewing.
"So... when will we arrive?" he asked.
"Soon," Aelar said over his shoulder.
"But tell me," Aelar continued, "what were you doing alone in the forest, Icariel?"
"I've lived there for more than a month," Icariel replied simply.
"My village, Mjull... it got destroyed by invaders. I was the only one who survived."
"Mjull...?" Aelar frowned. "I've never heard of it. But... I'm sorry for your loss. At your age... such tragedy..." Aelar's voice dropped into a quiet murmur.
"Thanks," Icariel muttered back, his eyes distant.
Elif walked silently beside them. She understood a little better now—what kind of boy Icariel really was.
Aelar only glanced at him briefly, then continued leading the way without saying more.
The forest felt endless.
"I never imagined the forest would be this big..." Icariel muttered.
But after a while, something strange appeared in his vision. Two ancient trees stood side by side, and between them... floated a shimmering blue portal.
He kept quiet, pretending not to notice.
As the group stopped, he blinked innocently.
"Why did we stop?" Icariel asked.
Aelar smiled slightly. "We've arrived."
"Huh? There's... nothing here," Icariel said, acting clueless.
"You're not a mage," Aelar said, "but Elif told me you have mage abilities. Activate that Spirit Zone you mentioned... and look again."
Icariel played along, pretending to activate it.
He narrowed his eyes. "There's... a portal?"
"Correct," Aelar said. "That's where our home is. We need to cross it."
"But why make it like this?" Icariel asked, fascinated.
"It's for protection. One of the hardest and finest works of our mages. It keeps us safe from monsters... and from dangers like dungeon outflows," Aelar explained.
"Awesome..." Icariel muttered under his breath.
"Come," Aelar said, smiling. "Time to introduce you to our home."
Together, they stepped forward and entered the portal.
The moment Icariel crossed the portal, his breath caught in his throat.
A whole new world unfolded before him.
Mana danced freely in the air—tiny orbs of green, white, and silver drifting like lazy fireflies. Towering trees, larger than anything he'd ever imagined, stretched so high they seemed to brush the heavens. Their mighty branches cradled homes shaped from living wood, glowing faintly with magic.
On the ground, smooth as glass, beautiful houses lined the forest floor, their walls woven from vines and polished stone. Everywhere, elves moved with a grace and poise that seemed almost dreamlike—men and women cloaked in flowing robes of every imaginable color, their hair shining gold, rare hues of deep copper or pale blue.
"They're full of mana... every single one of them," Icariel realized, awe-struck. "So different from humans. So blessed."
His black eyes sparkled with wonder.
It was the first time since Mjull fell—and since Groon's house—that he had stood among so many living, breathing souls. It overwhelmed him... and filled him with a warmth he hadn't even known he missed.
"Wow... Amazing..." he breathed.
"You like it?" Elif asked quietly, walking beside him.
"Yes," Icariel said, his voice almost reverent. "It's so peaceful... like another world remembers me of my village."
But then—A chill rushed through his body.
White Sense flared in his mind, sharper and faster than ever before. "Danger? No... not danger. Something massive."
Instinctively, Icariel turned his head to the left—his body moving before he even thought.
And there, looming in the distance, he saw it:
A tree, so colossal it defied reason, its trunk alone wide enough to dwarf entire villages. Its roots plunged deep into the earth, thick and gnarled like the arms of ancient gods. At the base of the tree, tucked seamlessly into its roots, stood a castle—pure white, radiant under the sunlight. Towers crowned with silver spires rose high, glittering like stars caught in daylight.
The sight stole the breath from his lungs.
He stared, frozen, unable to look away.
"What... what is that?" Icariel gasped, his voice a whisper of pure disbelief.