The vault, large enough to hold several people, was almost completely empty. In this vast empty space sat a small, unassuming black box, barely visible against the cold stone floor.

“Was this looted too?”

Laerte asked.

“I don’t think so,” Egon replied, shaking his head. “If anyone had managed to steal from here, the vault door wouldn’t still be sealed.”

He stepped closer, his voice low and steady.

“If someone had taken whatever was inside, they wouldn’t have left anything behind. The fact that it’s still here means it’s worth more than all the gold and jewels that once filled this room.”

Laerte glanced back at the small box and furrowed her brow.

“So this was the only thing in here?”

It looked too insignificant to have been stored in such a large safe. Nevertheless, her curiosity got the better of her. She carefully lifted the box and approached it.

At that instant, a faint hum rippled through the air.

A strange sensation washed over her — something invisible brushed past her and seemed to pass through her body. The air around her shimmered and trembled like disturbed water, then enveloped her in a gentle, almost luminous warmth.

“Egon, do you feel that?”

He frowned.

“Feel what?”

“The air… it’s moving, can’t you see it? It’s—shaking.”

A faint, quivering light danced across the surface of the black box as though it were breathing.

“The air can’t be moving—it’s a sealed vault.”

Egon said, frowning.

“No, not wind,” Laerte replied softly. “The air itself… feels different.”

Something was calling to her, pulling her closer—not with fear or hostility, but with a strange familiarity, like a memory whispering from long ago.

“Can I open it?”

“Of course.”

The small black box was lightly dusty. Its smooth surface was thinly carved from wood. Unlike the thick, reinforced vault door, it had no lock or seal — nothing to suggest that its contents had ever been guarded. Laerte lifted the lid.

Inside lay a single ring.

There was no cushion beneath it, nor any sign of careful preservation — just a tarnished silver band, as though it had been carelessly tossed in and forgotten about.

“That’s it?”

Laerte murmured. Egon took the box from her and examined it closely, a look of disbelief flickering across his face. The ring was simple and heavy, its silver surface darkened by age. In the center of the thick band was a circular emblem engraved with a hexagonal pattern. On closer inspection, it appeared that there was a tiny hinged lid within the design that could be opened.

“May I?”

Laerte asked, curious.

“Wait. Let me do it.”

Egon said quickly. Such hidden compartments were often used to hold poison or other dangerous substances, and he wasn’t going to take any chances. He handed the box back to her and carefully picked up the ring, prying open the small cover.

A faint flash of light rippled outwards, like a spark caught in the air.

“This is…”

Egon breathed. Inside the ring’s cavity, eight tiny gemstones were arranged like the legs of a star, each faintly glowing.

The tiny stones — if they could even be called that — seemed almost alive. Laerte couldn’t tell whether they were gems or crystallized fragments. But their faint shimmer and the way the colors shifted and rippled across their surfaces were unmistakable.

They looked exactly like Henant, the crystal left behind by the Fairy King.

“Henant…”

Laerte spoke in a whisper, almost without realizing it.

Egon immediately shook his head.

“That’s impossible.”

Henant was a colossal crystal pillar and an ancient relic which had stood for countless centuries, sustaining the forest’s barrier all the while. A vast core of condensed magic, it radiated profound power and pulsed with life, even after ages had passed.

Along its surface, energy rippled like flowing light. Beneath the great hexagonal pillar, this energy gathered into luminous droplets — brilliant particles of pure essence that fell like dew into the basin beneath the great tree at the heart of the forest. It was said that these drops spread throughout the woods, sustaining the barrier that protected all life.

It was forbidden to touch Henant. Even approaching it too closely was considered blasphemous. The essence that gathered beneath it — the purest form of the Fairy King’s magic — must never be disturbed. To do so would risk shattering the fragile balance that preserved the strength of the barrier.

No one in the tribe had ever inherited the Fairy King’s power. None had been born with the ability to restore or mend Henant should it ever weaken. Because of this, any act that might endanger its stability was considered the ultimate taboo.

The people of Henant lived with such reverence for this fact that they reshaped their entire way of life around it. They even abandoned fire, choosing to live on raw food instead — lest a single flame disrupt the crystal’s delicate harmony.

“A fragment of Henant…”

Egon murmured, staring at the ring in disbelief.

“Such a thing shouldn’t exist.”

He carefully turned it over in his hands. The small, hexagonal lid was now open, revealing the ancient pattern that symbolized the tribe’s sacred Henant crystal.

“Someone took this from Henant?” Laerte said, her voice barely a whisper. “That can’t be possible. No one could survive touching it—let alone break off a piece.”

Egon’s brow furrowed deeply.

“And yet, here it is. Proof that someone once did.”

When the vault had opened earlier, Laerte had immediately sensed a change in the air around her. It was the same kind of energy that flowed through her whenever she entered the barrier of Henant—pure, abundant, and alive.

“I thought it was just because the air inside the vault was stale.”

Egon said quietly. His senses were not attuned to magic like hers were, so he could not feel it as acutely, but he could still feel a strange calm settle over his chest. It was as if the space itself had exhaled peace.

He closed the lid of the ring’s compartment and gently slid it onto her finger.

Much to their surprise, the ring, which had hung loosely before, began to reshape itself until it fit her hand perfectly.

“Looks like it’s found its rightful owner.”

The silver, which had once been tarnished, now gleamed faintly. Its dullness had been replaced by a subtle lustre that made it seem almost alive.

“I like it.”

Laerte said this, stretching out her hand to admire it. The faint glow of the metal reflected in her green eyes.

“Can you move water with it?”

Egon asked curiously. Laerte blinked and focused her thoughts.

“Not quite. But… I can feel the flow of water more clearly. The energy is sharper somehow.”

“Then maybe you’ll be able to find a spring in the capital.”

After all, that was one of the reasons she had chosen to accompany him. Not only could she not bear the thought of him facing the palace alone, but the drought also showed no sign of ending, with more refugees arriving in Numebo every day to flee the capital.

If she could find a location where a well could be dug, it could change everything.

Despite suffering from the same drought, Numebo managed to sustain itself through four central wells and two large outer springs — providing enough water for its people and farmlands.

If the same could be achieved in the capital, it would bring enormous relief to those who were suffering.

For now, every journey between the two cities required them to haul their entire water supply from Numebo. However, if they could replenish their supplies en route and the capital could secure its own water source, they could cut their heavy water wagons in half.

In desperate times like these, that could mean saving countless lives.

Yet Laerte’s gift weakened the further she travelled from Henant. Even for her, locating underground water veins beyond Numebo’s borders was difficult. She was all too aware of the pain of overextending herself and the toll it took on her body — enough to risk another miscarriage. Egon would never let her face that danger again.

“I’ll have to try first to know for sure. But… I think I can do it.”

At her optimism, Egon’s expression softened.

“I hope it works out.”

“I already feel like I can breathe a little easier.”

Dry air always wore her down. When the moisture in the atmosphere was scarce, she grew listless and tired no matter how well she ate or slept. Back then, she had thought her exhaustion inside the palace was simply from stress and confinement—but after returning to the forest, she realized it had been the dryness all along.

“As long as it’s for the better, I’m glad.”

Egon said, closing the vault door behind them as they left the empty treasury.

“Just don’t push yourself too hard looking for that well. No one’s expecting you to perform a miracle.”

“I know, I know. You sound like an old nag.”

Laerte glanced back at Egon, who responded with a quiet chuckle and a teasing smile. She knew why he kept repeating his warnings; it wasn’t distrust, but concern. He was afraid of seeing her collapse again, and she could sense the tenderness in his voice.

She had already resolved to be cautious and save her strength. Yet with the ring on her finger and a faint current of power gently thrumming through her veins, it felt as though fate itself were quietly reassuring her.

After a brief stop at the treasury, where there was little of interest left, they mounted their horses and rode through the capital, their eyes on the land before them.

Their purpose was clear: to find places where water was nearest the surface, where a spring might someday be discovered.

Though the city lay cracked and breathless under the weight of the long drought, Laerte could feel something faint but alive beneath her hands. A quiet murmur of water deep within the earth, waiting to be awakened.

And as they rode on, word of their presence began to spread. At first, only a few people followed. Then a few more. Before long, crowds had gathered in their wake — an ocean of weary faces flowing after them like a living tide of hope.

“I think this is the place.”

Laerte said at last, kneeling to press her hand against the dry, cracked earth. After a long moment, she stood up and met Egon’s gaze with quiet certainty.

Egon gave a signal.

The lightly armed guards, covered in dust from the road, stepped forward with shovels and began to dig where she had pointed.

The crowd held its breath.

For a while, all that could be heard was the scrape of metal against earth and the murmur of the wind through the empty square. Then, suddenly—

There was a sharp hiss, followed by a rush of sound.

A stream of clear water burst from the hole, shooting upwards in a cool, glittering arc before spilling down over the workers’ hands.

“Wa—water!”

Someone shouted, their voice cracking with disbelief.

Cheers erupted all around them.

The people surged forward, their eyes shining as their laughter broke through the silence that had long plagued the drought-stricken city.

Egon turned towards Laerte. She stood there in the sunlight, her hair clinging faintly to her cheeks. A smile spread across her face as if the earth itself had answered her call.

For a brief, precious moment, hope — something the capital hadn’t seen in years — began to flow again.