Beihe noticed the faded smile and distant look in her adopted daughter. The cheerful mask Entya used whenever meeting others couldn't fool her eyes. She felt helpless. Beihe knew that ordinary words of comfort would not be enough. Entya didn't need pity; she needed a purpose.

One quiet afternoon, Entya was sorting dried herbs without enthusiasm. Beihe approached her. She sat cross-legged across from Entya, her eyes gazing gently.

"Entya," Beihe called softly. "Is your heart covered in fog lately?"

Entya flinched, her gaze shifting from the pile of dry roots to Beihe's face. She forced a thin smile. "No, Auntie. I was just... thinking."

"About what?" Beihe asked calmly.

Entya sighed, yielding to the gentleness of Beihe's gaze. "About... everything, Auntie. About how I am. I can't help like the others. I always look fragile, I always need to be guarded. I'm... different." Her voice filled with disappointment.

Beihe nodded slowly, understanding every word. She reached for Entya’s small hands, holding them tightly. "You are different, Entya. But that is not a curse. It is a gift."

Entya frowned, confused. "A gift? What do you mean, Auntie?"

"Behind this small body of yours and your beautiful larimar eyes," Beihe pressed Entya's palm. "Lies a power that no one else possesses. The power to heal, to grow."

"The power of Enki. A legacy from your mother."

Entya’s eyes widened. Power? Healing? She looked at Beihe with disbelief. "Mother? I have a power? Auntie, explain! What is it?"

Beihe smiled, seeing the spark of hope reignite in Entya's eyes. "Look at my blending table." Beihe pointed to the corner of the ger, where various herbs and flowers were neatly arranged on a wooden table. "Those herbs never wilt. Do you know why?"

Entya looked at the table, then back at Beihe. "I always wondered, Auntie. I thought you had a special spell."

"No. It is a result of your power, Entya. Every time you are here, every time you touch them, even unconsciously, your energy flows, nourishing them."

Beihe got up and walked out of the ger, returning with a wilted houseplant. "Now, try this."

Beihe handed the pot to Entya. "Remember the cool energy that usually swirls inside you every full moon? Feel that energy. Imagine it resides in your heart, then channel it to your hands, to this plant."

Entya stared at the wilting plant, then at Beihe, who nodded encouragingly.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She recall the sensation on full moon nights, but this time she tried to feel the core of that energy, not the pain. Slowly, she felt a gentle pulse, a cool current swirling in her chest, then flowing into her arms and palms. She opened her eyes, seeing a faint, unstable blue-green light radiating from her fingers, enveloping the plant.

Miraculously, the yellow leaves turned deep green, and the small buds bloomed instantly.

Entya gasped, tears streaming down her face. A feeling of relief and emotion flooded her.

It was real.

She jumped up, hugging Beihe tightly. "Auntie! I... I can do it!"

Beihe returned the embrace, stroking Entya’s hair. "You are a gift, child. Never feel inferior. One day, you will be able to heal wounds, even restore barren land."

Beihe released the embrace, looking at Entya with a meaningful smile. "Train that power regularly, Entya. Never be afraid. It is a part of you."

Entya felt a new glimmer of hope. This power was hers. Something that could not be compared to anyone. And the first thought that popped into her mind was that she couldn't wait to show Yul.

Time had passed since the Salkha Clan settled in this valley. Among the elders, talk of the next nomadic rotation after the stormy season began to circulate. The news spread quickly. Women gathered in the open space, thinly slicing mutton into jerky, while others were busy churning milk in skin bags for fermentation. Sacks of barley were neatly piled, and the sharp scent of spices wafted from the gers where mothers prepared seasonings for the journey.

The village atmosphere was filled with a hopeful spirit of preparation.

Inside their warm, herbal-scented ger, Beihe was busy grinding dried roots. "Our supplies are almost gone, especially the salves for wounds," she muttered more to herself.

"I can search for more, Auntie," Entya chimed in, turning her attention from a piece of hide she was sewing. "Perhaps near the spring? The plants there are always more fertile."

Beihe looked at her with a faint smile. "Good idea. Find me some witch hazel and marigold. Be careful there, okay? And... don't push yourself too hard with your training."

"I'll be fine, Auntie," Entya replied with a confidence. She took her basket and her bow, then stepped outside.

The journey to the spring felt like retracing old steps.

This place hasn't changed much, she thought, looking at the familiar rocks and trees.

But I have.

The memories of her childhood with Yul, Gerel, and Jochi still felt warm, but the pain from that wedding night had faded, replaced by something stronger, something real—the power flowing at her fingertips.

Upon arrival, she set down her basket and knelt by the edge of the clear water. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and touched the water's surface. Don't force it, just flow, she thought.

A soft blue-green light flowed from her palm, merging with the water. She could feel the pulse of life from every root and sprout around her. Wild flowers that were budding slowly bloomed in response, and the fern leaves by the water looked greener and more vibrant.

This was her secret ritual, her way of feeling whole.

Suddenly, in the midst of her concentration, she felt a resonance.

"What was that?"

Not a sound, but a strange vibration in the air and the ground, a strong pull of energy. The power within her seemed to react, pulsing in her veins.

"Something... is calling my power." Alert, she instantly stood up. Her hand instinctively reached for the bow slung across her back. She scanned the trees across the spring.

In the distance, between the shadows of the branches, her eyes caught a flash of red.

Something was moving with unnatural speed, too fast for a deer or a wolf.

Before she could draw an arrow, the red figure vanished into the dense thicket. Without a second thought, driven by burning curiosity, Entya ran after it. She leaped over tree roots and pushed through bushes, her eyes keen for tracks. But after a while, she stopped in a small, quiet clearing.

Nothing. No footprints, no broken branches. As if the figure had vanished into thin air.

Catching her breath, she leaned against a tree trunk. Her heart was still pounding, not just from fatigue, but from the residual strange energy. Oddly, she didn't feel afraid. On the contrary, she felt alive. The power inside her felt stronger than before, as if awakened by the figure's presence. The red flash danced in her mind.

"I wish I could meet him again," she murmured.

Her reverie was broken by the frantic sound of wings flapping. Dozens of birds flew out of the trees simultaneously, shooting into the sky with cries of terror. They were all flying away from one direction: the direction of her village. Instantly, a chilling sense replaced her curiosity. That was an unmistakable sign of danger. Something very bad was happening.

Far from the spring's tranquility, the peace of Salkha Village had been torn apart. Panic screams replaced laughter, mixing with the sound of foreign hooves and clashing weapons. Black smoke began to rise from several burning gers. The enemy had come.

-

On the steppe behind the spring, a man with undeniable aura mounted his horse. The maroon coat and deep purple cloak he wore fluttering in the gentle breeze, accompanying his wild and untamed maroon hair that floated like fire under the dim twilight. Between the high collars of his cloak, his amethyst eyes emitted a sharp, golden light.

He stared at his palm, recalling the energetic pull he had just felt—a powerful resonance that echoed in his veins.

"Astonishing," he murmured. His eyes shifted toward the small footprints on the damp ground.

His face grew serious again. He waved his hand, signaling. From behind the bushes and rocks, several figures dressed in dark clothing appeared silently, moving like shadows. They were his shadow warriors, Talrakia's elite troops.

"Arash," he called, his calm voice full of authority. A middle-aged man with a stern face stepped forward, bowing respectfully. "Quickly prepare the shadow warriors."

Arash raised his head, his sharp eyes looking at the Lord before him. "Is there trouble, Lord?"

"There is suspicious movement from the Tam Mori Clan on the southern border. They are moving toward this valley."

"Marauders again?" Arash frowned. "We will ambush them, my Lord. They won't touch the village."

"No. Let them approach." The man's voice was calculated. "I want you and your warriors prepared on the back line. Protect the villagers if the situation worsens, but do not intervene until I give the order."

Arash bowed. "Understood, Lord Nashr."

With a swift spur, Nashr galloped toward Salkha Village, his cloak swinging like giant wings, and his maroon hair flowing like a flame in the darkening steppe.

The work of destiny's will had begun.