After the Council, I returned home—not to rest, but to work.

  For three days, I barely left my room.

  I slept two hours at a time.

  Drank water, forgetting when I’d last eaten.

  Wrote, erased, and wrote again.

  Fire.

  Air.

  Earth.

  I broke down each element the way I would explain it to a child…

  and the way I would explain it to an archmage.

  Structure.

  Diagrams.

  Pressure charts.

  Methods of control.

  Common mistakes.

  Exercises.

  Methods of self-analysis.

  By the third day, my fingers were trembling from exhaustion.

  The quill left ink blots behind.

  And my eyes burned as if I’d been staring into fire.

  But I finished.

  On the fourth day, I quickly sketched notes on spatial magic and illusions.

  Not full books—just outlines.

  So they would at least know where to look.

  On the fifth day came the hardest part.

  I began describing the “Laws of the World.”

  Things even children know where I’m from, but…

  things that don’t exist in the forest.

  I wrote as best I could:

  — gravity,

  — inertia,

  — mass,

  — energy,

  — momentum,

  — thermodynamics,

  — basic aerodynamics,

  — pressure, lift.

  I wrote so fast that, on the last pages, my handwriting turned into scribbles—

  something between a cipher and ancient runes.

  When I finished, my hands ached as if I’d been holding a sword nonstop for three days.

  I looked at the stack of notebooks.

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  And quietly said to myself:

  “…Enough.”

  On the way to the forest, I walked faster than usual.

  The sky was clear, the wind fresh, and in my head there was a faint tremor of exhaustion mixed with a strange excitement.

  At the entrance, as always, I was met by the White Wolf and the Gray Shadow.

  “The Council is waiting,” said the White Wolf.

  “And the others too,” added the Gray Shadow.

  When I entered, the seven young elves were already gathered around the root-table.

  Firefly-runes lit their faces—faces that seemed a little more mature than I remembered.

  I placed the books in front of them.

  The elves stared at the stack as if it were a sacred artifact.

  Selia was the first to carefully open one of the notebooks…

  and a laugh escaped her.

  “Um… Zen-senpai… this…” She blushed.

  Lienna leaned closer.

  “The handwriting… is unusual.”

  Tyriel snorted.

  “Are those even letters? Or some secret language from your Academy?”

  Feriss scoffed.

  “Oh, come on! This can definitely be deciphered… someday.”

  Reim picked up one book, shook his head, and said with genuine warmth:

  “The handwriting is terrible.

  But the content… is priceless.”

  He bowed.

  “Thank you, Zen-senpai. This is more than help. This is a road we can walk on our own.”

  I blushed, embarrassed.

  “The important thing is that you can read it.”

  Selia smiled.

  “We will. Even if it’s… your personal cipher.”

  And for the first time, I saw all seven elves holding the books as if they were afraid to drop them.

  I spent the next few days at home, in quiet, with my parents.

  Helping my father in the yard.

  Cooking with my mother.

  Reading old books I’d long wanted to open.

  Just sitting on the porch in the evenings, listening to the wind play with the leaves.

  Sometimes it felt like this was the most right place in the world.

  My father asked:

  “Did you manage everything?”

  “Yes.” I nodded. “They’ll do the rest themselves.”

  He smiled softly, for the first time in a long while.

  “Then I’m at ease.”

  Before leaving, I did something I’d been thinking about for a long time.

  A communication orb.

  A pair of thin glass spheres with runic veins inside.

  One—for my parents.

  One—for me.

  One—for the elves.

  “Put mana into it, and the message will arrive.

  With a half-hour delay if it’s far away.

  And almost instantly if you put in a lot of mana.”

  Mom gasped when she took the orb in her hands.

  “It’s… so warm.”

  Father turned the sphere in his hand, looking straight at me.

  “Don’t forget, son.”

  “What?”

  He placed a hand on my shoulder.

  “That you are human.

  And whatever awaits you there—in the forest, or the Academy, or somewhere else…

  never forget those who were always by your side.”

  I felt something stir in my chest.

  “I won’t forget,” I said.

  And for the first time in a long while…

  I meant it.