43 - Reflection

The artificial sun-crystal that hung above the cavernous ceiling of Tierra had begun to dim, its golden light softening into hues of amber and rose.

Shadows lengthened across the stone streets, and the rhythmic hum of the city slowed as the dwarves began to close their workshops and forge. Evening was coming—the gentle kind that wrapped the mountain kingdom in a warm, amber glow.

Luna walked alone through one of the wider avenues, her boots making light taps against the smoothed stone path.

The air carried the faint scent of metal and spice, of forges cooling after a day’s work and food stalls opening for the night. Between her fingers, she turned a small silver coin over and over, the etched emblem of a guild glinting faintly under the fading light.

It was the coin Faye had given her.

The mark engraved on its surface was delicate yet bold, a blade wrapped in ivy, surrounded by an intricate runic ring. The metal was slightly warm to the touch, as though it retained the heat of Faye’s hand.

“Guilds…” Luna murmured to herself.

The concept wasn’t new to her. She had known of them before—organizations of adventurers, craftsmen, and merchants bound by shared goals. Holding the coin, she found herself imagining what Faye’s guild might look like.

A guild of elves… she thought, her lips curving faintly.

Her mind wandered almost playfully. If Faye were an example, then surely all the members of her guild must be elegant and graceful, their bearing poised, their eyes clear as polished amber.

Faye had that rare kind of beauty that seemed both noble and dangerous—the kind that made Luna’s human heart quietly admire her.

She wore her armor not as a burden, but as though it were part of her—a knight out of a fairy tale, polished steel and flowing hair shimmering under Tierra’s light.

Luna pictured a hall filled with elves like her, discussing quests and battles, their laughter echoing through marble corridors. Then she giggled softly to herself.

“They’d look more like a group of models than adventurers,” she whispered under her breath.

The sound of her own voice pulled her back to the present, and she smiled faintly, tucking the coin safely into her satchel.

As she continued down the street, her thoughts drifted from Faye to the topic of guilds in general. She remembered, almost wistfully, the day she had first stepped into an adventurer’s guild building—back when she had first decided to travel in this world.

That city… what was its name again? She could still see it in her memory, tall stone spires, cobblestone streets, and banners fluttering in the wind.

The guild itself had been a surprise. Even from the outside, it looked far from the rugged, medieval image she’d imagined.

The structure was sleek and well-crafted—stone polished smooth, metal frames reinforcing its tall glass windows, and magical sigils faintly glowing along the entrance.

For a moment, Luna had even thought it was a palace. Its tall spires gleamed faintly under the sun, and the engraved crest above the gates shimmered with faint mana light.

It felt almost too elegant, too refined, to be a place for adventurers. Almost like a misplaced building from her old world, set against the cobbled streets and rustic homes around it.

But what truly caught her off guard was the people inside.

The adventurers weren’t the weathered, armor-clad figures she had pictured from stories. Instead, they wore well-tailored coats, crisp uniforms, and clean boots that gleamed beneath the bright lighting.

Their mannerisms were composed, their voices steady and polite as they discussed quests over cups of coffee and filled out neatly organized paperwork.

Luna remembered standing there, momentarily frozen by how wrong her assumptions had been. They didn’t look like adventurers at all—they looked like scholars, diplomats, or even office clerks in disguise.

And yet, the air inside had thrummed with energy. Beneath the refinement and orderliness, she sensed it—the same restless spirit of those who sought challenge, discovery, and the unknown.

That realization had made her heart quicken with excitement. For a moment, she’d wanted nothing more than to be one of them—to take on quests, to see distant places, to uncover the mysteries of this new world.

But then she’d made that… impulsive decision.

Luna groaned softly at the memory.

She had, in her naivety, proclaimed herself a high-level eight mage. The faces of the guild staff had been a mix of disbelief and forced politeness. It hadn’t been arrogance—just excitement.

Back then, she hadn’t really known what to do or how to act in this strange new world of hers. Everything had felt thrilling and unreal, and in her eagerness, she’d simply blurted out the first thing that sounded impressive.

“How embarrassing…” she muttered, her cheeks warming at the thought.

For a moment, she wondered—what if she hadn’t done that? What if she had stayed, quietly working her way up through small quests? What would her life look like now? Would she have a team? Would she have learned to belong in this world faster?

But then, her heart softened as her mind drifted to the faces she’d met since then.

Anna.

Her dear friend. Her first real companion in this world.

Luna slowed her pace, her fingers brushing lightly against her satchel as though she could find comfort there.

She remembered Anna’s laughter—the way her eyes sparkled whenever she teased Luna about something.

How she’d drag Luna through the streets of Celestia, determined to show her every beautiful thing, from perfume stalls to sweet shops. How her presence made Luna feel less alone, less lost.

A pang tugged at her chest.

She missed her.

Far more than she expected to.

Luna took a deep breath, and the smell of dwarven cooking filled her lungs—a blend of roasted meat, herbs, and yeast. It grounded her, easing the ache just a little. To distract herself, she reached into her satchel and pulled out a small piece of dwarven sweet.

The sugary shell cracked under her teeth, the caramelized flavor melting on her tongue. The sweetness comforted her in the same quiet way the memory of her adopted grandpa, William Terra, once had.

She smiled softly to herself. “I guess I’m still an adventurer, in my own way…”

She may not have a guild card or a rank, but she had traveled far, seen places few could imagine, and faced dangers most wouldn’t believe. Her journey, though unconventional, was still an adventure.

As she walked, the artificial sun-crystal dimmed further, casting the streets into a soft twilight.

The glow of dwarven lamps—small crystal orbs embedded in the walls—flickered to life one by one. The sight amazes her. It was as though the mountain itself was breathing light.

Now came the question of dinner.

She rubbed her chin thoughtfully, her mind drifting to a familiar aroma.

“Grakha’s skewers…” she murmured, her mouth already watering at the thought.

But she had eaten that for breakfast. The smoky, savory taste still lingered faintly in her memory. Tonight, she wanted to try something different—something new.

Her nose caught a scent, rich and tantalizing, curling through the air like an invisible trail.

Something simmering. Savory. Comforting.

Her curiosity guided her feet more than her mind did, leading her through the gently curving street until she found the source.

A small stall stood tucked between two larger shops, its wooden counter warm under the glow of a nearby light crystal. Steam drifted upward from a pot, carrying with it an aroma that made Luna’s stomach flutter with anticipation.

Behind the counter stood a young dwarven girl—no older than Luna herself appeared to be—tending the boiling pot with focused care.

Luna approached, peeking curiously over the counter. “That smells amazing,” she said. “What is it?”

The young dwarf turned quickly, startled. Her face was soft, round, and faintly flushed from the heat of the pot. She wore her reddish-brown hair in two short braids, and her apron was slightly too big for her.

“Ah—uhm…” she stammered, her voice gentle and shy. “It’s… noodles.”

Luna blinked. “Noodles?” Her expression lit up instantly. “Really? You have noodles here?”

The dwarven girl nodded meekly, twiddling her fingers together. “Aye… m–my mum makes ’em. I’m jus’ lookin’ after the stall tonight.”

Luna leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “What are they made of?”

The girl blinked, clearly unused to such enthusiastic questioning. “Er… well, it’s wheat flour mixed with egg an’ a pinch o’ dwarven salt. The broth’s made from smoked boar bones an’ herbs from the lower caverns.”

Luna listened with rapt attention, nodding along as if hearing the recipe for a royal dish. “That sounds wonderful,” she said earnestly. “One bowl, please.”

The young dwarf nodded quickly, relief flickering in her eyes as she turned to prepare the order. Her hands moved with practiced precision, and Luna watched with quiet fascination.

The stall, with its simple counter, small pots, and warm, fragrant air, reminded Luna of something deeply nostalgic—a ramen shop.

Her mind drifted to her grandparents’ province in her old world, where she’d often sneak off to eat steaming bowls of ramen late in the evening. The sound of broth bubbling, the clatter of utensils, the faint hiss of oil—it all felt so familiar now, and her heart softened with warmth.

The girl ladled the noodles carefully into a bowl and placed it before Luna. “Here ye go,” she said softly.

“Thank you!” Luna chirped.

The steam rose like a comforting mist, carrying the scent of herbs and roasted meat. Luna clasped her hands together in delight before picking up the chopsticks.

Her first bite made her eyes widen—the noodles were chewy, the broth deep and savory, layered with a smoky richness that lingered on her tongue.

“This is so good,” she said between bites, her voice full of genuine wonder.

The young dwarven girl turned pink, her lips curving into a shy smile as she returned to her cooking.

Luna ate happily, savoring each bite with the kind of enthusiasm that made the other customers glance over and smile themselves.

Every few moments, the young dwarf would sneak glances at Luna, watching the little human girl’s delighted expression. Somehow, it made her heart feel lighter.

When Luna finally set her chopsticks down, her bowl empty, she let out a small sigh of satisfaction.

“That was perfect,” she said softly.

The dwarven girl approached, wiping her hands nervously on her apron. “Ah’m glad ye liked it,” she said, her voice small and hesitant.

Luna tilted her head curiously. “You said your mother usually runs the stall, right? Why are you alone tonight?”

The question seemed to catch the young girl off guard. She blinked, startled, then fidgeted slightly with the edge of her apron.

“Ah… me mum had ta go somewhere earlier,” she said, her words tumbling out with a nervous rhythm. “She asked me ta look after it fer a wee while. I—I can make the noodles well enough, so…”

Her words came out softly, with a nervous stutter that only made her seem more endearing.

Luna smiled. “That’s really responsible of you,” she said warmly. “You’re doing great.”

The girl’s cheeks reddened further, her eyes darting away shyly. “T-thank ye… but… ye look younger than me,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Luna blinked, then laughed softly, taking the remark as a compliment. “Maybe,” she said. “But I think you’re very capable.”

The girl smiled faintly at that, the corners of her eyes softening.

They talked for a little while longer—about noodles, about cooking, about small things that didn’t really matter but felt pleasant to share.

When Luna finally stood to leave, she reached into her satchel and pulled out a small, wrapped sweet.

“Here,” she said, handing it across the counter. “For you.”

The young dwarven girl blinked, staring down at the gift. The familiar golden wrapping caught the lamplight, and her eyes widened slightly.

“Th-this is… a dwarven sweet,” she whispered, her eyes widening. Her voice carried a note of disbelief. “These’re… really rare. E-even us dwarves can’t find ’em easy…”

Luna just smiled. “Then I guess that makes it special,” she said, turning to leave.

The young dwarf hesitated, the sweet resting in her palm, her gaze following the small human girl as she walked down the softly lit street.

Who is she…?

The question echoed silently in her mind as the little figure grew smaller and smaller under the dimming glow of Tierra’s evening lights.

And yet, as the dwarven girl unwrapped the gift just enough to see the crystalline sugar gleam beneath, she couldn’t help but smile.

The warmth of that simple exchange lingered long after Luna stepped away from the stall, a faint smile still playing on her lips as the soft light of the sun-crystals washed over her.

The streets around her glowed with their gentle radiance, guiding her path through Tierra.

Before long, her steps carried her toward the Hearth Hollow Inn.

The inn was built into the mountain’s stone, its windows glowing softly like embers in the dim. When Luna pushed open the door, the familiar warmth of the place enveloped her—the scent of woodsmoke and stew, the low hum of quiet conversation, the faint clinking of mugs.

A few patrons were still gathered near the fireplace—travelers, merchants, and a handful of dwarves playing a slow card game. The innkeeper, a stout dwarven woman with kind eyes and a long braid streaked with silver, looked up and smiled as Luna entered.

“Back again, little traveler, are ye?” she greeted, her tone amused but gentle.

Luna nodded with a small smile. “Mm. It’s nice here.”

The dwarf chuckled, waving a hand toward the stairs. “Aye, glad to hear it. Yer room’s ready, same as always. Ye eaten yet?”

“Yes,” Luna said. “I had noodles.”

“Noodles, eh? Good choice, that. Ye look like ye enjoyed ’em.”

“I did,” Luna replied softly, and she meant it.

She made her way up the wooden steps, the sound of laughter and soft music fading behind her as she reached the quiet hallway above.

Her room was small but comfortable—a single bed, a sturdy desk, and a crystal window that overlooked the faintly glowing streets below. The light from the artificial sun-crystals gave everything a golden hue, soft and almost dreamlike.

Luna placed her satchel on the desk and removed her cloak, folding it neatly before sitting on the edge of the bed. For a moment, she simply sat there, her thoughts a quiet swirl of the day’s memories.

Atlas came to mind first.

There had been something about him—the way he spoke, the calm in his voice, the strange sense of age that lingered behind his youthful face.

He looked younger than Darren, yet his eyes carried a weight that felt ancient. His movements, his words—all of them had an odd familiarity that Luna couldn’t explain.

Atlas…” she murmured, staring at the ceiling. “Why do you feel so familiar?”

The thought drifted through her mind like a whisper she couldn’t quite catch.

It wasn’t strong enough to call memory—more like a faint tug somewhere deep inside her chest, the kind that came when she smelled something from childhood but couldn’t remember where she’d first encountered it.

It made no sense. She was certain she had never met him before. She’d only just arrived in Tierra, and he was a local—a craftsman who likely spent most of his days surrounded by stone and steel.

And yet… there was something in his presence, in the way he spoke or maybe the quiet weight in his eyes, that brushed against something half-forgotten within her.

The thought pressed against her mind until it ached—a dull throb behind her temples. Luna frowned and rubbed her forehead with a soft groan.

“Ugh. No use thinking about it,” she mumbled. “It’s probably nothing.”

Letting the thought go, she stretched her arms, then lay down on the bed. The blanket was soft and faintly scented of lavender. The ceiling above her shimmered faintly with the reflected light of the sun-crystals outside.

Her mind, restless as ever, drifted again—this time to Faye and Lara.

She smiled faintly as she remembered them sitting across from her at the cafe, Faye’s composed elegance and Lara’s anxious expression.

They had been such a strange pair—one calm and refined, the other nervous and fiery—yet there was warmth between them, a kind of friendship that reminded Luna of Anna and herself.

She hoped the mana stones she’d given them would help. “I really hope it works out,” she whispered. “Lara looked so worried…”

Her gaze softened. She could still picture the way Lara had sat, trying her best not to cry. It had made Luna’s chest tighten in a way she hadn’t expected.

Maybe because she knew what it felt like—to fail, to disappoint someone you respected, to not know what to do next. That kind of fear stayed with you, long after the moment passed.

She turned onto her side, resting her cheek against the pillow.

“And Faye…” she said quietly, a tiny smile forming. “She really is beautiful.”

Luna’s face warmed slightly at the thought. She had seen elves before—from a distance, on the road—but Faye had been the first she’d ever spoken to.

Seeing one up close had been… different. The stories she’d heard growing up in her old world hadn’t done them justice. Faye wasn’t just beautiful, she carried herself with a kind of grace that felt almost unreal—calm, confident, and gentle all at once.

“I wonder if all elves are like that…” she mused, her eyelids growing heavy. “If they are, no wonder people think they’re perfect.”

Her thoughts slowed, softening at the edges, as her mind replayed the image of Faye’s golden eyes catching the café light. Then, as if gently shifting focus, another face appeared in her thoughts—the meek young dwarven girl from the noodle stall.

Luna’s lips curved into a small, fond smile.

“She was nice,” she murmured. “Shy, but nice.”

The girl had spoken softly, her voice almost trembling when Luna asked her questions.

There had been something endearing about her—the way she stuttered slightly, or how her hands moved quickly and precisely when she made the noodles.

Despite her timid nature, she worked with care and confidence behind the counter. It made Luna admire her a little.

She hoped she could see her again. Maybe they could be friends—a dwarf and a human, both small, both fond of food. The thought made Luna giggle quietly into her pillow.

I’ve never had a dwarven friend before, she thought. That might be fun.

Then her thoughts drifted once more—this time to Grakha.

The old dwarven woman’s gruff but kind voice echoed in her memory. Luna smiled sleepily.

“Grakha doesn’t feel like a friend,” she whispered, eyes half-closed. “More like… a grandma.”

The thought brought a quiet warmth to her chest. Only then did Luna realize just how full the day had been—strange and busy, yes, but also wonderful in its own way.

A day of new faces, small kindnesses, and fleeting moments that made the world feel just a little less lonely.

Her breathing slowed, her mind finally quieting.

As she drifted toward sleep, the last thing she saw was the faint glimmer of the artificial sun-crystals through the window. 

Luna smiled faintly, her thoughts dissolving into dreams.

Tomorrow, she would see more of Tierra.