Five days after entering The Golden Canopy Road, the forest finally began to thin.
The golden light faded slowly behind us.
The trees opened.
The air changed.
And then we arrived at Lumenveil Terrace.
At first, I thought the road had somehow wandered into a painting.
The land stretched outward in soft layered terraces surrounding several pale-blue lakes.
Everything looked… gentle.
Not weak.
Not fragile.
Gentle in the way watercolor paintings are gentle.
Soft edges.
Soft light.
Nothing harsh enough to interrupt the atmosphere around it.
The grass covering the hills was thick and evenly grown, almost unnaturally smooth beneath the wind.
Terraces filled with rice fields, flowers, and vegetable gardens curved naturally around the lakes like carefully arranged patterns.
The water itself barely moved.
Each lake reflected the sky softly rather than clearly.
As though even reflections behaved more quietly here.
Thin clouds drifted above us while pale sunlight filtered through curved tree branches leaning toward the water.
The entire region glowed faintly gold despite the overcast sky.
I could not explain it properly.
Even now.
The beauty here felt… diffused.
As though the entire region had been submerged inside calmness for generations.
We stopped at one of the resting lodges built beside the terraces.
Several other travelers were already there.
Tourists mostly.
I realized they were outsiders almost immediately.
Not because of their language.
Not because of their clothes.
Because the locals here looked different.
At first I thought they were simply attractive.
Then I realized that description felt incomplete.
Ryn is beautiful.
Very beautiful.
But this felt different.
The people of Lumenveil Terrace were not beautiful in a way that demanded attention.
Not the kind of beauty that empties your thoughts for two days straight while sitting inside a wagon beside Moonfen Sisters.
This was quieter.
More natural.
And somehow—
that made it feel stranger.
The men and women working the terraces moved gracefully without seeming aware of it.
Even simple things felt refined.
The way they carried baskets.
The way they stood while speaking.
The way sunlight rested against their faces.
It was not elegance learned through wealth.
It looked inherited.
That was the part that unsettled me.
Eventually I mentioned this quietly while sitting with the two Moonfen Sisters and Ryn near the edge of the lake.
At some point during the past few days, speaking with the Moonfen Sisters had become strangely comfortable.
I still believed they were twins.
Though I was no longer fully certain.
They listened very carefully whenever I spoke.
Not politely.
Genuinely.
It created a strange feeling.
Like being treated as though my thoughts already deserved space before I had fully finished forming them.
I think that was why I relaxed around them so quickly.
When I mentioned the people of Lumenveil Terrace, one of the sisters tilted her head slightly before answering casually.
“Yggdra is the largest leyline convergence point in the eastern regions.”
“Even this far from the center, the arcane density remains unusually high.”
I stared at her for several seconds.
I did not understand what arcane energy had to do with everyone being absurdly beautiful.
The other sister explained it more directly.
“Arcane energy is absorbed naturally by the body over time.”
“It tends to shape itself around desire.”
She said it so casually that for a moment I thought I had misunderstood.
Then suddenly—
something connected inside my head.
Eight months ago.
Dunskar.
The so-called paradise of treasure hunters.
Everyone there desired strength.
Power.
Survival.
And the people living there truly were stronger than most travelers outside the region.
At the time, I had simply accepted it as coincidence.
Now it no longer felt like coincidence.
I looked back toward the terraces.
Toward the farmers working beneath pale sunlight.
Toward faces and movements refined across generations without conscious effort.
If people near Dunskar unconsciously shaped themselves toward strength…
then perhaps the people here had unconsciously shaped themselves toward beauty.
The thought lingered strangely inside me.
Because wanting strength made sense.
Of course it did.
Strength protects people.
Strength survives.
But beauty?
Why would an entire region desire beauty strongly enough for it to become part of the land itself?
Without realizing it, my eyes drifted toward Ryn.
She was sitting on top of a wooden crate nearby, quietly writing notes beneath the soft lake light.
One leg crossed over the other.
Posture straight.
Completely focused.
The breeze moved several loose strands of hair across her face while sunlight reflected faintly off the gold trim near her sleeve.
And slowly—
very slowly—
I began to understand.
…Ah.
Yes.
That actually makes perfect sense.
Komentar
Posting Komentar