The world that received Elian was not unlike the one he had left — and yet, it was wondrously, gloriously different.
The quarry where he had descended was surrounded by hills crowned with tall, silver-leaved trees that shimmered in the light of twin suns.
The sky, vast and deep, carried hues not seen on Earth — deep violets fading into molten gold, and clouds that drifted like slow ships on a jeweled sea.
Elian stood in awe.
The dust of the quarry clung to his robes, but he paid it no mind.
His spirit soared, singing praises silently within him.
He was a stranger in a strange land — yet he feared nothing, for the Lord who sent him was with him.
He began to walk, staff in hand — a simple branch he had fashioned from a fallen tree nearby.
Everywhere his eyes turned, he beheld marvels.
He saw trees that whispered with voices like chimes, their trunks translucent, their roots pulsing with soft inner light.
He passed flowers larger than his head, petals swirling slowly in unseen breezes, each giving off a gentle glow like a lantern.
Birds of radiant hues, some with six wings, others with twin tails of flame, danced through the skies above.
Beasts of the earth — deer with antlers of crystal, foxes whose fur sparkled like morning frost — watched him with curious, ancient eyes.
Here, magic was not mere artifice.
It was life itself — a breath interwoven with every leaf and stone.
Elian marveled, and in his heart, he offered a prayer:
"Blessed be the works of Thy hands, O Lord. Great and mighty are Thy designs."
He wandered through glades of living light, climbed ridges that overlooked seas of green mist, and crossed streams whose waters sang sweetly as they flowed.
And for a time, it was enough simply to walk, to see, and to praise.
But soon, the hardships came.
The sun dipped beyond the horizon, and with it came a bitter cold unlike any he had known.
He gathered branches, built a modest fire, and huddled beneath a crude shelter of stones and leaves.
The wind howled like a chorus of wolves through the hills, yet Elian endured, whispering prayers into the darkness:
"Even in the night, Thou art my light. Even in the storm, Thou art my shield."
Days passed.
The food he had carried — a handful of berries, a few roots — dwindled quickly.
Hunger gnawed at him, sharp and merciless.
Yet Elian remembered the words of old:
"Man shall not live by bread alone."
He drank from clear brooks, scavenged for fruits, learned to trap small creatures whose meat sustained him just enough to walk another day.
Each morsel was received with gratitude, each breath with thanksgiving.
When the rains came — fierce, cold, relentless — he did not curse the heavens.
He found shelter beneath the broad leaves of a tree whose bark glowed faintly with warmth.
There, soaked and shivering, he lifted his face to the weeping sky and smiled.
"Let the waters cleanse me" he said "and the storm teach me endurance."
He fashioned crude garments from woven grass and the hides of beasts he had to hunt with snares.
Learned to read the paths of stars foreign yet somehow familiar.
In every hardship, he found not despair but discovery — a lesson, a gift.
In the solitude of that vast, untamed world, Elian prayed often.
Not with desperation, but with a steady, burning faith.
"Thou hast not abandoned me" he whispered, kneeling upon a mountaintop as the twin suns rose in glory
"and I shall not abandon Thee."
His body grew lean, his muscles hardened.
The softness of mortal life was stripped away, and in its place was forged a pilgrim of unbreakable spirit.
And so he walked, mile after mile, heart unwavering.
Until, one day, as he crested a high ridge crowned with violet moss and crystal blooms, he saw it.
Far below, nestled between forests and rivers, was a village.
Smoke rose from chimneys; fields of strange crops stretched in tidy rows; banners fluttered gently in the breeze.
Stone walls, not high but strong, encircled the humble settlement.
A thrill stirred in his chest.
"The laborers of this land" he murmured
"the stewards of this strange earth. Let me be their brother, their servant, their shield."
For a long time, he stood there, gazing down, bathed in the light of the setting suns.
A pilgrim on sacred ground. A soul sent from beyond the stars.
And with a heart full of hope, he began his descent.