In the desolate, rocky region of Aridath, two figures could be seen making their way along the foot of a mountain. Alaric walked ahead, his serene expression unbroken, while beside him trailed Aria, her wide-eyed curiosity akin to that of a lost deer.

"What can you use this plant for, Master?" Aria asked as her gaze landed on a peculiar flower. Its stem was a blend of soft reds and greens, while its bright pink florets stood out against the otherwise rugged landscape. She had asked this question, in one form or another, about nearly everything they encountered on their journey, but Alaric didn't seem to mind.

"That's a Scarlet Azalea," Alaric replied, his tone patient. "Though it appears bright pink now, when the sun disappears, it will emit a harsh, blinding red light, though only for a short distance."

Alaric was young, yet the wisdom in his voice and demeanor made him seem much older. He wore loose robes of white, trimmed with light blue patterns along the sleeves and back. His hazel eyes—framed by overgrown black hair and sharp features—gave him an almost otherworldly presence. His dark skin, coupled with the occasional flash of light in his eyes, made one question if it was just a trick of the light or something more.

"It's not particularly useful medicinally," Alaric continued, "but certain noble families like to keep them in their estates for its light. You could sell it for a decent price."

Aria frowned slightly at the answer, lowering herself to the ground as she inspected the flower more closely. Conflict played out across her face.

"I thought monks weren't supposed to covet worldly possessions like money," she muttered.

Aria was young—well, young in Alaric's eyes. She had passed her twentieth year and was well beyond the traditional age for marriage, yet she seemed more interested in wandering through life's curiosities than engaging in the societal norms of politicking or courtship.

"Then don't sell it," Alaric replied simply. "Your faith should not bind your actions, but guide your thoughts to a place where your chosen actions do not contradict it."

Aria let her long hair fall unevenly over her shoulder as she considered his words. While she often acted clumsily and let her curiosity lead her, she had traveled with Alaric long enough to know that his teachings, though casually spoken, held deeper meaning.

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"And how will I find my faith, Master?" she asked, her voice tinged with the frustration of someone who had asked this question many times.

"You will find it in time," Alaric said, not missing a beat.

"You always say that," Aria sighed. "Why can't I choose the same constellation as you?"

In Valmorath, faith was not tied to traditional religion. Instead, each person devoted themselves to a constellation. For most people, this was largely symbolic, a way to connect with religious institutions and receive guidance based on the traits their chosen constellation represented. 

But Aria knew Alaric was no ordinary follower of the stars. He wasn't like the monks in their gilded monasteries, reciting sermons and collecting donations. Alaric had transcended mortality through his connection to his constellation.

"Naturally, if you're able to hear the name of my constellation," Alaric said, kneeling beside her, "then you can choose it."

He reached out and plucked the Scarlet Azalea from the ground.

Choosing a constellation in the mortal world was a simple affair—one only needed to visit a priest, answer a few questions, and be assigned to one of the major constellations. Most people fell under the same few constellations, their paths set early in life. But Alaric's path was different. His faith required a far more intense questioning before it formed.

As he held the plant in his hand, the ring on his index finger glowed with a soft, bright light. A moment later, the Scarlet Azalea vanished, absorbed into the ring's magical storage. Aria had seen this countless times before, and each time, she couldn't help but feel a surge of envy.

Alaric wasn't just a monk—he was something more. His school, The Order of the Lightbearers, was renowned, though at present, it was just him and Aria. His connection to his constellation granted him abilities that seemed beyond human comprehension. The ring, which could store items, was just the beginning of the strange and powerful artifacts in his possession.

"Let's get going, shall we? I believe just a little farther ahead, and we'll see the entrance to Alderbrook," Alaric said, casually straightening his robes as he stood. He paid no mind to Aria's curious expression.

She knew better than to ask. He had made it clear he wouldn't reveal anything about how his powers worked until she found her own constellation.

Absently, she followed behind her master as he continued his leisurely pace forward, recalling the display she'd seen when she first began following him. To this day, she had no idea how deep his powers truly ran.

As she silently sized him up from behind, she couldn't help but wonder when she, too, would be able to awe the masses with incomprehensible magical abilities. To take to the skies and manifest power. To hold might, prestige, and—

"We've arrived," Alaric interrupted, startling her awake from her daydreams.