Without wasting a second, Gondor began the delicate task of removing the pulse. From his assessnt, this pulse hadn’t been placed there—it had grown. The ooze that had burned Kael’s side had sohow evolved into it. But how? Gondor didn’t know. And that uncertainty gnawed at him.
Lyria, despite his repeated attempts to dissuade her, refused to leave Kael’s side.
"You sure you want to stay for this?" Gondor asked again, pausing his work to glance at her.
"How many more tis are you going to ask that?" Lyria’s voice was firm, almost exhausted from repeating herself. "I told you—I’m not leaving his side. Whether this works or not, I’ll be here."
"As you wish," Gondor sighed, resuming his careful prodding around the pulsating growth. After a mont, his curiosity got the better of him. "If you don’t mind asking... who is he to you?"
"Just a childhood friend, that’s all," Lyria replied quickly, her gaze suddenly fixated on the floor.
Gondor chuckled under his breath. "You humans are always lying to yourselves, even when the truth is staring you dead in the face."
"What did you say?" Her head snapped up.
"Your eyes," he murmured, not stopping his work, "they betray you, Lyria."
Her eyes widened. "What’s that supposed to an?"
"Ever since you sought my help, I’ve noticed the way you look at him—with such tenderness. I would’ve sworn you two were lovers."
"Huh? No way. That’s impossible. We’re just... close childhood friends," she stamred, her cheeks rapidly flushing red as she scrambled to deny his words.
"You can lie to . You can lie to the world. But never lie to yourself." Gondor’s voice softened, yet it carried the weight of ancient wisdom. "Lying to oneself is like cutting a wound so deep most never heal from it."
Silence stretched between them.
"I’m sure," Gondor continued, "if he were awake, he’d probably deny it too... and then you two would argue endlessly about it."
A small, wistful smile crept onto Lyria’s lips. "Yeah... we probably would."
Sothing—sothing she had buried deep—began to stir within her, awakened by Gondor’s words.
Gondor resud his careful attempts to dislodge the pulse, fully aware that his thods were futile. He had hoped Lyria would eventually succumb to exhaustion and sleep, giving him the chance to use magic without revealing his secret. After all, it wasn’t like he was bound to save Kael at all costs.
"Hey, Gondor... it’s almost sunrise," Lyria murmured, her voice laced with worry. "That thing hasn’t budged an inch. Are you sure... can this really be removed?"
Gondor paused, his tools resting in his hands. "Its removal is possible. But... not by these thods."
Her heart sank. "You an—"
"Yes."
"Then why... why have you been playing around like this?" Lyria’s frustration boiled over. Her hand tightened around the hilt of her sickle. "Is Kael just so toy to you?!"
"It’s not like that, Lyria. Please, just calm down and listen to —"
"Why should I? All you’ve told so far are half-truths!"
"Because," Gondor said quietly, "if I had told you everything from the start, I wasn’t sure you wouldn’t kill where I stood."
"Why would I draw my blade against a mage?" Her grip slackened as her senses began to return.
Gondor sighed and set down his scissors and cutting blade. He crossed the room to the window, the dawn’s pale light brushing against his face.
"What aren’t you telling , Gondor?"
"Tell , Lyria... do you truly believe only humans and beasts exist in this world?"
"Of course. Any other beings would’ve been docunted by the guild or the archives of Celestis Rise."
"I see."
"Why ask that?" she pressed, her brow furrowed.
"I needed to be sure of sothing." His gaze lingered on the horizon before shifting back to her. "For Kael’s sake, I’ll answer all your questions... after the pulse is removed."
"Fine," she said, folding her arms.
Without another word, Gondor closed his eyes and began to chant.
"Mun pas gyog pa tham cad dang,
Dawa’i ö kyi gyog pa’i drib kun,
Nge kyi lü la nang wa tön,
Gang yin pa de ngön par char."
A green smoke rose from the ground, swirling around him like a living shroud. At its center, Lyria could see only the faintest erald glow. Gondor’s voice—now echoing in an ancient tongue—danced between the rising chants and a sound that made her blood run cold.
It was the sound of bones snapping and reshaping.
Frozen, wide-eyed, she could only watch as the smoke thickened, obscuring Gondor entirely. The unfamiliar syllables rolled off his tongue, and the green light pulsed like a heartbeat.
When the smoke finally cleared, Lyria gasped.
"What... what are you?" she stamred, struggling to process what stood before her.
He was no longer the man she knew. Barely four inches tall now, with smooth, silky skin, pointed ears, glowing green eyes, and in his grasp—a small but intricately carved wooden staff.
"I am neither human... nor beast."
"That doesn’t exactly answer my question."
"We agreed. Healing first. Questions later," Gondor said, his now tiny voice steady as he turned back to Kael.
He pointed his staff at the wound and began another chant.
"Chö chen tham chä kyé wa dang den pa,
Mün pa dang ngen song la dang wé dra,
Nge kyi lü di ngen pé dzin pa lay,
Drol war dzé du sol."
Within minutes, the pulsing growth dissolved, shriveling and dying under the weight of Gondor’s magic. Though the black veins remained, as he warned, they too would fade—but not vanish imdiately.
"There. The easy part’s done," Gondor said, his voice laced with exhaustion. "Now the hard part... praying he wakes up."
Lyria’s legs nearly gave out beneath her. Confusion, shock, relief—her body trembled beneath the tidal wave of emotions crashing through her. Silent tears streaked down her face.
From the very beginning, she knew what Gondor did wasn’t a guaranteed solution. But she had chosen to take that chance.
Now, all she could do was wait... and hope she made the right choice.
Gondor’s voice gently pulled her back. "Now then... while we wait... I’m sure you have questions for ?"
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