Racheal’s eyes lingered on the blazing fireball hovering before Jas, its glow painting her face in shifting orange light. His voice cut sharp through the silence.
"Who are you?"
Unperturbed, she straightened, her bow still loose at her side. "I am Racheal Morningstar, candidate for the ruler of the Great Tree Yggdrasil... and warrior of the Elven Path."
Jas faltered, the weight of her words leaving him more confused than reassured. Great Tree? Candidate? None of it made sense, but the conviction in her tone kept him from dismissing it outright.
Racheal didn’t grant him ti to unravel it. "Now that I have answered your question," she said evenly, "will you deactivate your spell?"
Jas’ gaze flicked between her and the figure lying unconscious on the bed. His brow furrowed. "And what of him? Who is he?"
"I don’t know," Racheal replied without hesitation, "but I believe he can tell us the whereabouts of your lord."
The room fell quiet, tense enough that the faint crackle of Jas’ fireball filled it like static. Racheal held her ground, erald eyes steady. She could have ended this quickly, knocking him out and removing the obstacle—but doing so would only tear apart what fragile trust could still be forged.
Jas lingered in silence, weighing her words. His jaw clenched, then slowly eased. At last, he let out a long breath. The fireball dimd, then dissolved into sparks, leaving the chamber darker without its glow.
"I’ve heard," Jas said quietly, his voice less sharp but still wary, "that elves are an honest people. I hope you won’t prove my belief wrong."
Racheal’s expression shifted, sothing unreadable flickering across her face. She did not speak of betrayal—of the kin who had already shattered that notion once. Instead, she inclined her head, her tone asured.
"You won’t regret this."
Jas nodded, though his eyes lingered on her with doubt. "I hope I won’t."
****
Racheal turned away from Jas, her attention shifting to the unconscious figure on the bed. From her inventory, she retrieved a slender vial entwined with tiny, root-like patterns. The glass shimred faintly, its contents clear as water, yet Jas’s eyes narrowed. He could tell imdiately, this was no ordinary concoction.
’That looks far more advanced than the healing potion Lord Leon gave us...’
The thought stayed unspoken, but the suspicion lingered in his gaze as Racheal uncorked the vial. A delicate fragrance swept through the room, fresh and vibrant, like spring carried on the wind. Jas’s guard wavered for a mont; even to him, the scent felt alive, almost holy.
Without hesitation, Racheal tilted the vial beneath the stranger’s lips and poured. The figure did not resist, throat working as he swallowed every drop. A soft gulp broke the silence.
"We’ll have to wait for so ti for it to take effect," Racheal said evenly, placing the empty vial aside.
It wasn’t a healing potion, since no wound marred the man’s body. This was sothing else: a stimulant, crafted to awaken dulled senses and rouse a body trapped in unconsciousness. It was Subtle, dangerous, and effective.
Her collection brimd with such curiosities. So of her potions could draw curious stares, others suspicion or even disgust, but who said an elf maiden couldn’t have her own private arsenal?
Minutes passed. The quiet pressed against the walls, broken only when Jas finally exhaled and turned toward the door. "I’ll inform the others," he muttered, as though seeking an excuse to leave her presence.
When he was gone, the room fell still again. Racheal sat alone, eyes fixed on the figure lying motionless before her, waiting.
****
As Racheal watched the figure’s still chest rise and fall, the faintest flicker of movent caught her eye. His eyelids fluttered, then slowly opened. This ti, she was ready. The strange pull those eyes carried earlier no longer swayed her, as her will held firm.
The man’s gaze lingered on her for a long mont before his lips curved faintly. "It’s good to see you again."
Racheal’s brows knit together, confusion slipping into her otherwise calm face. "Have we t before?"
Now it was his turn to look unsettled. "Do elves have short mories," he said, tilting his head, "or are you just pretending? I wouldn’t mistake you for soone else. Not with a face like that."
His certainty made no sense to her. Steeling her tone, she answered plainly, "I don’t believe we have t before. Because there’s no way I would forget soone this breathtaking."
The words fell from her tongue without a pause, and even when the weight of her own admission registered, she didn’t flinch. Instead, her expression remained shalessly steady, as if stating a fact.
For the first ti, doubt entered the man’s eyes. ’Isn’t she the one?’ the thought brushed against his mind, uneasy. He turned suddenly, catching his reflection in the narrow mirror standing in the corner of the room.
His eyes went wide. "Who the hell is that?"
Racheal blinked at him, caught off guard. For a heartbeat she said nothing, only studying the raw disbelief in his face. Then a worriso thought slid coldly through her mind.
’Will this person really be able to help us?’ she wondered. ’He doesn’t seem all that bright.’
****
Leon stood before the mirror, his reflection staring back at him with an unfamiliar sharpness. He leaned closer, tracing every detail with narrowed eyes. At first glance, nothing seed drastically altered, his fra, his features, the shape of his face all remained his own. Yet the change was undeniable. His hair, now with a purple glow at the edges, caught the light in a way it never had before, and his eyes... those violet irises shimred with an otherworldly gleam. Sohow, that alone reshaped him into soone entirely different.
"It doesn’t make any sense," he muttered. His jaw tightened as the thought rose unbidden. "Is it because of that fragnt...?"
The possibility hung heavy in the air. Still, he couldn’t deny the result. The reflection staring back at him was sharper, and handso in a way that outshone his past self. Leon had never shied away from admiring his own looks, narcissist through and through, but even he had to admit: his forr appearance didn’t compare to this.
With a sharp exhale, Leon raised his hand, summoning the one thing that could cut through the haze of uncertainty. His panel. The familiar translucent screen flared into view before him, filling the air with its faint hum.
As his gaze swept down the glowing text, his violet eyes widened, a cold shiver running down his spine.
"What... happened to my race?"
Reviews
All reviews (0)