Oriana returned to her guest mansion after her visit to Arlan. As she freshened up while lying on the bed, her mind buzzed with nurous questions. Unable to find solace in sleep, she eventually resorted to sending a magical ssage to Yorian.
After a while, the elf materialized in her chamber, as was his usual habit, taking his place on the window sill. A playful smirk adorned his face as he remarked, "Isn’t it rather untily for the Crown Princess to summon a man at this late hour of the night?"
Oriana rose from the bed, her tone cold as she retorted, "You are not a man to , but an ancient elf. It’s perfectly acceptable to summon you here."
Yorian raised an eyebrow, teasingly asking, "What if this ancient elf entertains a different notion?"
She folded her hands in front of her chest, a wicked smirk playing on her lips. "He would find himself swiftly regretting it."
Leaping from the floor, he approached her with a serious deanor, a departure from his usual playful nature. His eyes, usually filled with lightness, now held an intense gaze. "Do you truly believe you can?"
Oriana hadn’t anticipated him taking her words seriously and shifting his mood so abruptly. Feeling a hint of threat, she observed his tall figure advancing towards her. It dawned on her that perhaps she shouldn’t playfully provoke this elf, who could sotis transform into a completely different entity.
Taking a step back, she said, "I was rely jesting. How could a re witch like withstand the might of an ancient elf like you?"
He continued his approach, his deanor unwavering. "Why don’t you give it a try?"
She offered an awkward smile as she stepped back, saying, "Hehe, I am just a child. You elderly people should not mind my words."
Yorian, seemingly unfazed by her attempt to yield, halted and leaned down, bringing his face closer to hers, his eyes locking onto her puzzled and anxious expression. "You really should cease challenging , Oriana," he warned. "You won’t know when I might take it seriously. I’m not the saint you perceive to be."
She gulped nervously, shifting her face back slightly to create more distance. "Apologies."
"There’s a reason you’re being spared," he asserted, his tone carrying a veiled threat. "So you better not test my patience."
Oriana nodded involuntarily, realizing she had chosen an inopportune mont to display her arrogance. Despite her discomfort, curiosity got the better of her. "What reason?"
Yorian maintained his intense gaze. "Simple," he replied, moving back. "You have to be well-prepared to confront that evil witch. This ti, I’ll spare you for your insolence." His eyes bore into hers with a warning, "You are not allowed to lose to that witch at any cost."
Oriana pressed her lips into a thin line, feeling a twinge of displeasure at his provocation and his air of superiority. However, she acknowledged the necessity of his assistance and the power he wielded. Gratitude overshadowed her irritation.
"I won’t lose," she asserted confidently, observing him walk towards the couch and elegantly take a seat.
His face and tone remained serious. "I appreciate your recklessness, but in this final battle, I won’t appreciate it. You need to be calculated and smart, putting aside that reckless and arrogant attitude of yours."
"I will keep that in mind," she replied, adopting the tone of an obedient young girl, clearly subdued by this unexpectedly dominant elf.
Yorian shifted his focus. "How did the talk with Prince Arlan go?" he inquired.
Oriana composed herself and took a seat in the chair. "I inford him about today’s events and offered my assistance in defeating the witch, except for the fact that I am a black witch."
"And what was his response?"
"He agreed."
An eyebrow raised on the elf’s face. "Agreed, just like that?"
She nodded. "Surprisingly, yes."
’So unlike him,’ Yorian pondered, ’What is he planning? I need to keep an eye on him.’
Noticing Yorian’s serious expression, Oriana asked with concern, "What’s wrong?"
He snapped back to attention and shook his head. "Nothing. Tell why you called here. What’s troubling you?"
Oriana spoke, "I’ve been thinking about that witch."
"What is it?"
"Today, when she took my blood and even after I hard her, I sensed sothing was amiss with her body," Oriana began, "I an, obviously, there is sothing wrong with her body that she is so desperate to switch bodies, but there’s sothing more to it. I felt an energy around her, as if sothing was slowly consuming the existence of her body, a different magic not of the black variety but pure magic," Oriana explained. "I’ve been wondering what my mother exactly did to her. Was my mother holding any other magical abilties, affecting the witch beyond re entrapnt?"
She waited for Yorian, who appeared deep in thought. After a pause, he looked at her and said, "I suspect, besides your mother, soone else used their magic on that witch, as you described."
"Soone else?" Oriana was surprised. "Who else could possess magical abilities at that ti? My grandfather, maybe his blood..."
Yorian shook his head. "I sensed no such ability in your grandfather, and given that your mother is his daughter, it’s highly unlikely she had such powers. We already have more clues about your mother being a human only."
"Then what did my mother do to trap that witch? How did she use her blood if not for magical ability?"
"We need to find out, but based on your conversation with the Queen, she ntioned that your special bloodline is ant to protect what’s inside Prince Arlan. That ans your bloodline could also control it. Since the witch drank Arlan’s blood, your mother could control her. I’m not entirely sure how to piece it all together, but one thing is certain: soone else was there, casting magic on that witch to affect her body. It seems more like that person had punished this witch in this way."
"Who could it be?"
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