"How much strength do the elves still have to resist?" Tom asked, watching the other closely. "Three hundred thousand, perhaps?"
The elf across from him gave a small, dismissive shake of his head. "Even if we gathered every elf, we wouldn't reach such a number. But you should tread carefully."
"No," Tom murmured, his eyes narrowing. "I have a sense that something significant is brewing."
"Your blessing is foresight, then?"
"No, it's just experience." He sighed. "The longer this drags on, the more unpredictable variables we'll see. I'm planning to send scouts at dawn to track their movements and prepare a strike by nightfall."
—
Enola sat alone, her mind consumed by a simple yet daunting thought: What right did she have?
What right did she have to take the place of those who'd fallen? What right did she have to believe she could end a conflict that had raged for centuries with a single word? Her heart, once steadfast, now faltered, shadows of doubt creeping in, a vulnerability she hadn't allowed himself to feel.
Behind her, Nisha watched in quiet support. She believed he would rise from this moment of doubt. Despite his current weakness, she knew her inner strength would eventually guide her forward.
Further back, An kept a watchful eye on her sister. As protective as she was perceptive, An knew Nisha's feelings were pure and simple. She'd always keep Nisha safe from anyone who dared disrupt her gentle sister's happiness.
—
"You're sending me somewhere?" He turned to face the old man behind him. Though a bit displeased, he took a sip from his cup before asking, "Where to?"
"The border between elves and humans."
He raised an eyebrow, then drained the cup in a single gulp and set it down with a soft clink. "Fine. Whatever I want, is that it?"
The old man's shoulders relaxed in a relieved sigh. "Yes, anything you wish."
The man nodded, absorbing the freedom he'd just been granted.
—
Aegnor looked out the window, counting silently, his fingers tapping the windowsill. The day he'd been waiting for was near.
"Tsk, no calendar in this place?" He muttered as he rummaged through the clutter on his desk, searching for anything to confirm the date. But what did time really mean here?
"Forget it. Might as well do it now."
He moved to an old figure that had once been a heroine, reaching for a gem embedded in her back. With a sharp twist, he pried it free and dropped it to the floor, where it shattered with a crack.
A surge of energy pulsed through the air; his's magic felt darker, fiercer than ever before. Across the land, Rosa froze, feeling the shift. She scanned the room, but everyone was too preoccupied with preparations for the looming human-orc battle to notice the flicker of change in a young girl.
—
Olivier's notebook lay beside An's on the windowsill, pages fluttering in the breeze. If anyone had been there to see, they might have noticed an intriguing connection in the words scattered across the two books.
If one were to take the first word from An's notes and combine it with the first from Olivier's, a new message would form in Elvish, a message that seemed to echo the order he had once seen in his memories. In the notes, Aegnor was first, and Olivier came last.
—
Another bright day dawned, and the adventurer lay sprawled on his bed, staring at the sky through his window. It looked the same as the day before, but today the streets bustled with urgency, as if a storm of change were sweeping through.
What did he care?
With hatred no longer gnawing at him, all he wanted now was to stay in bed, to rest.
But still, something tugged at him, a question he couldn't escape.
What had he lost?
"Do we really have to uphold the agreement?" The dark-skinned elf looked skeptically at his companion. "We don't have to, you know."
"It's an agreement," replied the lead elf, shaking his head. "We accepted it, and that means we should honor their request."
"I just don't see the point."
"There's no need to understand." The leader kept his gaze forward, his voice steady. "It's a simple exchange. They gave us what we needed, so we give them what they asked for."
—
Olivier sat beside the massive magic circle, still puzzled even after a long night. He couldn't fathom why the other side was so fixated on displaying the land's vitality. But he dismissed the thought, it was time to act, not analyze.
Rising, he pulled away the cloth covering his face. The people around him froze at first, and then, upon recognizing him, their faces hardened.
Weapons were drawn all around him. Olivier calmly loosened the long belt tied behind him, his fingers nimbly gripping an arrow. The last location had been dealt with; now it was time to head back.
Yet the uneasy feeling gnawing at him was stronger than ever.
—
"Village Chief, are we really doing this?"
The elder, known as the village chief, glanced at the speaker without responding. He had already made the decision. The elf they were aiding carried royal blood, a descendant of the very people who had once led their ancestors out of ruin.
"This isn't blind loyalty or old-fashioned allegiance," he finally replied, voice firm. "It's repayment. If it weren't for that elf's ancestors, our numbers would be only in the tens of thousands today. We'd have never reached millions, even though that history is now long past."
"But I've heard whispers, that the traitor once worked with them!" his companion persisted, nervous.
"The first part of the agreement forbids us from killing each other," the village chief said, his eyes narrowing with a hint of sadness. "But there's a second part too, though it's been conveniently forgotten by those blinded by rage."
—
"Do you remember?" the old man asked, leaning back in his chair as the early morning light spilled through the window.
His grandson had fallen asleep hours ago, but he continued speaking quietly, his voice carrying a familiar refrain. "Trust all allies who prove worthy of your trust."
Closing his book softly, he stood up, his body frail and a bit unsteady. Outside the window, the sunlight illuminated a row of statues; eight in total, each one a commemoration of those they had trusted and honored.
—
"Please, take care of yourself." The elf standing on the mountainside bowed solemnly to her before turning to leave.
She nodded, not stopping him. The elf joined the others, each carrying a pack down the winding path off the mountain. Flowers had been placed in front of a nearby gravestone, each bloom a testament to memory and respect.
Further down the mountain path, hidden from view, a lone figure lingered, watching the group depart.
—
After knocking out the last of his foes, Olivier wiped the sweat from his brow and took a final look at the magic circle. With a decisive move, he dismantled it, rendering the other side's work useless.
"That should take care of it," he said, satisfied.
Like the other seven villages before, he had dealt with the threat and explained the situation to the people. With that, he set off for home, the light of the magic circle intensifying briefly before fading out, its power source destroyed.
Elsewhere, a frustrated old man surveyed the ruins of yet another broken magic stone.
"Maybe the total power is just too large," someone suggested, trying to appear helpful. "It can only transfer in small amounts."
"And just how small is 'small'?" the old man grumbled.
"Consider starting with two cities at a time," they recommended.
Sighing, the old man nodded reluctantly. This was his best option for now.