The cobblestone floor shimmers under the faint light. My head is heavy, and I realize it's not the stone—it's wet with my tears. I thought I had no more left to shed, but here they are, pooling beneath me.
Alondra's laughter continues to ring in my ears, sharp and mocking, but it feels distant now, like a cruel echo of the person I thought she was.
Why? Why is this happening to me?
Her laughter fades, and the silence feels suffocating. I force myself to look up, just a little, though I can't bring myself to meet her eyes.
"Did you really think I cared about those stupid orphans?" Her voice is sharp, biting, like a blade slicing through whatever hope I had left. "Running an orphanage is the easiest way to skim lifespan. Oh, all those donations! How lovely they were."
She tilts her head, her violet eyes gleaming with a madness I've never seen before. This isn't the Alondra I knew—or thought I knew.
Before I can speak, she unfastens her cloak and lets it fall to the floor. Slowly, deliberately, she pulls her shirt back just enough to reveal her timer.
42 years.
"Thanks for the free fifteen, idiot!" she says, her voice dripping with mockery, before bursting into laughter again. The sound grates against my ears, hollow and cruel.
I can't breathe. My stomach churns. My words are trapped in my throat, strangled by the realization of what she's saying.
"Oh, it was so easy too," she continues, waving her hand like this is all some grand joke. "You see, there's this prophecy—some big, dramatic thing about a black-haired man with zero magical affinity. Apparently, he'll show up with 100 years on his timer, become the Dark Deity, and destroy all five great kingdoms. Scary, right?"
Her tone is playful, mocking. She shrugs casually. "But honestly? It's been 500 years. No Dark Deity, no destruction, no nothing. You fit the description, sure, but look at you." She gestures at me, her lip curling. "A pathetic crybaby who can't even stand up for himself. What's someone like you going to destroy? A bowl of soup?"
Her laughter bubbles up again, sharp and cruel, but she cuts it off with a smirk. "But hey, all I needed was the idea of you fitting the prophecy to get things rolling. And guess what?"
She leans in, her voice dropping to a cold whisper. "All I had to do was leak that information to Tsuki. Just a few carefully chosen words, and he brought it straight to Prince Ramidion. One little spark, and the whole fire lit itself."
My breath catches, and I stare at her, unable to process what I just heard.
"You…" My voice is barely a whisper.
Her grin widens, her violet eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Oh, come on, Solice. Don't act so surprised. You're nothing but a pawn in a bigger game. Always were.".
Her laughter abruptly cuts off, and her expression hardens. She takes a step closer, her smile remaining but cold now, like a mask. "The real reason I'm here is simple: I need you to choose exile."
I blink, unsure if I heard her right.
"Go ahead, be a hero," she says, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. "Take the exile option. Your lifespan will be 'donated' to the poor Kepanasan Church. For the children, of course!"
She presses a hand to her chest, feigning a heartbroken expression. "So tragic, isn't it? But don't worry—I'll be in charge of 'distributing' the lifespan. A noble cause, wouldn't you agree?"
My heart sinks further, the faint ember of hope that she might regret this betrayal snuffed out in an instant.
Her kindhearted facade cracks, and her grin turns sinister. "Make the right choice, Solice."
She bends down, snatches up her cloak, and slings it over her shoulder. As she straightens, her face shifts back into the warm, caring expression she wore when we first met—the elf who saved my life in the forest.
"Ha ho!" she chirps, cheerfully mocking the greeting the locals use, and walks away without looking back.
The door closes with a heavy thud, leaving me alone in the silence.
I don't move. I can't. My mind is racing, spiraling into chaos, trying to piece together the shattered fragments of what I just heard. None of it makes sense.
My timer ticks down in the corner of my vision. 82 years of life still left—but for what? For lies? For betrayal?
I press my forehead to the cold stone floor, trying to find something solid to hold onto, but there's nothing.
No answers.
No hope.
Just the sound of my breath and the distant echo of her laughter ringing in my ears.