The air around Martha's mansion had grown colder in the days following their return from Roslyn's home. The tension in the house was stifling, with Tobien maintaining his usual aloof arrogance. Jargien remained quiet, his hatred for his father festering silently.
Late one evening, as the household prepared to retire, a guest arrived unannounced. The sound of hooves echoed in the courtyard, followed by the creak of a carriage door. A tall man clad in fine imperial attire stepped out, his bearing regal and imposing. It was Prince Valen, a distant cousin to the emperor and a man infamous for his decadence.
Tobien greeted him at the door with exaggerated warmth, ushering him inside. "Your Highness, welcome to my humble abode. Come, let us drink to your health."
The prince smirked, his piercing blue eyes scanning the grand but cold interior. "I trust you have prepared suitable hospitality, Lord Tobien."
"Of course," Tobien said, leading him into the dining hall, where the servants hurriedly arranged a spread of fine wine and delicacies.
Martha, observing from the shadows of the hallway, felt a chill run down her spine. She recognized the prince's reputation and knew no good could come of his presence. She quickly returned to her room, keeping Jargien close.
Hours later, as the moon hung high in the sky, a servant knocked on Martha's door. She opened it cautiously, finding a young maid who stammered nervously, "M-my lady, Lord Tobien has requested your presence in the dining hall."
Martha frowned, dread curling in her stomach. "At this hour? For what purpose?"
"I... I don't know, my lady," the maid said, avoiding her gaze.
Martha instructed Jargien to stay in the room and hurriedly made her way to the hall. There, she found Tobien and Prince Valen seated at the table, their laughter ringing through the room. The air was heavy with the scent of wine and smoke.
"Martha," Tobien said, his tone cold despite the forced smile on his lips. "Come here."
She hesitated but stepped forward, her eyes narrowing as she noticed the prince's predatory gaze fixed on her.
"I have a favor to ask of you," Tobien began, his voice deceptively smooth. "Prince Valen has taken an interest in you. He desires your company tonight."
Martha stiffened, her disgust clear. "You cannot be serious."
Tobien's expression darkened. "I am deadly serious. This is not a request, Martha. It is an order."
"Over my dead body," she spat, stepping back.
The prince chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Fiery. I like that. But perhaps you should reconsider, my lady. Your defiance could cost more than you're willing to pay."
"What are you saying?" Martha asked, her voice trembling with controlled fury.
Tobien leaned closer, his eyes cold. "If you do not comply, I will have your son killed. Do not test me, Martha."
Her blood ran cold. The room seemed to spin as she processed his threat.
Martha returned to her room with her heart pounding. Jargien looked up at her, sensing her distress.
"We're leaving," she whispered, gathering a small bag and pulling Jargien close. "Quickly and quietly."
They slipped out of the house through a servants' entrance, but their escape was quickly noticed. Within moments, shouts erupted behind them.
"Stop them!" Tobien's voice roared through the night as knights mounted their horses to give chase.
Martha clutched Jargien's hand tightly as they ran into the dense forest that bordered the estate. The trees provided some cover, but the sound of hoofbeats grew closer with each passing second.
Martha stumbled into a clearing, her breath ragged. Jargien's small hand was still in hers, and she pushed him behind her as the prince, Tobien, and their knights caught up.
"Well, well," Prince Valen sneered, dismounting his horse. "You've made quite a spectacle of yourself, Lady Martha."
Tobien stepped forward, his sword drawn. "Enough games, Martha. Hand over the boy and come quietly."
Martha's eyes darted to Jargien, who was kicking and screaming as two knights held him back.
"Leave my mother alone!" Jargien shouted, his voice shrill with desperation.
The prince grabbed Martha's arm, his grip bruising. "You're mine now, whether you like it or not."
But Martha's hand moved swiftly, seizing the dagger from the prince's waist. Her eyes met Jargien's, filled with an unspoken apology.
"Be strong, my son," she whispered.
Before anyone could react, she plunged the dagger into her stomach, blood blooming across her dress as she collapsed to the ground.
For a moment, there was only silence as everyone stared in shock at Martha's lifeless body.
Then, a figure emerged from the shadows, cloaked in black and moving with a supernatural grace. A woman with piercing eyes knelt beside Martha, her face stricken with sorrow.
"I'm too late," the woman murmured, her voice trembling.
Tobien stepped forward, his sword raised. "What are you doing here, master?"
The woman ignored him, turning to Jargien. With a single gesture, the knights holding him were flung backward by an unseen force. She scooped the boy into her arms, cradling him as he sobbed.
She then turned back to Martha's body, lifting it gently.
"You cannot take her," Tobien growled.
The woman's eyes burned with fury. "You have no power over me, Tobien. And you will pay for what you've done."
As she began to vanish into the shadows, Tobien shouted after her. "I will find you, master! I will bring her back!"
The forest fell silent once more, the prince and knights standing in stunned silence as the mysterious figure disappeared, taking Martha and Jargien with her.
*
The elf carried Jargien through the dense wilderness, her movements swift and silent. The forest seemed to come alive around them, the ancient trees towering into the sky, their gnarled branches forming a thick canopy that filtered the moonlight into soft, ethereal beams. The boy clung to her, his small frame trembling with rage and grief, his eyes swollen from crying.
She said nothing as they traveled, her footsteps light and deliberate on the forest floor. Animals watched from the shadows, their glowing eyes curious but unafraid. The air grew cooler as they ventured deeper into the wilds, far from the reaches of human lands.
After hours of travel, they arrived at a clearing where an enormous tree stood, its trunk a marvel of nature. The base of the tree was at least fifty meters in diameter, its roots sprawling like veins across the forest floor. High above, nestled among the thick branches, was a grand wooden structure—a house built into the tree itself. Warm light spilled from the windows, casting a golden glow against the night.
The elf touched her hand to the trunk, murmuring something in an ancient tongue. A section of the tree creaked and shifted, revealing a spiraling staircase carved into the wood. She began to ascend, carrying the boy gently but firmly.
The house atop the tree was vast yet cozy, its walls lined with bookshelves filled with tomes and scrolls. Artifacts of ancient origins adorned the shelves and tables, and the scent of herbs and wood filled the air. The soft hum of magic seemed to linger in every corner.
The elf set Jargien down on a plush chair near the fireplace. He refused to meet her gaze, his small hands clenched into fists. She knelt before him, her sharp, ethereal features softened by a look of deep sorrow.
"I know your pain, child," she said softly, her voice melodic but tinged with sadness. "But you must rest now. You are safe here."
Jargien shook his head, his voice breaking. "I want my mother back! Why didn't you save her?"
The elf's eyes glistened, but she remained composed. "I was too late," she said, her voice heavy with regret. "But I promise you this—her sacrifice will not be in vain.
The next morning, beneath the massive tree, the elf and Jargien prepared to lay Martha to rest. A small clearing near the tree's roots served as her final resting place. The elf used her magic to shape the earth, creating a serene grave surrounded by wildflowers.
Jargien stood beside her, holding a bouquet of freshly picked flowers. His face was pale, his eyes hollow. The tears had stopped, but the storm of emotions within him was far from over.
As the elf lowered Martha's body into the ground, Jargien fell to his knees beside the grave, clutching the flowers tightly. He whispered to his mother, his voice trembling. "I'll make them pay, Mother. I promise."
The elf placed a hand on his shoulder, her touch light yet firm. "Your path will not be easy, young one. But I will guide you, if you will let me."
Jargien didn't respond, his gaze fixed on the grave as the elf used her magic to cover it with soil.
Days turned into weeks, and the boy became eerily quiet. He spent hours sitting at the edge of the massive tree's roots, staring into the forest. His grief and anger simmered beneath the surface, but he spoke little, his once vibrant expressions replaced by a stoic mask.
The elf watched him carefully, giving him space while preparing for what she knew was to come. She saw in him a fire—one that could either consume him or forge him into something greater.
One evening, she approached him where he sat beneath the tree, the moonlight casting silvery shadows across his face.
"Jargien," she said gently, sitting beside him. "Your pain is great, but you must learn to harness it. If you dwell only in anger, it will destroy you."
He looked up at her, his young face hardened beyond his years. "I don't care. I just want to destroy them."
The elf's expression grew solemn. "Then you must become stronger. But strength without wisdom is as dangerous as the enemies you seek to destroy. Will you trust me to teach you?"
Jargien hesitated, his small hands gripping the grass beneath him. Finally, he gave a small nod.
"Good," the elf said, a hint of relief in her voice. "Your journey begins here, Jargien. You are far more than you know. And when the time comes, you will have the power to change everything."