Foster watched the night sky from a hidden ledge in the royal forest. The stars shone faintly through the leaves of the gigantic trees, but his mind was fixed on just one thing: the royal ring. He knew that without this artefact, his mission to Fotiya would fail before it had even begun. But getting it was another matter altogether. The Queen was the most powerful being he had ever met, capable of detecting the slightest disturbance in her magical environment.
Foster knew that taking the ring from the Queen without arousing her suspicions was an absurdly audacious, almost suicidal task. Yet he had no other choice. Fotiya, the ancient city of the elves, held the seed of the World Tree, and he could not allow this opportunity to slip through his fingers.
The slightest misstep and he'd be exposed.
Foster had no one to turn to for help. He was alone with his knowledge of a past life, alone with the weight of the mission that could determine the future of this world. He tightened his fist, his gaze hardening. Failure was out of the question.
Foster had spent a lot of time studying the ring in his past life. The ring was a dazzling piece of gold art inlaid with a scarlet jewel, but it was not its beauty that was important but the waves of mana pulsing gently from the artefact, proof of his deep connection with the Queen. The replica he planned to make not only had to mimic the ring's appearance, but also temporarily imitate its magical aura.
His first step was to procure materials. He searched for mana-laden natural crystals deep in the forest, in an abandoned cave he knew from a previous life. Steel, necessary for the structure of the ring, was a difficult metal to work, but he went to the army workshop where the broken and useless weapons lay. He asked an elven blacksmith to melt the steel and create a mould. Later, Foster used his mana to heat the metal and shape it into a perfect copy, engraving runes directly onto the surface with extreme meticulousness. This stage took him several days to complete, and he had to practise to master the process completely and not cause the piece of metal to explode.
To replicate the magical aura, he used a technique he hadn't yet dared to try: he temporarily sealed part of his own mana into the replica ring. He knew that this would weaken his abilities for several days, but it was a necessary sacrifice.
When the replica was finished, it was perfect to the naked eye and almost magically undetectable-provided the queen didn't examine it too closely. The aura around the ring should last three days at most.
- Now came the hard part: getting the original.
The first step was to memorise the queen's habits. For the previous three days, Foster had been watching silently from high up in the inner courtyard of the palace, hidden among the branches of the monumental trees that lined the perimeter. The queen wore her ring constantly: a fine, silver ring encrusted with an emerald crystal that sparkled with ancient mana. But he had noticed an important detail. Every evening, before immersing herself in her deep magical meditations, she would briefly remove the ring and place it on a small carved wooden altar in an alcove adorned with vines. During this short time, she seemed to concentrate entirely on the energy in the room and lowered her magical defences.
Foster spent the following nights studying the layout of the palace. He mentally mapped the less frequented passages and the points where he could avoid the patrolling guards.
The critical moment arrived. The moon bathed the city in a silvery glow as Foster discreetly entered the palace corridors, his footsteps perfectly silent. He moved towards the alcove where the altar was placed, his senses on full alert. He could feel the mana emanating from the walls, almost palpable, like a net ready to envelop him if he made a single mistake.
He crouched down nearby, hidden behind an engraved column. There, he activated the enchanted stone by releasing a tiny wave of mana. Immediately, he felt a disturbance in the air. The Queen, meditating in an adjacent room, turned her head abruptly. Foster held his breath as she stood up, her piercing gaze sweeping the room. She murmured an incantation, and a thin filament of green energy shot from her fingers, tracing a direct trajectory towards the decoy stone.
Taking advantage of the diversion, Foster emerged from his hiding place. He glided to the altar in a few steps, his heart beating furiously. The ring glinted faintly in the moonlight, resting on a silky cloth. With one fluid movement, he took out a replica of the ring that he had forged from a piece of silver found in the palace workshops. He exchanged the two objects in a split second, using a technique he had learnt in his previous life.
Just as he stepped back, he heard a slight noise behind him. The queen was returning, her footsteps as silent as those of a predator. Foster pressed himself against a wall, blending into the shadows. He saw her examine the altar with a critical eye, but the illusion seemed perfect. After a moment, she returned to her meditation.
Foster waited until she was out of sight before slipping away along the same path. He picked up the decoy stone as he passed, erasing all trace of his intrusion. When he reached the edge of the forest surrounding the palace, he felt an immense weight lift from his shoulders. The ring lay in his hand, its emerald pulsing faintly like a beating heart.
Foster had to get a head start, because the queen would soon realise that she was on to him.
Foster shuddered at the thought.