Avince turned sharply toward the voice, his eyes narrowing as he searched for its source. Before him stood an imposing figure—a tall, graceful woman with radiant golden eyes that seemed to pierce right through him, and long, lustrous hair that gleamed like strands of sunlight. But it was her ears that truly caught his attention, elegantly tapered and unmistakably marking her as an elf.

“An elf?” he murmured, a mixture of awe and confusion churning in his mind.

The elf’s gaze swept over him, narrowing with suspicion. “This can’t be possible. The entrance to this dungeon was sealed ages ago.” Her voice was like a sharpened blade, each word precise and laced with mistrust. Avince felt an invisible force seize him, binding him in place like chains woven from air.

Instinctively, he struggled against the unseen hold, his muscles tensing as he tried to break free. The force only seemed to tighten in response.

“It’s futile to resist,” the elf said, her tone calm yet carrying a weight of authority that suggested resistance was not only pointless but insulting.

Realizing he was only wasting energy, Avince took a steadying breath. If he was going to get anywhere with her, he might as well be upfront. “I... I came here using my ability,” he admitted, forcing his voice to stay level under the intensity of her gaze.

Her eyebrow arched. “Explain,” she commanded, the word heavy with expectation.

Avince hesitated, feeling her stare probe deeper, almost as though she were reading his intentions as much as his words. Clearing his throat, he finally said, “It’s... an ability. I can enter dungeons with just my consciousness. I’m not actually here. Not completely.”

The elf’s face remained inscrutable, yet her eyes gleamed with a spark of intrigue. She tilted her head, her gaze slipping over him as if considering an odd and unexpected twist in an otherwise predictable scenario. After a moment, her lips curved slightly, though her smile held no warmth.

“So,” she said slowly, each word drawn out with a hint of amusement, “you have an ability to wander into places you cannot reach in body.” Her eyes narrowed, studying him as though he were a peculiar new variable in an otherwise simple equation. “Only your consciousness?”

Avince nodded, feeling the weight of her words and the curiosity in her expression. Her lips curved faintly, the barest hint of a smile as her interest sharpened.

“That would explain why you’re in a dungeon like this,” she murmured, her tone thoughtful. “One that should be impossible to enter…” Her gaze intensified, almost gleeful, as she leaned forward slightly, a hint of satisfaction slipping into her words. “Or leave.”

Avince’s spine prickled. “Impossible to leave?” he asked, his voice low but steady.

“Yes,” she replied coolly, her tone as unforgiving as stone. “This dungeon... it is a prison.”

He blinked, curiosity edging into apprehension. “A prison? What... or who is it keeping here?”

A wry smile played on her lips, as if the answer were obvious. “Why, me, of course.”

Avince frowned, trying to piece together the idea. “Why would anyone want to imprison someone like you?”

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Her eyes glinted, somewhere between amusement and bitterness. “I chose the wrong side in a war,” she said quietly, her voice laced with a shadowed pride. “And in this world, there are beings far more powerful than I. When you oppose such forces, this—” she gestured to the dense forest around them, “—is the kind of eternity they grant you.”

Avince felt an unexpected pang of sympathy. Whoever this elf was, she radiated a strength unlike anything he had ever encountered. Yet here she was, bound in a magical prison, locked away from the world.

As though sensing his thoughts, the elf gave a slight nod. “I am Althiel Solaris, a Sun Elf,” she said with a touch of pride. “And that is all you need to know of my past.”

“Althiel,” he repeated, the name resonating with an almost tangible weight of power.

Then a thought struck him, and he turned to her with a questioning look. “How are we able to understand each other, anyway? Do we...speak the same language?”

Althiel’s expression softened, almost amused. “No, we don’t. I’m using a spell that allows my intentions to be translated into words you can understand. And likewise, there’s another spell that translates your intentions into words I can comprehend in my own language.”

Her gaze then returned to him, studying him with fresh interest. “Tell me, young human, what exactly brings you here? Why would you go into a dungeon like this?”

Avince hesitated, feeling her curiosity cut through his defenses. But he chose his words carefully. “I came here to… temper myself. To train and grow stronger.”

Althiel’s lips quirked, faint amusement flitting across her face. “And that would work, even though only your consciousness is here?”

“It does,” Avince replied, calm and certain. Refusing to reveal anything else

She huffed, a flicker of curiosity in her gaze. “Fine, keep your secrets,” she said, though her eyes lingered on him, her interest clearly not fading. After a moment, her expression shifted, something deeper seeming to surface. “Tell me, then—how long has your world been... integrated?”

Avince blinked, momentarily thrown off. “Integrated? What does that mean?”

Althiel sighed, a shadow of impatience slipping into her voice. “You truly know nothing, do you?” She studied him intently, then rephrased, “How long have these dungeons existed in your world? And when did your kind first awaken abilities?”

Avince frowned, the odd phrasing of her question giving him pause. “Dungeons started appearing... It's been about a hundred years. Abilities started around then, too. Some people suddenly gained them, but most awakened later.”

Althiel’s face grew thoughtful, her gaze shifting as if she were lost in some distant memory. “I see,” she murmured, more to herself than to him. “So, you’re still in your world’s early stages. The integration is… recent.” Her gaze returned to him, sharper now. “Your people have only just begun to grasp the true nature of your world.”

Avince’s brow furrowed, frustration stirring in his chest. “What does that mean?”

Althiel met his gaze, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes—pity, perhaps, or amusement. “It’s too early for you to know,” she said, her tone softened by an odd, almost understanding finality. “Your world will discover it in time, as all integrated worlds eventually do. For now, just focus on surviving.”

She tilted her head, a faint curiosity lighting her eyes. “So tell me, then,” she asked, skepticism creeping into her tone, “how do you plan to leave this place? Does that little ability of yours grant an exit as easily as an entrance?”

Avince shrugged, confident in his understanding. “If my consciousness dies here, I’ll just be pulled out,” he replied calmly.

Her eyes glinted with curiosity, her intrigue intensifying. “You’re that certain? Willing to let your consciousness face death?”

He met her gaze, unwavering. “I know my ability. I’ve entered and left dungeons before.

She studied him a moment longer, intrigued. Her gaze lingered, and for a heartbeat, a thoughtful glimmer crossed her face. “What if…” She paused, as though weighing an idea, then continued with a spark of interest, “What if I were to train you myself?”

Avince blinked, his mind reeling. “Why would you want to do that?”

A shadow flickered across her face, though her tone remained light. “Let’s just say I’m… bored. And who knows? Perhaps one day you might be able to help me.”

Avince couldn’t tell if she was entirely serious, but the offer was tempting. Here stood an elf with a power beyond anything he’d ever encountered, offering to teach him.