The spirit, summoned by the pixies, towered gracefully, his height reaching six feet more. his long, lustrous golden hair cascading like a waterfall of sunlight over elegant robes that swirled around him like a gentle breeze. His majestic presence was crowned by a whimsical circlet of wood, its distinctive spikes giving him an air of both authority and intimidation. Yet, despite this striking facade—the softness of his delicate features sparkled with kindness, creating a delightful contrast to the intensity that surrounded him.

What a handsome individual, he's practically glowing under the sunlight. The girl was mesmerised by the sight of the spirit's sapphire blue eyes that resembled the clear and pristine morning sky, perfectly complementing his olive-toned skin. His roman nose and chiseled jawline bestowed an air of regal elegance, while his flowing, verdant robes wrapped around him like a gentle embrace of nature, enhancing the magnificent aura that surrounded him.

“Are you going to keep silent and simply gaze at me like a curious statue?” The spirit’s voice danced through the air, tinged with a playful impatience that pulled the girl from her reverie. She blinked, her thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind, and turned her full attention back to the enchanting figure before her.

“Oh! Um, I have no intention of corrupting or destroying anything!” The girl gasped, her words tumbling out in a flurry of surprise and fluster. Caught off guard by the spirit’s remarks, she took a moment to gather herself, her thoughts swirling like autumn leaves.

He doesn't look like he believes me. The girl mused, her thoughts fluttering like butterflies in her mind. She found it difficult to meet the gaze of the figure, whose eyes sparkled with an authoritative energy that enveloped them like a shimmering cloak.

The spirit’s gaze drifted to her arms, where ominous-looking veins meandered up to her elbows like shadowy vines. His expression shifted from suspicion to a curious blend of confusion and skepticism. “...Is that so?” he inquired, his voice laced with a hint of doubt, as if he were trying to unravel a riddle wrapped in mystery.

"Your mere arrival here has already decimated half the forest life. Not to mention, your very existence emanates a strange, unfamiliar, and incompatible energy that clashes against the magic here." He gestured towards her awakening spot, clearly showing a large patch of decay and disruption all around in their immediate vicinity.

The spirit paused, his thoughts swirling like leaves in a gentle breeze as he contemplated his own words. “Much like someone I know...” he murmured, almost to himself—the phrase hanging in the air like a delicate whisper. He fell silent for a few moments, his brow furrowing in concentration as he pieced together the puzzle, seeking clarity in the tapestry of his thoughts.

He looks kind, but he's rather scary. The thought crossed her mind as she turned towards the once lush, green and vibrant environment that had now completely transformed and decayed. The sight of it sent a shiver down her spine and a knot of dread in her stomach, the realisation of her culpability and guilt sinking in had overwhelmed her.

"I'm sorry, but I don't have an explanation for that." The girl spoke with a soft yet regretful tone in her voice.

Baffled and confounded by her response, the spirit’s eyes danced with a kaleidoscope of emotions—tinges of irritation flickering like fireflies, but predominantly a curious confusion that sparkled like morning dew.

He's definitely suspicious of me. The girl thought, her heart fluttering like a startled bird. She averted her gaze as the air between them crackled with uncertainty.

He then arched an eyebrow, an intimidating challenge in his gaze—as if to say, “Are you quite certain?” His expression held a frosty edge.

Noticing the girl’s downturned eyes and the gentle tremor of her expression, the spirit realized she harbored no malice or mischief in her heart. Instead, fear flickered in her gaze, a delicate butterfly caught in a storm. His own stance—arms crossed and voice tinged with impatience—made him appear rather like a tempestuous cloud ready to burst.

As she offered a simple nod, he couldn’t help but lean forward, curiosity piqued despite his irritation. “Well then,” he asked abruptly, a spark of expectation lighting up his tone, “what explanation can you offer me?”

The girl responded with a simple shake of her head, appearing hesitant and unsure, "I... just woke up here."

A long sigh escaped the spirit’s lips, transforming his expression from one of fiery suspicion to a curious spark, like a candle flickering to life. He regarded the girl with a fresh gaze, as if he were peering through a misty window, reassessing her situation with a blend of disbelief and mild frustration.

After a moment of thoughtful pondering, he resolved to try a different approach. “Perhaps we’ve gone about this all wrong. My apologies, miss...?” The spirit offered a polite smile, his voice softening with newfound kindness that danced in the air like gentle music. Though the question seemed simple and light, his gaze told a different story.

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There was an unsettling depth in his eyes—as if the inquiry carried hidden layers, whispering secrets that danced just out of reach. She felt a shiver of unease ripple through her, a curious sensation that made her wonder if the question was more than just a desire for her name. Yet, she couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was, like a fleeting shadow that slipped through her fingers.

The girl could only stare back at him, a wave of guilt washing over her before the realization struck her like a playful breeze. “I... I don’t remember my name,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

A slight twitch of the spirit's eyebrow was noticed by the girl as he continued his questions. Yet with each of his probing queries, the girl only shook her head each time, failing yet again to provide any answer.

"Age?" The spirit asked again.

"Birthplace?"

"Family?"

The girl shook her head each time, her expression growing more dejected after each failed attempt at answering.

The spirit seemed momentarily at a loss for words, letting out a deep sigh that echoed like a gentle breeze through the trees. “You—” he began, striving to gather himself and adopt a more formal, respectful tone.

“I’m s-sorry... I really can’t remember anything.” As the girl’s admission floated into the air, the spirit caught a faint sniffle, and a sudden shift in energy enveloped them like a thick fog. He became acutely aware, his senses sharpening as he sensed that something was amiss.

A wave of mild guilt and frustration washed over him as he watched the girl teeter on the brink of tears. Sympathy tugged at his heartstrings; perhaps he had ventured too far with his probing questions and sharp words.

Aware that the girl appeared to be overwhelmed and upset, he sought to weave together inquiry and comfort in a delicate dance. With a soft, calming tone, he asked, "Do you carry an epithet that I may use to refer to you instead?"

"... What is that?" Her fragile voice betrayed a hint of breaking down as she spoke, her eyes growing glossy as she stared at him. The spirit was taken aback for a moment, unsure if he should continue to press the question or back off.

"It's technically a nickname, one that serves as a temporary name for you. However, that title can become permanent as well if you prefer it over whatever you were previously known as." The spirit's explanation seemed to provide some sense of relief to the girl, who seemed momentarily overwhelmed by the unfamiliar concept.

While the spirit's elaboration seemed to ease the girl's immediate distress and uncertainty, her mood quickly dampened as she replied, "No... I don't have an ep-epithet," with a sombre tone before letting out a heavy sigh and lowered her head.

A soft groan of frustration escaped the spirit's mouth as he face-palmed himself. Remorse washed over him for subjecting the girl to a barrage of interrogations and stressful questions. With a newfound resolve, he decided it would be best if he merely gave the girl a sobriquet instead.

After all, he thought, a touch of caution was wise, and surely he needed some sort of advantage in this curious situation. "Would it be alright if I gave you an informal title then? Calling you 'you', all the time would be impolite."

The girl's expression appeared to light up slightly at the request as she gave a soft nod in response, eager for any sort of name to cling to.

The small smile on the spirit's face was certainly captivating, complementing his overall enchanting aura. His blue eyes quickly danced about the surroundings, seemingly taking in everything before landing on a specific flower. "What about... Iris?"

The spirit's question had a subtle layer of mystery and interest wrapped up in it, perhaps leading to a deeper metaphor or symbolic significance.

The spirit's suggestion of "Iris" danced through the air, instantly capturing the girl's attention and weaving a thread of intrigue around her heart. It felt as though the name sparked a hidden ember within her, resonating with a sense of familiarity and significance, like a long-lost melody echoing in her mind. Yet, alongside this enchanting allure, a flicker of doubt fluttered in—something about the name felt just a tad askew, like a whimsical puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit.

Why do I feel like I've heard someone once calling me something similar? The duality of wonder and uncertainty twirled together in her thoughts, creating a delightful yet perplexing mixture of emotions.

The spirit's perception of disappointment from the girl made him momentarily pause. "Hm? You seem rather disappointed by that name. Do you dislike it?" To which the girl quickly shook her head with a doubtful expression.

“I like it!” she replied with a bright smile, her heart swelling with joy at the gift of a name, even if it was just a temporary treasure for now. The spirit’s expression softened instantly, a wave of relief washing over him at the sight of her cheerful reaction.

“My apologies; I’ve been rather rude,” he admitted, his voice tinged with sincerity. “It’s only fair that I introduce myself properly.” A hint of remorse flickered across his features as he reflected on his earlier behavior, feeling a twinge of guilt for his lack of civility.

With a flourish, he declared, “I am Argastal Cinlis Feymir, King of the Fairies.” His voice danced through the air like a playful breeze. The king extended his palm toward her, his gentle smile radiating warmth and charm, inviting her to join him in this whimsical dance of introductions. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he added, his eyes twinkling with delight.

The girl's eyes widened in fear and surprise as it darted to the fairy king's hand, realising that he was offering it out in goodwill. Yet she was well aware of her own capabilities and the power they may possess. Knowing her touch alone could lead to disastrous and devastating results.

The girl froze, afraid at the mere thought of accidentally causing more harm.