[How’s your cold?]
The unread message loomed over the screen of Demund’s device. His eyes darted to the screen then back to his textbook as his hand continued to scribble down notes. The material was a little more difficult, but nothing he couldn’t understand when he put his mind to it. New things were fun, and the satisfaction he felt when he grasped the concepts of the textbook was addicting.
But he was distracted. He glanced over at his screen again.
He had woken up early as was usual for him. After eating, he had run a little and had begun his homework. Everything depended on consistent repetition; studying, exercising, reading—the main things that took up his time.
But his mind was on something else, and it tugged on him. When he had woken up, Demund’s memories had burst forth anew, making him remember his thoughts from a week ago with perfect clarity. He was used to it, but it was always fascinating, like emerging from a pool of murky water. Although it did come with the reminder of Enariss’s unusual situation.
He tapped his foot. She hadn’t replied for two hours, and the time was already nearing noon. Was she really ill? Or did she sleep for this long during weekends? She had never taken so long to reply to his messages, though they were few. She had been acting weird this past week.
All because of that hooded figure.
He put down his pencil. He wasn’t getting anywhere.
〄 〄 〄
Demund stood in front of the Zarke residence, his left, healthy leg supporting him and his bike. On his back was his backpack, but instead of his usual study materials that he brought over, there was a bottle of drink and two bags of chips that Enariss seemed to like. Maybe that would make the situation a little better.
However, he was frozen, still pondering on what to do. He was behind a wall, hidden from sight, next to the house’s doorbell. He glanced at his phone again. The most recent message of ‘I’m coming over’ was still unread. The sun was hot on his head, yet he stood there.
Had it been a good choice to come here? He wanted to make sure his friend wasn’t in any severe condition, but then again, maybe she wanted to be left alone. He looked at the clouds passing by overhead and groaned inaudibly.
Ah, let’s get this over with.
Without giving it additional thought, he pressed his finger against the doorbell of the house. There was a faint buzz at the back, and Demund moved himself over to where he could be seen.
The door opened, and the maid-lady came out.
“Hello! Is Enariss home?” Demund called out.
Recognizing his face, the lady replied with, “She went to a friend’s house last night!”
Demund thanked the lady and cycled away as casually as he could. Had this been the first time he had come here without telling Enariss beforehand? A part of him was relieved that Enariss wasn’t home, yet another part of him grew even more worried.
Was he…not someone who could be trusted?
He really wanted to help. He really did.
His mind fell into the past year. Come to think of it, he was always on the receiving side. Enariss had helped him exercise, study, recover, had spent time with him despite his shortcomings. Besides the scarf he had given her on Christmas…what had he given her?
Did she even enjoy hanging out with him?
Demund slapped his cheeks. It was bad to think so negatively. They were friends, and that was that. If there was anything he learned from Jothan, it was that doubt would never lead to a beneficial ending. He didn’t want to introduce cracks into their friendship.
After a few minutes of biking, he returned home. He headed upstairs and opened his books.
Enariss…sometimes, he got the feeling that they were living within different worlds. He would never reach where she was…unless he spent all his effort on improving himself.
If only he had Shaden’s body. If only he had his stamina, his control over mana, his infinite sense of adventure and glee, his two legs. If only, then he would be able to reach where she stood. But himself—this body that could only barely circulate (if it was indeed the same); Demund, whose only redeeming feature was his determination to work hard—was so lacking. So, so lacking.
He would build it up. It wasn’t as fast as Shaden’s rate of growth, but he would slowly, steadily go up. Study hard, graduate. Go to college, get a job, continue upwards.
Demund began to circulate. It helped clear up his mind, even if it lasted for only twenty minutes.
〄 〄 〄
After hours of work, Demund lay on the bed looking at the ceiling. His head felt numb from all of the reading, and he lacked motivation. Well, he believed that he deserved the break; he had been reviewing non-stop until now.
In his hand was the mechanical pencil that he always used. He stared at it, feeling the flow of mana emanating from his hand into the small structure. It felt like a part of himself, though his control over it felt less stable than that of his prosthetic leg.
Was it because it was taking up the space of something that had existed before? Spreading his mana into the leg always felt natural and smooth—almost like when Shaden did it. Because of that, he had been able to participate in the MMA Club matches for this long. It was only four matches in total, but he had only suffered one loss.
But his leg was currently unequipped, and instead, he was experimenting on his pencil. He curled his toes in frustration. It never felt the same, doing this with Demund’s body. It was an immense improvement compared to himself before the break, yet it was so lacking for him who had experienced something greater. He increased his mana flow but stopped almost immediately as a dull throb began to echo within his head.
He sighed and let his arm fall onto his bed. It was the same with magic. He could never manage to cast it. Nothing happened when he chanted the words, nothing emerged from his hands. Why? Why didn’t magic work in this world?
Some people in Demund’s world could shoot fireballs or ice from their bodies. Was that considered as magic?
“Demund! Dinner is ready!” called his mother from downstairs.
He blinked twice before getting up. Leaning against the walls of the house, he hopped downstairs.
〄 〄 〄
“Shaden.”
He felt a nudge on his shoulder and looked to his right, his thoughts disappearing into his subconsciousness.
“Hmm?”
Eilae’s normally calm-looking face had a frown on it.
“Are you ill?” she asked. “You look unwell.”
Shaden blinked once. “Ah. Yeah, I’m perfectly fine.”
After his aunt had taken a quick trip to the bank, the group was now touring the streets of Ofphlendum on a fancy boat-like vehicle with wheels. Powered by mana, it needed no animals to pull it. But unlike a car, it was made out of wood and lacked gears and pedals. It did have a steering wheel, which was being controlled by Lytha at the moment. A small and convenient vehicle, suitable for sight-seeing.
Eilae let out a small breath. “I hope my sickness didn’t move onto you.”
“It’s nothing like that. There were…some things on my mind. Nothing important.”
“Shaden never becomes ill,” chuckled Lytha. “There’s no point in worrying about him.”
“I see.”
She didn’t look satisfied. Eilae’s keen eyes met Shaden’s as she looked at him once more.
“What’s on your mind?” she asked without hesitation.
“Huh?”
“What’s preventing you from enjoying the trip?”
Shaden stared at Eilae blankly.
“Family,” he replied without giving it much thought.” Surely, he couldn’t reply with, ‘you see, I actually have another body…’. “We won’t be seeing them for some time. Coming to this city made me realize just how far away I am from home. Don’t you feel the same?”
He hoped that would be sufficient enough for an explanation. To his relief, Eilae seemed satisfied, and she closed her eyes, putting her hands together on her lap.
“Family. It’s natural to be worried,” she said. Shaden tried his best to ignore his tutor’s half-frown half-grin that was directed towards him. She knew that he wasn’t someone who would be worried about being far from home.
“What kind of people were your parents?” asked Eilae, opening her eyes once more.
“Oh, they were great parents. My father is the captain guard within the city of Danark, and my mother…just an ordinary housewife.”
Since she looked interested (and there wasn’t anything else to talk about), he continued.
“I heard you were the second daughter. I’m also second in my family.”
Her eyes widened. “You are second-born?”
He nodded. “I have an older brother who is studying swordsmanship.”
“But…I was told that you were the heir.”
“About that—”
Did Lytha know about it? How Rother was adopted, how he didn’t share the blood of the Limens. She probably did.
“He was adopted,” he said after a short delay. His aunt’s reaction was unreadable, but seeing that she wasn’t saying anything, he assumed he was fine. “I do have a younger sister though. She must be around four by now.”
“You weren’t raised in Skotos?” asked Eilae.
“Nope. I was born in this small village, then we moved to Danark.”
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
“But you mastered your family art.”
“It took two years, but it was simple enough.”
Shock and awe crept into Eilae’s expression as she raised her hand to cover her open mouth.
“Only two years?”
“Is that impressive?”
“Very much!”
“You’re the one who knows the names of all the countries, cities, and families in the continent.”
“That’s just basic knowledge, nothing outstanding.”
Shaden rolled his eyes. “To me, that seems very impressive. Along with your mannerisms, the way you take care of your looks—”
Eilae had always had the perfect hair and clothing ready when they had been traveling. He couldn't comprehend how she managed to do so.
“You flatter me.”
Shaden leaned his head against the palm of his hand. “So, tell me about your family.”
“There’s really not much to say. My siblings and I were all trained under tutors, and we rarely see our parents—only during mealtimes.”
“Then tell me about your siblings.”
Shaden hoped he wasn’t breaching sensitive territory. Then again, this girl was everything but sensitive. She took a deep breath.
“They are…skilled, I should say. Especially my eldest and second eldest brother along with my older sister. My younger siblings show much potential as well.”
“Do you like being with them?”
“I…that is a peculiar question. We do try to outwit each other all the time, and it is very enjoyable. We are a family, and a family must support each other. So yes, I do like being with them.”
“And how old is your oldest sibling?”
“Twenty-four.”
Shaden paused and looked at the honest nine-year-old who had a small smile on her lips.
“Sounds like a…fun place,” he said, half-sarcastically. Her family—the Veurbois—just how did they raise their children?
Oblivious to his worries, Eilae smiled brightly in response to Shaden’s comment.
〄 〄 〄
“Any places that caught your eye?” asked Lytha while chewing on a piece of steak.
It was only the first day, so they hadn’t entered any buildings in particular. The city was a big place, and they were simply looking at what it had to offer. But for Shaden, it was difficult to determine exactly what interested him. All of the buildings were fancy and fantastic, some spiraling upwards high into the sky to inexplainable heights. The streets—though cold—had a variety of sights: elves in long, elegant robes or simple gowns and tunics. Actually, there were a lot of elves. Everywhere he went were elves.
“There were a few places that I want to go to,” said Shaden, poking his fork into a fish decorated with leaves and yellow sauce. He took a bite, and the sweet-sour flavor permeated through his tongue. The fish was very delicate. “There was that large, white building with golden-haired elves outside of it. You know, they were wearing those fancy white robes with leaf designs.”
“I think that was the Temple of Naera,” said Eilae after sipping on her glass of water.
“A god?”
“Yes. The one who presumably cast the magic over Yrmar so that it will stay green indefinitely.”
“Does she really exist?”
He had seen the giant, white statue of the ‘god’ in front of the temple. She looked like an elf, with long ears and a simple, white robe. Though her skin seemed to be decorated with vine-like patterns, and her feet were one with the ground as if she were a tree.
“Who knows?”
Shaden took another bite out of the fish. “Everything else was inns, taverns, shops, trading areas, more shops—there were a lot of shops, weren’t there.”
“It is a city of trade, after all,” replied Lytha. “And relatively new compared to the other elven cities. A good place to enjoy goods, but not that much if you’re here for the culture.”
“At least the food is good,” said Shaden. “How about you, Eilae? Anywhere that caught your eye?”
Eilae swallowed the food within her mouth and dabbed her lips with a napkin. “I’d like to visit the theater,” she said. “I heard they were quite famous around here.”
If Shaden remembered correctly, elves had beautiful voices.
“It’s settled then,” concluded Lytha. “We’ll take a look at the temple then visit the theater before dinner. After that, a boat ride. Does that suit you two?”
Both children nodded.
“Good,” said Lytha. “I happen to know a good theater nearby.”
〄 〄 〄
Their plan was simple. During the eight days that were left, they would travel around the city, visit the most interesting sights, then go spend the night at an inn that would be located at another part of the city. Wake up, repeat. Lytha’s policy for the tour was, “Go see the things you want to see.” What they missed, they could always come back when they were older.
But currently, Shaden had the feeling that Lytha was regretting her decision. Her dislike for ‘gods’ may have been more than what he had originally thought.
The temple was a marvelous place, no doubt, in terms of structural beauty. It had a sort of triangle-shape at the top and curved out as in reached its base, and the pillars that supported it were wrapped with green vines—real vines—that enhanced its naturistic beauty. Upon closer look, the building was not made out of stone, but pale, white wood; not planks—as if the whole building was carved out from a massive, single tree.
Beyond the outer pillars lay the massive gate, swung open for the day. It too was made out of white wood, but unlike the outer walls that had no particular design, the doors were carved intricately, portraying images of beasts, elves, the goddess Naera watching over the scene, overlaid with gold and silver, perhaps platinum. Since the doors were swung open, the goddess was split in half, but it looked beautiful, nevertheless. So lifelike, so detailed. He wondered who had carved it out.
“They’re very public, aren’t they?” commented Shaden. Despite the fact that they were humans, no one tried to stop them as they stepped into the doors. No one, even the golden-haired robed elves, gave them a second glance. The ones outside were sweeping the floors, watering the plants, and walking around the lovely garden that surrounded the place. The breath of green nature amidst the brown, grey, metal colors of the city made a pretty sight.
“The belief is that everyone is welcome to nature’s gifts, as long as they don’t destroy it,” said Lytha, her arms crossed. She didn’t look happy at all. She wasn’t frowning, but…grumpy? Slightly grumpy, like a parent watching their child waste time over a rock.
As they entered, Shaden put his hand on the white wood. To his surprise, it was as hard and cold as stone, and very solid.
“Is this really wood?”
“A special type of wood. Harder than Iron but lighter.”
Shaden recalled the practice-swords he had used back when he was at the Academy.
The inside of the temple was an open space. Light poured through the windowless holes in the ceiling, and Shaden spotted orbs that might be used as lighting during the night. The area had no chairs, and people simply walked around, enjoying the simple but beautiful building. Some were sitting, others kneeling below the spots of sunlight.
“How do they block rain?” Shaden asked.
“Spells,” replied Lytha simply.
The hall stretched pretty far, and at the end, there was an open area where the sunlight poured down the most through a giant hole in the ceiling. And directly below the sunlight, a white—
“Aunt Lytha. That tree—is it?”
A white tree, but with green leaves, was spreading out its branches for all to see. It looked awfully similar.
“No. White trees aren’t uncommon as religious symbolism.”
“Ah.”
There were people under the tree, touching it, praying, or sitting under it. The shade that the tree created was broad, enough to cover thirty people. There was even someone who was almost snoring. The mood was very relaxed and completely different from a fanatical image Shaden had imagined.
Eilae was simply enjoying the view, hands clasped together behind her back. The sight of the silver-haired girl strolling through the white building made for a heavenly sight.
〄 〄 〄
Before Shaden’s eyes, a magnificent story unfolded itself. They had failed to obtain the best seats at the front as they had all been reserved, but his keen eyesight while circulating made up for the distance. Eilae had magically produced binoculars from her suitcase when they had returned to get changed. Lytha’s arms were crossed, but her eyes were focused on the play.
“But the Mother of Spirits, does she know, sweet damsel?” asked the elven man while clutching his chest. He was on his knees, looking up towards the floating lady with wings.
“She knows it all. I sense her glare gazing through my veins.”
“Yet, why do you stay? Outside the Den, your spirit rapidly fades. I cannot bear to watch you wither away.”
“I must stay!”
“You are foolish!” cried the man while standing up. There was a low murmur among the crowd and a few oohs here and there. “Return at once. You are being foolish, and your desire for the world is becoming your undoing.”
The oohs quickly turned into uncertain murmurs.
“I cannot!” wept the lady with wings, descending to the ground. “I am afflicted with a curse. I cannot return!”
“A curse! What curse is this? Let me help you, dear friend.”
“The curse of love!”
The murmurs of the crowd grew louder. Shaden glanced at his two female companions, who were totally focused on the play now.
“The curse of love! A foolish curse. Who is this man, so uncaring, so imprudent as to shackle your heart to this place?”
There was a pause as the man walked closer to the winged woman. The crowd was totally silent. The woman had her face hidden within her hands, and she seemed to shiver. Then, amidst the silence, she raised her finger and pointed towards the man.
“It is you!”
Dramatic music burst out from the sides, and the man’s face was painted with shock and confusion. The lights slowly began to fade, and the stage was covered with the canvas that lowered from the top. The crowds cheered, signaling the end of the play.
〄 〄 〄
“That was…intense,” muttered Shaden. He wasn’t a fan of romance. It seemed too unrealistic, these kinds of developments.
“That was wonderful!” said Eilae, her hands held together in front of her chest. “Though predictable, I believe that the actors portrayed their emotions very well. Will we return tomorrow?”
Her eyes looked longing, and Shaden couldn’t make himself say, “It wasn’t even that good.”
“I guess. Aunt Lytha—”
He looked and his tutor who was blanking out with a dreamy look on her face. He shook his head and sighed. He never would have guessed that she would be someone who enjoyed romantic plays. Then again, she was unmarried.
With a sigh, Shaden scratched his cheek. “We can return tomorrow to watch the rest.”
Eilae smiled happily and began humming the theme music from the play. It was a catchy tune, he had to admit. And the elves’ voices weren’t anything to joke about. Crystal clear and crisp on the ear. They were professionals, indeed. He understood a little why people enjoyed plays.
“I—need to use the bathroom,” he told his aunt, who was still spaced out. It had been a long play. So leaving the two romantics behind, he turned his footsteps towards the bathroom he had seen before. It was at the edge of the building where the waste could be removed easily. Public elven bathrooms were a little worse than human ones, but they were cleaner, which he appreciated.
He walked through the wooden halls with various potted plants and pictures of nature hanging to the sides. Finally, he spotted the bathrooms. The male one was just around the corner. He was nearing it when he heard something like a dispute. Male voices were grumbling at each other.
Shaden began to circulate to enhance his hearing.
“……I told you, this hearing device is mine!”
“What are you talking about? Can’t you see that my friend here is missing an ear? The device is obviously his. You stole it!”
“Why would I steal from the likes of you?”
“You are greedy, that’s why. Now hand over the device. You’re rich, aren’t you?”
“This is a robbery!”
“Just hand it over if you don’t want to get hurt—”
The teen beastman yelped as Shaden appeared out of nowhere and pushed him away from the old elf, who was leaning against the wall. The furry-eared boy looked to be around sixteen or seventeen, and behind him, a younger beastman was watching nervously, chewing on his nails.
“What the—who are you!” shouted the teen, growling. Then his eyes narrowed, and he grinned. “You’re just a kid.”
“A scary kid, that’s what.”
Shaden created a miniature ball of flame within his palm and pointed it towards the boy, who snorted.
“What’s that going to do?”
His smile vanished when Shaden’s ball of fire grew bigger than his head.
“Magic—rats, let’s get out of here,” he growled to the younger beastmen. As expected of their race; they were very fast, and within seconds, they were gone from the room.
Now the old elf was panicking.
“That magic! Can you control it?” he cried.
Shaden responded by making the ball disappear from his hand. It was simple as removing the mana flow to it.
“Chantless magic…you don’t even look ten,” muttered the old elf while getting up. In his hand was a circular device, probably the one they were arguing about. “Using magic inside the building is dangerous, child. Don’t do it again.”
A little appreciation would be good, thought Shaden.
“Can’t you use magic yourself?”
“Spells and old elves do not mix well.”
Despite being an elf, his face had numerous wrinkles. He was in a brown robe with a black coat on top, overlaid with silver. His hair was ghostly white, and he was balding somewhat near his forehead. He had a small, white beard on the tip of his chin.
“Despicable mutts,” muttered the old elf while getting up. He straightened his coat and back. “I must thank you…human child. Who knows what those beasts would have done to me.”
Nothing much, considering they looked half-starved, he thought. He had intervened at the heat of the moment, but his opinion was changing a little. Theft was bad, but…
It was better not to think so much about it.
“It wasn’t anything special.”
“Nonsense! Every debt must be paid. Child, you look like a smart child. A practitioner of chantless magic…at such a young age. You must be talented.”
“I guess?”
“It’s sir for you, child. I am old.”
“Yes…sir.”
The old elf nodded in satisfaction. “Very good, very good. You are fluent in Nflerin. Do you live here, perhaps?”
“For the moment, yes.”
“Splendid, splendid. A debt must be paid,” he muttered.
From within his coat, he took out a small notebook and narrowed his eyes. A faint light emerged from his fingers, and he scribbled something into a page and ripped it off.
“Smart children must be fond of books, yes? I happen to be in the possession of a few books. Visit my store whenever you wish, child. What’s your name?”
“Shaden.”
“Shaden; a peculiar name. I am Phtol Merina, but call me Merina. I possess a small shop.”
He passed the note to Shaden with his thin fingers, that was also wrinkly. “I presume you know how to read. The address is here, and my workers will recognize my writing.”
Shaden looked at the note, and sure enough, he could read it.
“Thank…you?”
“Hmm. Hmm.”
“Master! Master!”
There was a flutter of footsteps beyond the room, and soon, an elf with brown hair entered the bathroom, looking breathless. His eyes darted around the room until he spotted the old elf behind Shaden.
“Master! You’re taking too long.”
“Have some patience,” grumbled the old elf. He passed by Shaden, and the young elf held his arm after he came close. “Goodbye, Shaden. I do hope you’ll visit,” he said.
The brown-haired elf supported the old elf, and the two of them left the bathroom. Shaden silently stared at the piece of paper in his hand.
Well.
Perhaps he had found something that would let him escape watching the play.