> Orm

>

> Ohrm

>

> Type: Noun

>

> Meaning: "Home" or "Place of dwelling". It represents a space where one feels a sense of belonging and safety. It's not just a physical structure but also a concept of comfort and familial or communal connection.

The sight before them was heart-wrenching—a living nightmare transmuted into grim reality. Yeso and Noctavia sat atop their horses, staring at the settlement they'd spent countless Falls to build, to settle, to nurture.

The word 'catastrophe' barely did justice to the pandemonium unfolding below them. The place was teeming with spiders—swarms of them, in numbers that defied belief. It was as if the ground itself had opened up to release this plague upon their home.

Slowly, Yeso and Noctavia urged their horses forward. As they approached, they saw the frantic activity taking place. Children clung to their mothers as they packed up their meagre belongings.

Groups of faeries, even Claramae, were saying their goodbyes, their moth wings quivering as they prepared to retreat to Faewood.

Magis moved meticulously through the sea of arachnids, capturing them and placing them into wooden crates with the kind of respect one gives to a misunderstood creature.

It was clear to everyone: the spiders had to be returned to their rightful owner, to the Herbstdame, Veilla. There was no other way to resolve this disaster than to right the wrong that had been committed.

The 'why' and 'how' would have to wait for another, less calamitous, day.

While the camp had been resolving the Spider situation for days now, they saw Prince Xendrix huddled inside his tent, the flaps pulled tightly shut as if they could ward off not just the spiders but the shame and regret that he must be feeling. Yet, instead, Xendrix felt something else—something exhilarating.

His tent had been oddly immune to the spider invasion, an irony that wasn't lost on him. He should be with the others outside, lending a hand in the frantic effort to restore order. Yet, he was paralyzed by something. It was like heated waves rushing down him while his heart raced excitedly.

Just as he sunk further into his morass of thoughts, a hand pulled back the entrance of his tent. "Can I come in?"

Before he could even answer, Ulencia stepped inside. She sat down beside him and extended a plate laden with eggs and bread. "Sorry, we haven't much…"

"It's fine, thank you. But I'm not hungry," Xendrix lied.

Ulencia smoothed her skirt before looking at Xendrix with genuine concern. "What's bothering you? You seem... off. Are you sick?"

Xendrix shifted uncomfortably, his eyes evading hers. "Sick? No, it's more... complicated than that," he replied, pretending a shame he was expected to feel.

"You shouldn't burden yourself with this," Ulencia reassured, though her smile failed to mask the depth of what was happening around them. "We were always aware of the risk that our efforts might not be what we hoped for."

"But why? Why is this happening?" Xendrix asked, executing a show of confusion. It was as if he couldn't understand the gravity of the chaos that shrouded the settlement, but he played his part perfectly.

"Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could remain all blissfully ignorant?" Ulencia sighed, trying to infuse some levity into the grim situation. "The humans are driving us out; our Dame is dragging us back, back to Ormgrund. It confuses me—why can't we share this land in peace? What's so difficult about that?"

Xendrix shrugged, "Fear, the craving for power and more power... Honestly, I really can't say for sure."

Ulencia leaned forward, her eyes locked on his. "But you do realize, don't you? If we leave, the humans will lose any type of connection to magic. It's not just us; it's the magic itself that will leave."

"The elves will remain," Xendrix argued, though his conviction wasn't solid at all. He knew she was right.

Ulencia shook her head, a wry smile on her lips. "Elves? They're hardly the easiest to collaborate with. Good luck with that! You must understand that elves rely heavily on Menschen magic. Without us or the Spirits, who will follow, with no doubt... and then what?"

"What do you mean the elves rely on Menschen magic?"

"You've never heard about ley lines?" Ulencia asked, slightly surprised.

He shook his head. "First time." He said with a smirk.

Ulencia elaborated, "Think of it like a spider's web that allows magic to flow through the world, like rivers. Where the lines intersect, you find a node that is where you control those lines of power. Only a select few of the Menschen, like our Dame, can activate these nodes and allow magic to flow under their influence all around the world — land, sea and sky. Why do you think the Centaurs are so adamant about Moonbay? Why do you think Yeso is working so hard to preserve it?"

"It's their homeland?" Xendrix ventured a guess.

Ulencia nodded, "Yes, but there's more to it. Moonbay is not just any place; it's a node—an Ormstaat. If humans succeed in taking over Moonbay... if they touch the node..."

"We lose a crucial source of magic," Xendrix realized. "This debacle with the spiders—it's not a human error, right?" he said quickly, “Is no one's fault, right?”

Ulencia's expression softened, but she ignored his question. "Veilla lost faith in humanity long ago. We're here because people like Yeso and Noctavia are fighting to bridge the gap between our kinds. There are many halflings, like myself, who don't belong to Ormgrund. I was born here, in the human lands. I have no home or family in Ormgrund. There's nothing for me there. If I'm forced to leave, I might as well accept the life of a stray living under a bridge."

"If things get bad, you can always move in with me. The castle is big," Xendrix said, his eyes searching hers.

Ulencia looked back at him, not with judgment but with a kind of melancholy. "You don't understand, do you?"

"Then explain it to me," he urged.

"I'm trying, but either you're not listening, or I'm not using the right words. I can't stay here because I'm neither fully human nor fully Menschen. I can't stay, but I have nowhere to go."

"But your blood is blue," he blurted out.

"So what?" she retorted, her eyes narrowing slightly.

Xendrix stood up and faced her. "I might have a plan… But I'll need your help."

As Ulencia gazed into Xendrix's dark eyes, a chill skittered up her spine, an ominous sensation that she couldn't quite shake off. Her thoughts were briefly interrupted by the sight of a small white mouse darting between the cushions of his tent. It was a trivial moment, yet it imprinted on her memory, like a subtle harbinger warning her of a future she was yet to understand.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

"What exactly are you proposing?" Ulencia asked.

Xendrix inhaled deeply, steeling himself. "Marry me," he stated bluntly.

Ulencia couldn't mask her surprise. "Marry you? We hardly know each other," she said, attempting a humorous tone.

Xendrix leaned forward. "Think about it, Ulencia. With me, you won't just have a roof; you'll have a castle, a title. Imagine the influence we could wield together for the good of our people. Humans and Menschen. With a union of red and blue blood at the heart of the monarchy, our child could one day rule Keblurg and influence the rest of the map. And if the Menschen really leave, our children could be the bridge that welcomes their return."

Ulencia listened, weighing his words, which seemed to have been rehearsed over and over again. "Tempting as that may be, I can't say I harbour romantic feelings for you, Xendrix. I don't know if I ever will."

"I will make you love me," he said, almost muffling a dark intent.

"You'll 'make' me love you?" she questioned, arching an eyebrow.

Xendrix waved a hand dismissively. "It's just a figure of speech. Don't take it so literally. You know what I mean."

"But isn't this the reason why you're studying alchemy?" Ulencia probed gently, "A human who wields magic that would build a bridge. How many bridges are needed?"

Xendrix sighed, annoyed, a shadow of frustration crossing his features. "Yes, you're right. But I'm worried. I'm only human, and my efforts in alchemy might not yield the results I hope for. This... our marriage could be a viable alternative, a plan B if you will. It's not set in stone, of course. Not now."

After a moment of contemplation, Ulencia nodded slowly and, with resignation, made her decision. "Alright," she agreed, "I'm in."

The instant Ulencia uttered her agreement, time itself seemed to freeze. The world around them fell into a profound and eerie stillness. Each settler, every living creature, and even the smallest particles of dust and droplets of water hung suspended in the air, caught in the whimsical grip of halted time.

While the two youngsters were plotting solutions for a better future, Yeso leaned against the pillar of his tabernacle, his eyes red and swollen, evidence of the tears he'd shed. Noctavia paced the limited space like a caged animal, her steps punctuated by pauses to shout or wipe away her own tears.

To those outside, they'd been in there for maybe an hour. But time had been bent and folded within these fabric walls, Noctavia's magic stretching moments into what felt like days. They'd been arguing in a loop that seemed never-ending, and Yeso had lost count of the times Noctavia had frozen time to prolong their discussion.

"I'm coming with you!" Noctavia finally declared.

"No, you are not, my love. I'm not changing my mind," Yeso responded with a pleading note.

"I won't let you go alone!" she shouted, her words ricocheting off the tent's close quarters. "Mir eu was nyeo gut ja!" Nocatavia was clear that she wouldn't change her mind.

Yeso pushed off the pillar, closing the distance between them in a few strides. He cupped her face, forcing her to look into his eyes. "I can't bear the thought of putting you in danger. I must do this alone."

Noctavia's eyes met his, ablaze with fear, love, and stubborn resolve. "And I can't bear the thought of you facing it alone. What if something happens to you? What then?"

He sighed deeply, torn between the love he felt for her and the dire mission that lay ahead. Finally, his shoulders slumped in defeat. His seed stung like by the acid burn of Noctavia's turmoil. He understood and could feel in detail the cocktail of fear, anger, and jealousy that roiled within her.

“What if you die? I die here alone? Not knowing when and how? This is not what you promised me! You promised me we would be together no matter what! And no matter when! You promised Yeso! You promised!”

"They need you here. I need you here," Yeso said softly, feeling as though he was walking on a tightrope stretched over a chasm. "I need to go and face her."

"Take me with you!" Noctavia's voice broke, “Take me with you. We face her together. Please, mir amo, take me with you.”

"I can't," Yeso whispered his words, a scalpel that seemed to slice through the air between them. “I won’t risk it.”

A pause hung heavy, and Noctavia's voice quivered as she asked the question that had been haunting her.

"If she asks you to stay with her, will you say yes?" Her normally fierce eyes brimmed with tears, the dam of her composure finally breaking.

"My love... mir amo", Yeso's voice trailed off, his eyes searching hers for something—forgiveness, understanding, a sign. But all he saw was a mirror reflecting his own turmoil back at him.

He took a deep breath and clasped her hands tightly as if, by sheer force, he was transferring his resolve to her. "I could never stay with anyone else. My heart belongs here, with you. But I must go to Ormgrund. I have to. And you... you have to stay. For them. For us. For me... for my sanity. Please, Zonnestra."

But Yeso was stricken by the weight of Noctavia's words. She had voiced the unspoken, brought to light the fears that had lurked in the shadows of his mind.

"If she asks you again to be her Rame, will you say yes?" Noctavia's words were like arrows, each one aimed with unerring accuracy at his vulnerabilities. "You would, wouldn't you? If that would help your people, you would. You would accept that crown. You would leave me... you would... you-you..."

Her voice cracked, crumbling under the weight of her own emotion. It was selfish, Yeso knew, but it was selfishness that she had every right to claim. And he, too, was terrified. Not because he desired a crown or power, but because he knew that given the choice to protect his people—and Noctavia—he might be asked to make unimaginable sacrifices. And he couldn’t.

He watched as Noctavia sank to the floor, curling into herself like a wilted flower. Her shoulders shook as she buried her face in her knees, her sobs a haunting melody of heartbreak and fear. Kneeling in front of her, Yeso gently lifted her hand and pressed it to his heart.

"Tell me, what do you feel?" he asked softly, locking eyes with her.

She looked up, her eyes red, and pressed her palm more firmly against his chest, letting her heart synchronize her heartbeat with his.

"I feel a heart that loves me but is also pulled in so many different directions," she finally said, her voice quivering but clear. "I feel a heart that could be torn away from me at any moment, and I’m scared."

Yeso sighed, his eyes clouding. "And I feel a heart that is my home, one I never want to leave. But I'd rather burn land, sea and sky than hurt you, leave you. I wouldn't. I cannot do it, Zonnestra, and I’m scared it will turn me into a villain."

A heavy silence fell upon them, fraught with the tension of impending choices and fears. Then, as if pulled by an invisible string, their lips met in a kiss that tasted of both love and sorrow, a bittersweet taste of mir fado.

"You need to understand," Yeso whispered, breaking away but keeping his forehead pressed against hers. "It is always about you. That is the only thing I truly care about. You."

"And you need to understand," she whispered back, "that no matter what happens, I will always love you and if something happens to you… I… I..."

He kissed her the words. "I have hexed you, and you have hexed me. There is nothing, no creature, no Dame, no King, no Spirit, and not even death can change that."

He leaned his forehead over her shoulder and whispered through her ear, “I hex with whispers soft as night's own hush. Feel my highs, my lows, the push and shove. In every quiet, fleeting rush, I hex you. I hex, I'll taste the same, the skin, the tear. I hex your ups, your pull, your touch and your tongue. While speaking, screaming or hiding. I will be there, I hex you with my laughter and tears. With every beat of life in my blood. If you stray, we'll share the fears, I hex! Until you come near, back into my arms. I hex your children, and the children of your children with this love will cling to their children of their children. I hex you to death and never leave you alone, and should you fall forever asleep, I hex, and I hex myself to sleep by your side and trick death until the end of time.”

It was the spell, the blessed hex that Yeso had bestowed on both back then. Back in the day, he turned his back to the throne to be with her.

Yeso's lips met hers delicately at first, as if afraid that any more force would shatter the tenuous peace they'd just reached. But then the kiss deepened, fueled by a fire that neither could extinguish, even if they'd wanted to.

A gentle breeze rustled the fabric of the tent, carrying with it the earthy scent of the land they both loved and fought for. For a moment, they were suspended in a world entirely of their own making.

Noctavia pressed her face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of him—of rain, pine, sun and that indefinable aroma that was uniquely Yeso.

"I hex you," she murmured into his skin, seeking one final reassurance.

"I hex," he answered, "and I hex myself to sleep by your side and trick death until the end of time."

> Saint Ulencia, a figure revered by humans and elves alike. In effigies and frescoes, she is invariably depicted as a young, serene maiden, cradling her swollen belly in an eternal slumber. This shared iconography, however, misrepresents a narrative rife with contradictions and overlapping beliefs. Neither human nor elf, Ulencia is heralded as the progenitor of all races, a primordial wellspring from which diverse lineages flowed. Her story is a tapestry of life, death, and miraculous rebirth, where legends speak of her peaceful demise in sleep—a death from which the Green Mother, in elven lore, or the Holy Mother, according to human scripture, wrought the child from her lifeless form. Disentangling the threads of Saint Ulencia's true history from the embroidered myths remains a challenge. Her tale, woven through the ages, blurs the lines between the divine and the mortal, leaving scholars and devotees to ponder where the woman ends and the saint begins. ——Between Lore and Legacy: The Mystifying Histories of the Menschen Vol. II by Professor Edgar O. Duvencrune