A promise was a promise and right after she bonded with the bow, the old luthier conjured some pillows and invited her to sit on it.

Ilbryen cleared his throat, his voice carrying the authority of whatever late teacher he was trying to emulate. "The story of your origin and your secondary archetype are intimately linked with my people and our gods. So please bear with it. It's all going to make sense soon enough."

Sophia nodded, her attention fully focused. "I'm listening."

Old Elf: "Our genesis story has it that we came to life from the soil and the very blood of our Father, the Trickster God." the old elf continued, his gaze distant as if recalling ancient memories. "You won't find an elf that does not worship him for a simple reason: non-believers break the cycle of reincarnation, dooming not only themselves but also endangering our entire species. That was until two specific events happened."

"What events?" Sophia leaned forward, eager for more.

"First, the Dark Matriarch challenged his rule, cursing the half of the elven kind that followed her," Ilbryen explained, his voice tinged with sadness. "Among them, a single benevolent goddess, the Dark Maiden, chose to side with them, trying to mend the wound between all elves ever since. And her clergy called themselves Sworddancers and Weavesingers."

Sophia's eyes widened with understanding. "So, these Sworddancers and Weavesingers... they were like me?"

"In a way, yes." the old elf confirmed, nodding solemnly. "They carry the legacy of that benevolent goddess, seeking to heal the rift among elves. But there's more and that leads to my second point: An Elf ascended to godhood a few millenia after that. Legends say she used to be an Autumn Elf and an amazing healer. But upon ascending, she developed powers that challenged the status quo, gaining dominion over dreams, winds, healing, and reincarnation itself. And she decided that every elf deserved it, regardless of their faiths or ancestors' faults. She even extended her blessing to non-elves as well."

"That's quite a bold move," Sophia remarked, impressed by the Elf's audacity.

"Indeed." Ilbryen agreed his expression grave. "All the elven gods, good or bad, rose up to bring her down. But while she was defeated, her dominion still stood in her absence. The gods realized that the fallen rogue goddess could not be truly defeated through conventional means."

"Wait, so you're implying I carry the bloodline of this fallen goddess?" Sophia's mind raced with the implications.

"It's possible." the old elf admitted, his gaze piercing. "Your Feywild bloodline is no ordinary and made evident by your silver freckles, especially since they shine in the moonlight. And as an Autumn Elf, I can recognize the magical signature of my peers, no matter how faint and diluted it is."

"So, what does this mean for me?" Sophia's voice trembled with anticipation.

"It means that while evidently not an elf yourself, you may be one of her many descendants, keeping her heritage alive," Ilbryen explained, his tone somber. "Your presence here, in this dream, may hold more significance than you realize."

Sophia took a deep breath, processing the weight of her ancestry. "I see. Thank you for sharing this with me."

"But how does it relate to me? Why would some goddess ‘help’" She tressed her meant irony, "a descendant of a fallen one ?"

"Ah, that is a question that delves into the complex web of divine politics and interplay between gods and mortals." the old elf mused, his eyes distant. "You see, the actions of gods are often shrouded in mystery, their motivations incomprehensible to mere mortals like us. But one thing is certain: the bonds of ancestry and lineage carry weight even among the divine."

"So you’re saying there’s some sort of divine rivalry or alliance at play here ?" Sophia pressed, seeking clarity in the midst of uncertainty.

"Indeed," Ilbryen confirmed, nodding sagely. "The gods are not immune to the conflicts and alliances that shape mortal realms. Perhaps that goddess saw potential in you, a descendant of an ancient if dormant bloodline, to further her own agenda or to challenge the status quo established by her rivals. Or perhaps there is a deeper connection between your bloodlines that even the gods themselves cannot fully comprehend."

"It’s all so… overwhelming," Sophia admitted, her mind reeling with newfound knowledge.

"On the plus side, it's more common than you think." the old elf offered, a hint of reassurance in his voice. "One mystical ancestor, either legit or made-up, one extended family sharing common interests and that's it: you got a clan with political legitimacy. Whether yours is true or not, no one is going to raise an eyebrow at it."

That was still a lot more information than she expected and unfortunately, more than she felt comfortable with. And though unverified, at least she had been warned about what she was possibly dealing with.

Sophia took a deep breath. "Thanks for letting me know." She concluded putting an end to the conversation.

And Ilbryen quietly nodded, letting her have some alone time for the news to sink in.

★☆★

Once Sophia was feeling in a talking mood again, Ilbryen was already waiting on her, a brand new viola on his lap.

"I have one last gift for you." He old luthier said gently patting the instrument. "But I must warn you that this one would come with strings attached."

The viola in question was completely alien to Sophia. Its size was similar to a violin but it was bulkier like a downscale double bass. And more than anything, it looked like a mix between a viola and a guitar with its unusual handle and the six strings instead of the typical four. And the instrument had the shocking light red color of its coat completed its unique, refined, and strangely gorgeous look perfectly.

But still, Sophia was more worried about the strings attached.

'Nothing will cost you more than something free.' Her mother used to repeat as the morale of a cautionary tale. She did not quite remember the story, except it involved many talking animals and a bad ending.

"Sorry to disappoint but in spite of what you might expect from my secondary archetype, I have no musical talent whatsoever." She warned back.

"Talent, while essential, is but a seed waiting to be nurtured by time and hard work," Ilbryen mused, his eyes gleaming with conviction. "What I'm offering you is a Second Voice. And one that can perform far beyond what your vocal cords could ever produce. A voice that without any fake modesty can stir the very souls of angels and bring them to tears at the sound of the sublime. That, my friend, is the promise of my craftsmanship, yours for a price that belies its true worth."

That was quite a sales pitch for someone who never had to make one in his entire life. If that instrument sounded even better than it looked, she would be the luckiest musician ever. The issue was that she was nothing but a fraud as a musician. Her secondary archetype revolved around listening to the Weave and harmonizing with it. Yet it wasn't meant to please the ears and her song to the pixies was the only notable exception where she cared enough to try. That viola was simply too good for her. It was like gifting a smartphone to a toddler: useless and borderline irresponsible.

"This is too much and you know it. I'm centuries too young for it and I simply cannot accept it." Sophia argued.

"Look. Stop overthinking it. Besides I don't want to hear it from someone who might live forever. I'm going to die in here. I want to invest in you. And you are my only option anyway. So please hear my conditions and accept them so the system can acknowledge the transfer of ownership of my baby to you."

That's when Sophia finally got it. It wasn't about her at all. It was about keeping his legacy alive and she was, unfortunately, his only option. So she sucked it up and finally gave in:

"Okay. I'm listening."

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And so the old elf started enumerating his many conditions:

"First and foremost, I want you to swear this viola will be the second object you will bond with, whenever you get the chance. It's not negotiable. I want no one but you to get their greedy hands on this one.

Secondly and to anyone asking about its design, I want you to hand them a copy of its blueprint without asking for any compensation whatsoever. While this one belongs to you exclusively, I want this design to spread far and large but only among people who can appreciate it.

Thirdly and related to my second point, I want you to ensure no one can claim my design as their own and get a technical monopoly on my product. I don't care what you have to do or who you have to kill to make this happen. But I want as many luthiers as possible experimenting and competing to improve my design.

Fourthly, I have written something meant to showcase and promote my creation's capabilities. You are free to create variations and improve upon it. But I would like you to play it every time you get a willing new audience to listen to it.

Fifth and last, but not least, I would like you to found a guild in my name, to support the musical craftsmen's innovation. Because of the sheer scale of the goal, I'm going to give you free rein about how you want to implement it and two hundred years to give it an honest try.

Do those conditions sound fair to you?"

And as he said so, a system window popped up, summarizing the terms of the agreement.

"The system seems to think so," Sophia said as she reread those conditions several times over.

The second and third conditions were working in tandem to ensure Ilbryen's legacy would live on as intended, while the first and fourth conditions regulated what he expected her to do with the viola itself. As for the fifth condition, it was more of a long-term last wish that she would have no obligation to achieve anything except for her own moral compass.

Honestly, had he asked for it, she would have done most of those things for free. So that particular request was a no-brainer.

"Okay. Sure. You have a deal." She verbally agreed while doing the same to the system.

The previous window disappeared, replaced by a description of her newly acquired legendary instrument, which unsurprisingly got the same self-repair special characteristic as her bow, as well as a new one that Ilbryen already described to her:

Second Voice would essentially allow her to use her Weavesinging Archetype features while playing that instrument which could be circumstantially useful in some very specific scenarios.

"Second Voice is great, right? Too bad we can't use magic here or I would show you a few tricks," the old man said before handing her a potion. "Now, gulp this down, and let me show you what my baby can do."

"What is it for?" Sophia couldn't help but ask, turning the bottle around, searching for a clue.

"It's a memory potion, to help you commit it to memory." He said.

And then, he started playing before she could even comply.

The piece stood out for it immediately appealed to the most primal yet less explored emotion of them all: fear.

With just two notes repeated over and over again, the viola was able to build up the feeling of unease to dramatic proportion, only to mix it with an overwhelming feeling of love and timid hints of happiness before the piece entered its next stage, with candid joy and the slightest hints of background fear. At which point, the meaning of the piece was made clear.

The piece was some sort of ballad of Ilbryen's life, from his infancy to his childhood, to the renewed fear mixed with the anger of his teenage years, and finally, his adulthood, a unique blend of pride and fear fighting one another, pride almost winning, only to be crushed by fear, and then sadness and regrets until it reached its ultimate conclusion with a few notes of increasingly muted regrets, sadness and fear.

That short piece was clearly not made to achieve popularity. But the emotions it was talking about were so visceral and clear that it was impossible to ignore. It wasn't a celebration of life, but a cautionary tale about paralyzing fears, missed opportunities, and ultimately, a life wasted for nothing.

Not the kind of story one might want to listen to, but one that needed to be heard anyway.

"So, what do you think?" The old elf asked her and she looked at her white hands, still holding the untouched bottle.

"I think I will need to hear it a second time." She admitted and chuckled nervously. " I forgot to drink the potion."

And so, after she drank it, Ilbryen played his piece for the second time, and then a third, and a fourth...

Until she had it perfectly committed to memory.

★☆★

Time had slowed to a crawl as Ilbryen kept trying to teach her how to differentiate lifeblood from blood magic.

They weren't going anywhere.

And though Sophia wasn't a studious apprentice the old elf could have asked for, his own lapse and increasing need to meditate since he entrusted his legacy to her had also been impending on their lessons.

It was unfortunate but Ilbryen was literally and figuratively fading away with every passing day as if his age was suddenly getting back at him all at once, the elf becoming a prisoner of his own mind as his body was progressively losing substance and the dream world around Sophia, slowly unraveling before her eyes.

And suddenly, she was once again very afraid for her life as she was unsure what would happen to her once the dream fully collapsed on itself. Would Ilbryen unwillingly dig a grave big enough for the two of them?

But in his rare lucid moment, the old elf was rather confident that she would survive the experience somehow.

The Fey creatures keeping them in that state might overlooked things as simple as her physical health, but they would not let her die from something happening in their dreams. Ilbryen was dying of old age and there was nothing they could do about it.

But Sophia? She would be forever in her prime and so long her jailor did not neglect her mortal body, she would be their golden goose and would feed those dreams eaters for generations to come. But somehow Ilbryen was still utterly convinced that grim scenario would not come to pass. For she has Eternal Youth but no other Ancestry Boon to enhance her health.

Then, earthquakes and tears through the very fabric of the dreams started to occur more and more frequently.

"This isn't me." The old elf told her, both curious and dubitative about the phenomenon. "Something is happening here and I'm not the cause. So we might both get to escape that place sooner than we thought."

"Are you sure?" Sophia asked, uncertain.

"Something is wrong with them." Ilbryen pointed to the sky. "They are having trouble but they won't let us break free. So that if they die, we will die with them. They are petty like that."

"Did it happen before?" Sophia asked again, surprised by the old elf's sudden confidence.

"It happened thrice." The old elf recalled out loud. "And they increased the size of my playground every single time. It was like they were loosening the leash to bribe their favorite pet for good behavior. But it was never this intense. And they are not loosening anything this time around."

"So they are having a really bad time." Sophia thought out loud.

It was her chance. Or maybe it was an in-build safety to prevent representatives from being stuck here indefinitely. Anyway, it was her cue to start fighting back, though she had no idea how.

Ilbryen claimed it was impossible.

But she had to try and wake up while they were weakened. And so she summoned a dagger to her hand and tried to commit suicide in every way she could think of.

"What the hell are you doing?" The old elf asked alarmed. "Have you lost your mind?"

"In their dreams, people wake up before they could die. They are making both impossible. And they are weak. So I'm pulling on the leash while they are weak." She stated firmly and menacingly.

She would not let Ilbryen waste her morbid efforts toward freedom.

But she did not have to.

Surprisingly, after he recovered from the initial shock, the old elf summoned a copy of the same dagger and did the same.

"I don't care about my own freedom anymore. But I will give my best shot to help you get yours." He stated as he proceeded to exsanguinate the both of them with his blood manipulation trick.

At that point, both of them should be dead twelve times over and the magic of this place keeping them alive was struggling to keep up. But while the Feys themselves were keeping them alive and the forest magic was constantly regenerating their body, nothing was shielding them from the debilitating effect of self-inflicted pain.

And yet, something snapped, and suddenly, Sophia was back in the void, neither in that dream nor among the living, nor the dead.

You have broken free of the Pleasantries' Dream Prison. However, you did, not without incurring significant damage to your body. You are currently locked in your own mind to shelter your psyche and prevent further damage.

If you do not receive external help to stabilize your body condition, you will die in 7h43.

Communication through the system network is now restored, allowing you to call for help.

'Call for help?' What a fantastical idea!

Hey guys! I'm still alive though at death's door. I don't know where I am. But I finally got a name for my abductor. They are called Pleasantries and love to lock people up in their dreams in perpetuity. I don't know if you can help. But I would love to set up a rendezvous point after I got respawned.

And then she wait, for an awfully long time with nothing but the timer to help her keep track of time. Until an answer finally came in, forty minutes later.

Hey! It's Michel. Glad to hear you are still hanging on dear life.

We are actually coming for you and we would be really upset if you died before we could reach you! We already know where you are, but we are still missing a piece of the freaking stupid puzzle key.

You won't have to wait for long though. There are only the Queen and a dozen of workers left. And Paolo is currently smoking them to death to lure them out and get them to fight on our terms.

So her companions coming for her were the cause of the disturbance that allowed her to break free. It was both convenient and highly informative. But still, it was really disturbing to know she could not do anything to improve her odds and had to sit that one out, like a freaking damsel in distress.

It's okay. I'm not going anywhere and I have about 7h left before I kick the bucket.

Just keep me posted whenever you can.

And then she resumed anxiously waiting some more.