The king’s imposing figure radiated authority as he entered the chamber, his silver cape flowing like liquid metal behind him. His presence alone seemed to demand silence, and all within the room instinctively straightened, as if the air itself had grown heavier.
“I could have delegated this interrogation to one of my subordinates,” he began, his deep, resonant voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “But when I heard you were Elvhein Earthers, my curiosity grew too great to resist.”
The room remained silent as his sharp blue eyes swept over the gathered figures. He moved with deliberate grace, every step echoing on the polished floor. As he approached Renia, his gaze sharpened. “Renia,” he said, his tone cool but commanding, “did you include every detail in my report?”
Renia inclined her head respectfully, bowing slightly. “Yes, my lord. Every detail has been documented.”
The king’s gaze shifted, catching sight of Gustein sprawled on the floor, snoring with his hand on his ample belly. His lips curled faintly in disdain. “Is that… a Leporid?” he asked, his voice laced with incredulity.
Renia nodded. “Yes, my lord.”
The king’s expression darkened as he studied Gustein. “I haven’t seen one of those avaricious creatures in years. Their greed is rivaled only by their cowardice.”
He took a few more steps, his commanding presence filling the room. With a mere wave of his hand, a chair formed seamlessly from the ground. He sat down, resting his arms on the armrests as he leaned forward slightly, his tone darkening. “Now, let us dispense with pleasantries. Boy, what are you, and why are you here?”
The weight of his magical aura pressed down upon them, chilling the air and causing the siblings to shrink back. “And remember this,” the king continued, his voice low but laced with menace, “utter even a single falsehood, and your heads shall roll.”
The oppressive energy sent shivers through everyone present. Kaelan and Gustein, startled from their slumber, were instantly on edge. Ziraiah’s breath hitched as she clutched her hands to her chest, her eyes wide with fear.
Eryndor, ever composed, stepped forward. He placed a steadying hand on Valerius’s shoulder and spoke, his voice calm yet firm, his words deliberate and elegant. “Allow me to address your questions, your grace. We hail from Earth, though we know not how we arrived in this realm. One moment, we were amidst our lives, and the next, we found ourselves cast into Yilheim. Since then, we have endured hardship and peril, striving only to survive.”
His measured tone seemed to ease the suffocating tension in the room, his sincerity cutting through the king’s oppressive aura like a blade.
The king’s cold gaze lingered on Eryndor before he turned his attention elsewhere. “Hesta,” he commanded, his voice sharp, “confirm his statement.”
The doors to the chamber opened, revealing a young Elf woman. She was lithe and delicate, standing at 8 feet tall. Her short blonde hair framed sharp blue eyes that sparkled with quiet intelligence. Her green dress, layered over fitted trousers, swayed as she moved with grace toward the group.
“It is true, my lord,” Hesta said with unwavering certainty.
Eryndor turned to her, his curiosity evident. “How can you be so certain?”
Hesta’s lips curved into a faint smile. “In my presence, no one can speak a lie without it revealing itself.”
Before Eryndor could respond, Gustein, ever opportunistic, attempted to diffuse the tension with a wide grin and a polite bow. “Ah, now that we’re all on the same page, might this humble Leporid beg your graciousness to allow us to depart in peace?”
Renia’s voice cut through his attempt, precise and sharp. “My lord, the Leporid carries a Seed.”
The king’s piercing gaze snapped to Gustein, who immediately began to sweat, his composure faltering. “You possess a Seed?” the king demanded, his tone icy.
Gustein stammered, his voice high-pitched with panic. “What? No, no, I’m just an ordinary Leporid—nothing special!”
Hesta’s calm voice rang out. “That is a lie.”
Without hesitation, the king raised a hand, and a thin blade of ice materialized, slicing cleanly through Gustein’s left arm. Blood spattered onto the polished floor as Gustein howled in pain, clutching the severed limb. The siblings froze in shock, Ziraiah covering her mouth to stifle a gasp.
Kaelan roared, launching himself at the king, but the Elf lord barely moved. With a flick of his wrist, Kaelan was frozen mid-air by a cage of ice, then dropped unceremoniously to the ground.
Gustein writhed in agony, his cries echoing through the chamber. Yet, before their eyes, his severed arm began to regenerate. Bone and sinew wove themselves together, flesh knitting itself back into place. The process was slow and excruciating, beads of sweat pouring down Gustein’s face as he groaned in pain.
The king’s expression shifted, intrigue replacing disdain. “Quite the impressive ability, Leporid,” he remarked, his tone calm but cold. “I do not tolerate falsehoods—remember that well.”
He leaned back slightly, watching Gustein catch his breath. “Now,” he said, his voice sharp as steel, “tell me the truth. What is your Seed’s ability?”
Still trembling, Gustein answered, his voice hoarse. “I… I can heal any injury or disease.”
The king’s icy gaze remained fixed on him. “Does your power extend to others?”
“Yes,” Gustein admitted, his tone resigned.
The king’s expression became unreadable as he rose from his seat, his silver cape billowing slightly. He took a step forward, his voice measured and firm. “If you can perform one task for me, Leporid, I shall grant you and your companions their freedom.”
Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
He turned toward the door, his presence dominating the room. “Hesta, see to it that they are presentable. Bring them to the castle at dusk.”
With that, the king exited, leaving an air of tension and unease in his wake.
---
A Sigh of Relief
As the grand doors closed behind the king, the suffocating weight of his presence lifted. The air in the chamber seemed to lighten, and the siblings exchanged uneasy glances. Ziraiah knelt beside Kaelan, her eyes filled with concern as she gently touched the block of ice encasing him.
“Is Kaelan… is he dead?” she asked, her voice trembling.
Hesta, standing nearby with her arms crossed, shook her head. “He’s alive. The king’s magic can be undone. He won’t kill without purpose.”
Valerius turned his attention to Gustein, whose chest rose and fell heavily as he cradled his newly regenerated arm. “You had a Seed all along,” Valerius said, his tone tinged with disbelief. “Is that how you healed Kaelan? He told us about Seeds—they’re supposed to be incredibly rare. How did you even find one?”
Gustein scowled, his frustration bubbling over. “That noble bastard! Cutting off my arm like that… he’ll pay for this someday.”
“Mind your words, Leporid,” Hesta said sharply, her tone carrying a warning. “Speaking ill of the king could earn you a swift execution.”
Gustein glared at her, his face red with indignation. “The name’s Gustein!”
Hesta’s stern expression softened slightly, and a sly smile touched her lips. “The king is terrifying, isn’t he?” She glanced at Renia. “Wouldn’t you agree, Renia?”
Renia raised her hands defensively, shaking her head. “Oh no, I’m not getting involved in this conversation.”
Hesta chuckled, clapping her hands once. “Enough of this. Come with me. Let’s get you all cleaned up.”
---
A Private Conversation
The siblings huddled together as they followed Hesta, their voices dropping to a whisper as they spoke in English, their shared language from Earth.
Eryndor’s tone was measured, carrying an air of caution. “We must tread carefully in the presence of the king. His display of power was deliberate—a warning. If we provoke him further, it could cost us more than an arm.”
Ziraiah nodded, her voice tinged with worry. “So, Gustein has a Seed. Is that what Kaelan spoke of?”
Valerius furrowed his brow, glancing at Gustein ahead of them. “It must be. Didn’t Kaelan say Seeds were rare and dangerous? How did Gustein even get one?”
“I suppose that’s how he healed Kaelan,” Ziraiah added. “But why did he lie about it?”
Eryndor’s gaze hardened, and his voice dropped to a near whisper. “Keep your guard up. The people of this world are dangerous. That shadowy man and now the king—they possess powers that dwarf anything we’ve ever encountered. A single mistake could be our undoing. Let us tread carefully.”
Before they could continue, Renia, walking just ahead of them, turned her head slightly. “What language is that?” she asked, her voice laced with curiosity. “I’ve never heard anything like it.”
The siblings hesitated, exchanging quick glances. Before they could respond, Hesta’s voice rang out ahead of them. “I told you to follow me!”
Taking the excuse to avoid answering, they hurried after Hesta, leaving Renia’s question unanswered.
---
Hesta’s Hospitality
The group arrived at a quaint Elven home tucked away in a serene corner of the city. Hesta gestured to the door. “Go on in. I’ll fetch some proper clothes for you.”
The siblings hesitated, exchanging wary glances. Hesta noticed their reluctance and added, “Don’t worry. Nothing bad will happen to you here. You have my word.”
After a moment’s hesitation, they stepped inside. Valerius’s eyes lit up as he took in the elegant simplicity of the home. “This place is… really nice,” he remarked, his voice tinged with surprise.
The siblings wandered through the house, admiring its charm. Valerius paused at a wall adorned with paintings. One depicted Hesta with another young Elf girl, their smiles warm and genuine. Moving further, Valerius entered another room and noticed cups of water sealed with a strange transparent material.
“What’s this?” Valerius muttered, tapping the unfamiliar covering. Curious, he peeled it away and took a sip.
From the other room, Ziraiah’s voice rang out sharply. “Val! What did Eryndor say about being cautious?”
Valerius shrugged, unbothered. “This is her house. No way it’s poisoned.”
Ziraiah rolled her eyes, exasperated. “You know what? Just die. I don’t care.”
The siblings regrouped in what appeared to be the living room. They sat in an awkward silence until Eryndor broke it, his tone dry but refined. “Why so unusually quiet, Gustein? I thought you relished the sound of your own voice.”
Gustein shot him a glare, muttering, “Don’t annoy me.”
Ziraiah leaned forward, her curiosity getting the better of her. “So, where did you get your Seed?”
“It’s none of your business,” Gustein snapped, crossing his arms.
Their exchange was interrupted by Hesta’s return. She carried a bundle of elegant Elven clothing, handing it out to each of them. “Here. You’ll need to take turns using the bathroom to change.”
---
An Audience with the King
As dusk fell, the siblings and Gustein were led to the castle. The grand doors opened with a low groan, revealing the sprawling throne room illuminated by soft golden light. A servant’s voice echoed, announcing their arrival. “They have arrived, my lord.”
Valerius’s breath hitched as he took in the sight before him. The Elven king sat upon a grand throne adorned with intricate carvings and glowing runes. Beside him stood his daughter, a vision of ethereal beauty. Her long blonde hair cascaded down her back, and her sharp blue eyes sparkled like gemstones. She stood at 8 feet 9 inches, her flowing blue dress complementing her regal presence.
Eryndor, standing beside Valerius, whispered, his tone filled with admiration, “My, what unparalleled beauty. She carries a grace that could humble even the heavens.”
The siblings and Gustein knelt on one knee, bowing their heads as they spoke in unison. “We are here, my lord.”
The king gestured for them to rise, his voice firm yet elegant. “Raise your heads. My wife has endured an illness that has plagued her for thirty years. Despite our efforts, no remedy has succeeded. Leporid, I have learned of your extraordinary ability. If you can cure her, I shall grant you not only your freedom but also a reward befitting such a feat.”
As the king spoke, Ziraiah’s attention was drawn to a massive stone tablet to her right. Her eyes widened as she recognized the intricate carvings. She leaned toward Valerius and whispered, “Hey, Val, that’s the language Mom taught us.”
“Where?” Valerius whispered back, his gaze following hers. His eyes widened. “Oh yeah, it kind of looks like Mom’s handwriting.”
The king’s sharp voice cut through their whispers. “What are you murmuring about?”
“Nothi---, ” Valerius began, but before he could finish, Ziraiah punched him in the stomach, silencing him with a groan. She leaned in, whispering harshly, “Do you remember what happened to Gustein when he lied? Use your head for once." She stepped forward and addressed the king directly. “My lord, we were merely discussing the language on the stone.”
The king’s expression turned inquisitive. “Language, you say? What does it reveal?”
The nobles in the room exchanged suspicious glances, their murmurs filling the chamber.
"Could she truly know the ancient tongue?” one noble muttered.
“Is it possible she is deceiving us?” another whispered, his tone dripping with doubt.
“Why would a mere Earther recognize such sacred markings?” a third interjected, his voice tinged with indignation.
Ziraiah steadied herself and replied, “It resembles a language my mother taught us as children. She said it was her native tongue.”
One elderly Elf, clad in ornate robes, stepped forward. “Preposterous!” he exclaimed, his voice echoing through the chamber. “ No one in Yilheim can understand the ancient script. How could an Earther possibly comprehend it?”
The king leaned forward, his gaze narrowing. “This revelation warrants further inquiry. Renia, record her words. The ancient script must not be taken lightly.”
Renia nodded. “Yes, my lord.”
The king’s gaze hardened as he turned back to Gustein. “Leporid, prove your worth. Heal my queen, and your fate will change.”
The siblings stood silently, aware that this moment could define their path forward.
---
To Be Continued…