A burst of light drew everyone's attention as Elara appeared above the elder, her wings shimmering with agitation and her expression teetering between manic glee and simmering frustration.

"Oh, fantastic, look at you all!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms wide as she darted toward the gathered villagers. "A mob of torch-wielding brutes, ready to 'solve' a problem by stabbing it. Brilliant strategy! Truly, top-tier thinking."

She spun in midair, jabbing a finger at the elder. "And you, Captain Cranky—congratulations on doing nothing useful while this child is literally being eaten alive by mist. A gold star for you!" Her voice pitched upward, a manic grin splitting her face. "Oh wait—there are no gold stars in this world! Too bad, huh?"

The elder scowled, trying to regain control of the situation. "Who are you to—"

"Shush, old man!" she snapped, jamming her hands into her satchel with a flurry of exaggerated movements. "I'm here to fix your mess and make sure you don't screw it up worse! And believe me, you will screw it up worse."

Hovering over Sarah, Elara whipped out the Hat of Purity, its absurdity stunning the already tense crowd into silence. The hat was the same as always: enormous, bright pink, and bedecked with jangling bells that clashed discordantly with each movement. The poorly sewn symbols of faeries and twisting runes sprawled across its surface looked like the result of a hyperactive child armed with a dull needle and far too much enthusiasm.

"Ta-da!" Elara proclaimed, holding it high like a sacred artifact. "The glorious, the magnificent Hat of Purity! Fashioned to humiliate, but functional enough to make up for it."

Henry sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Did you really just take that off my head? You could have asked."

"Obviously!" Elara shot back with a wicked grin.

Without waiting for consent, she plopped the hat onto Sarah's head. The bells jingled obnoxiously, and the mismatched runes flickered to life, casting a faint, chaotic glow over her pale face. Almost immediately, the red streaks across Sarah's skin began to fade, her breaths coming slower and steadier. The transformation wasn't perfect, but it was enough to draw an audible gasp from the onlookers.

For a moment, hope flickered in the eyes of the villagers. But then the elder's jaw tightened as the bells on Sarah's hat chimed again, his expression darkening into one of suspicion and mounting anger. The murmurs of the villagers, hushed at first, began to rise in volume, a tide of distrust threatening to break.

"You've brought witchcraft here," the elder growled, pointing a gnarled finger at Henry. "This... thing you've done with the hat. It's unnatural. You think we'll just let you walk away with that child after corrupting the hat with your magic?"

Henry stood, Sarah cradled in his arms, the ridiculous Hat of Purity jingling with each tremor of his grip. Elara flitted beside him, her grin unfazed by the rising hostility.

"Unnatural?" Elara scoffed, throwing her arms wide. "This hat is the pinnacle of magical fashion, you ungrateful sack of wrinkles. You're lucky I don't enchant your robes to match it!"

The elder raised his hand, and the villagers and guards began to close in, their tools and makeshift weapons catching the firelight. "Enough! We'll deal with the curse-bringers here and now."

Henry's heartbeat pounded in his ears, the weight of Sarah in his arms grounding him as his panic sharpened into resolve. The wand in his hand thrummed with latent power, a heat building at its core that matched the anger bubbling in his chest.

"You're not taking her," he said, his voice low and firm.

The elder took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. "You have no say in this, boy."

Elara's grin widened, her voice a singsong taunt. "Oh, this is going to get messy. Do you want me to count down, or...?"

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Henry didn't wait. He gently lowered Sarah to the ground before he thrust the wand forward, unleashing a raw burst of mist magic that exploded outward in a wild, swirling wave. The air filled with a dense, unnatural fog that crackled with energy, its eerie glow casting distorted shadows across the stunned crowd. Bells clanged discordantly as the villagers screamed, their shouts turning to chaos as they stumbled and scrambled to escape.

The elder's voice cut through the confusion. "Run! It's the mist—he's calling it!"

The villagers scattered, their courage melting into fear as the thick mist obscured everything but the faint shimmer of Elara's wings. The elder's silhouette lingered for a moment, his expression torn between fury and terror, before he disappeared into the haze.

As the mist began to dissipate, Henry stood still, his chest heaving. He tightened his hold on Sarah, her breaths steady but shallow, and glanced at Elara. She was hovering nearby, arms crossed and an expression of gleeful amusement on her face.

"Well, that was dramatic," she said, giving an approving nod. "And they call the hat unnatural now? Please." She waved dismissively. "At least it's useful."

As Henry listened to Elara ramble, he knelt briefly beside Sarah, adjusting the oversized, jingling hat on her head. Her eyelids fluttered, and she murmured softly.

He looked up at Elara, who hovered impatiently. "Is she going to be okay?"

Elara spun on Henry, her energy unrelenting. "There! Fixed—for now. She's got a fighting chance, but don't get too comfortable. The mist is stubborn..." She jabbed a finger at him, her grin sharp and unrelenting. "So keep her alive. And yourself, too, while you're at it. If you keel over, this whole situation lands squarely in my lap, and trust me, I have better things to do than clean up after your heroic tendencies."

Henry met her gaze steadily. "I'm not leaving her. Wherever I go, she goes."

"Good!" Elara crowed, clapping her hands. "Because leaving her would be dumb. And dumb isn't your look—usually. But if you try anything stupid, I'll make sure you regret it in ways you can't even imagine."

Carefully, Henry lifted Sarah into his arms again. The jingling bells of the hat clanged wildly, mocking the gravity of the moment, but he ignored them, his focus razor-sharp.

He glanced back toward the village, now shrouded in mist and shadow. The silhouettes of the villagers were barely visible, but he could feel their fear and hostility lingering like a heavy fog.

"If any of you try to stop me," Henry shouted, his voice carrying through the silence, "you'll wish the mist got to you first."

The crowd parted, unease rippling through them as Henry, Sarah in his arms and the ridiculous hat jingling with every step, strode away. Elara flitted beside him, her wings a blur of restless energy and her expression dancing between amusement and exasperation.

"Where to?" he asked, his eyes narrowing on Elara, who hovered in front of him with a wide, unsettling grin.

"Oh, where to, where to, where to?" she sang, her voice lilting like the twist of a knife. "The stars will guide us—or maybe they won't! Fickle little things, like fireflies, like shadows. Sometimes they lead to treasure, sometimes to lovely, lonely prisons."

Henry's jaw tightened. "I'm not interested in prisons, Elara. I've had enough of people locking me up and calling me cursed just for trying to help."

Elara's grin sharpened, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Help? Silly, silly boy! They don't want help, Henry—they want something to burn! A witch for the pyre. And oh, how well we play the part, don't we?" She twirled midair, her wings flickering with restless energy.

His fists clenched, voice trembling with controlled fury. "Enough games, Elara. What are we going to do for a cure? And don't start with any of your twisted nonsense."

She leaned closer, her grin fading to something thin and dangerous. Her voice dropped to a whisper, eyes alight with wild intensity. "But I know the cure, Henry. Certain death cures all ills. Clean. Final. True." She cocked her head, smile curling at the edges. "Would you like that?"

Henry's anger erupted, his voice rising like a whip. "Don't you dare talk like that," he spat, stepping forward. "Sarah's not going to die. I'll find a way to save her, no matter what it costs me. She is going to live. Do you understand?"

Elara blinked, her expression unreadable, though her wings stilled for a fleeting moment. Then her smile returned, slow and sly. "Such fire," she murmured, tone almost admiring. "Very well, Henry. You want a cure? A true cure?" She tilted her head back, grin widening into something wicked.

She gestured theatrically to the horizon. "Frieter. The city on the edge of the world with towers that scrape the sky and streets thick with lies and treasures and hidden, beating hearts." Her eyes gleamed darkly. "They say the adventurers there know all about cures... and curses."

He felt the weight of her words settle on him, cold and foreboding, but he forced a nod. "Then that's where we're going."

Elara's grin stretched wider, and she twirled again, laughing softly as though savoring the tension. "To the edge of the world, silly boy," she said, voice light but eyes dark. "Follow me, if you dare."

She darted off without waiting, a streak of shimmering chaos in the darkness. Henry hesitated for only a moment before gripping the wand tighter and adjusting Sarah's weight in his arms.

"Hold on, Sarah," he murmured, his voice soft but fierce. "I'm going to save you."

And then he followed Elara into the night, toward whatever awaited them at the edge of the world.