CHAPTER 16

Stories

Upper Fire Month, 30th day, 8.00

"The training is almost finished, Antilene."

Her body twisted as if performing an elegant dance, a strange choreography in which the tool in her hands had transformed into an instrument marking the rhythm of her performance.

The weapon had become a natural extension of her body, similar to a limb that accompanied the half-elf since birth.

The patron deity of the Theocracy had summoned some wight generals thanks to his skill, using them as guinea pigs for his ward's training.

The spear brandished by the girl shone like a small star in the ajar darkness of the arena, gleaming like the most precious of crystals.

Even the most experienced soldiers would have been challenged by the undead prowess, but in the face of the half-elf's overwhelming strength, they had proven to be helpless piglets in the face of a great predator.

The spear's tip, encrusted with precious gems that increased its power, smashed through the rotting bodies of the undead, reducing them to dust scattered across space.

"Excellent!"

Antilene felt a surge of pride grow inside her chest as Rufus' solemn voice permeated her elves' ears.

"Do you think that's enough for today?" She inquired; her gaze fixed on the shining lance in her hands. Drops of sweat poured from her brow like a spring of pure and limpid water.

"Yes. Although it has been a long time since you wielded it, I am proud to say that mastering Peleus' legacy was a challenge you successfully completed. By now, you know everything about the Gods' sacred equipment." Rufus lowered his dark hood, exposing a portion of his rotten skull.

Anyone who would have witnessed such decay of flesh and limb would have been terrified and disgusted, unable to hide his dread.

Nothing, however, was more familiar and comforting to Antilene than seeing her master in his true form. Each time he revealed himself to her in his full appearance, she felt their bond grow stronger and deeper. Something that only the two of them shared.

It was ironic that something as deteriorating as a living corpse could serve as the foundation for such a strong structure of trust.

"I continue to feel more at ease with Charon's guidance." The half-elf replied, still a little tired from the arduous training. "To be honest, I believe the sacred relic of the Earth God is still better suited as Aeneas' weapon."

"The young captain has certainly cultivated the right affinities for using the sacred legacy of the God Imirduo," Rufus replied, touching his temple in thought. "But I don't think I need to tell you what the fundamental difference between you and him is. And why is essential that you learn to use all the Gods' equipment."

"No need to worry. It would be difficult to forget something like that." The Black Scripture ace's lips curved in a small, satisfied smile.

"In any case," the undead's tone of voice softened. It was an unusual, almost never-occurring experience. "I believe it is time for you to relax in a hot bath. Even I can smell your…peculiar scent now."

Was that a grin? That he is growing in his sense of humor?

A definitely chilling thought. Rufus already possessed the skills and authority to silence a room only with his imposing presence.

As the first disciple of the God of Death, his person was worshiped almost on par with a deity in the flesh -pun intended-.

But if her master started to think of himself as funny, he wouldn't need his creepy appearance or unusual demeanor to achieve that result anymore.

The image of that familiar collection of bones and flesh performing a zinger in front of the Cardinals and Pontifex, who responded by remaining silent in order not to offend his position, was especially amusing to the half-elf.

Indeed, a rather pleasant scene. Maybe seeing it wouldn't have been so bad. At least one time. Or two.

"I'll take a bath then." Anyway, Antilene had to concur with her master. Strange odors were beginning to emanate from her body, which she would have preferred to avoid altogether.

"I'll wait here for you." Replied her teacher, trying to put together some rotten skin that was decaying from his check.

Antilene went to the restroom near the gymnasium where they had been training. She immersed her tired body in that restorative embrace after filling the tub with boiling water.

Nothing better to give these tired old bones a rest. Well, not as tired as Rufus', I guess.

A muffled sound crept gently into her ears as she was intent on relaxing and shaking off the weariness caused by her dedication.

Oh, I hadn't heard that melody in a very long time. How nostalgic.

Notes from Rufus' violin glide gracefully over the strings of the musical instrument. At first, softly, enclosing the half-elf's mind in an enchanted dream.

A rainbow of sounds appeared in her mind, and a parade of colors marched through her imagination, from darkest to lightest hues.

Her muscles regained vigor and vitality, as if from a massage performed beneath her skin. The peace around her was as flat as the desert steppes surrounding Eryuentiu and as silent as Azerlisia's snow-capped mountains. Another dimension altogether, devoid of any form of conflict and suffering.

But all of a sudden, the noise became coarser and more intense. The serenity had vanished, and another modulation had taken its place.

The rumbling roar of an army of horsemen charging infernal hordes, as loud as thunder splitting the vault of heaven in two, was now the object of her fantasies.

Antilene's thoughts were no longer of serenity or relaxation but of great and epic battles that would etch her name in the rivers of history.

She stood above an infinite number of monsters and other abnormalities that threatened her home, like the most valiant of the knights. A bygone era's hero, worthy of immortality in minstrel ballads and being remembered as a champion of humanity.

Eventually, the sound became sad and melancholy. It had the flavor of nostalgia, of a past age that was fondly remembered. The ace of humanity's memories of Nazaire's homemade meals became more vivid as she recalled her old wet nurse; the sweetness and love of her cooking, of her affection, was a blow to the half-elf's heart, who could barely hold back the tears that started to peep in her eyes.

But there was also hopelessness in that melody. The soft wails of desperate mothers who had lost their children; men who buried their brothers and sisters with all their strength, foolishly refusing to mourn the fallen.

It was a song, a song of war and reminiscences. Of hate and love.

When it ceased, Antilene stepped out of the tub. Her being back to full strength. She felt as if the world was too small for her, as a worthy challenge called in hope to be accomplished.

The half-elf dressed and returned to her preceptor, by now intent on placing his instrument back in the precious case.

He had re-hidden his blasphemous features under the layers of clothes, cloaks, and gloves that shielded the outside world from him. Or that protected him from the outside world.

"It's been a long time since I've heard you play."

"Yes," the undead replied to her, contemplating the object between his fingers. "This old violin is like me. If it is not used for a long time, there is a risk that someone will forget about it. I hope I haven't disturbed your moment of relaxation with my modest strumming."

"No," retorted the half-elf with a caring half-smile, hoping to comfort him. "It was very...nice. You know I always like to hear you play."

"Unfortunately, the time to devote to music is not always as much as I desire." Was that bitterness she read in his eyes? Or remorse?

"I thought the time was the one thing you didn't lack," had her voice reached the soothing tones she was trying to convey? "That neither of us was short of it."

"Maybe when you have something in abundance, you don't realize how fast it can slip through your hands." He peered at the finely carved mahogany wood case with guilt, bordering on shame. "Or maybe, it's just an excuse we say to ourselves to feel better."

"Rufus?"

"Yes?"

"I will never forget you!"

"…I know." What were a corpse's tears made of? Blood? Dust? Or simple nothingness? "I know. I will never forget you either, little Antilene."

"I'm not little anymore." An adorable pout peeped out on the half-elf's face.

"To me, you will always remain the shy little girl who entered one day through an immense gateway, squeezing into her arms for courage." Rufus laughed; the sadness on his face was replaced by a pleasant memory.

"Am I not adorable now?" She accused him, conveying false displeasure.

"Humph." He did not take up her provocation. "Shall we go?" He asked her, stowing his items in an infinite haversack. "We still have a long day ahead of us."

"Yes." Antilene picked up Peleus' Legacy, gripping it tightly. "We must take this little one to where its friends rest."

"Okay," Rufus began to walk -actually, floating would have been the more indicated word- toward the treasure room. "I want to compile that memorial for Captain Guelfi before the day is out."

The corridors of the Cathedral of Darkness were, as usual, empty and lifeless. Almost as if even the smallest sigh could have disturbed that unreal peace, not even a whisper could be heard in that sacred place.

Antilene and her guardian, side by side, shoulder to shoulder, walked down a small corridor that led to the shrine's treasury. Not a word was uttered between the two, but embarrassment was hardly noticeable.

When two people have known each other for years, or rather centuries, useless words were replaced by silences denser with meaning.

Who knows what will happen today? Something interesting or the usual monotony?

Before entering the hall, the girl turned her gaze to one of the windows placed on the sides of the hallway.

"Look, Rufus, it's raining today."

"I noticed," actually the patron deity did not seem to have paid much attention. "You can see that the Water Goddess has granted us her blessing today."

Rather than speaking of rain, it would have been more accurate to define the outside event as a storm. Even from the view clouded by the glass, it was possible to perceive the clamor of the wind and the intensity with which the water was descending on the land.

I suppose staying enclosed here all the time sometimes has its advantages.

"I hope all this water doesn't cause problems for ordinary people." A slight bending of concern was present in her remark.

"Nothing to worry about," the undead reassured her. "This is also a gift, a precious gift sent by the Gods. The men of the Theocracy, as you well know, are more than capable of harnessing it."

"You are right. But I can't help but worry. Stupid, I know."

"That's normal. You have watched over the people below for so long that you believe their welfare is also part of your responsibility." Now he was the one trying to comfort her. That was how their relationship worked. When one of them fell, the other was ready to catch him.

They made each other stronger.

"Do you think I should let go more often?" Was her question.

"I think your apprehension is a precious treasure. More than your powers, your talent, your strength, that is the characteristic that most attests to the fact that the blood of my creators flows in you." Was his sincere reply.

"Thank you." It was the only thing Antilene managed to say. But even though it was a mere single sentence, it was more than enough to express how she felt. Sometimes the only alternative is to take old words and hope they can say something new together.

They arrived. Rufus threw open the doorway that divided the remnants of a time now past and unreachable from the rest of the world.

Who is he?

Before them, they found a figure with a bowed head, contemplating the circular effigy depicting the symbols of the Six Great Gods, positioned in the center of the room.

As soon as the man noticed them, he hastened to perform a sumptuous bow, his torso reaching the width of a right angle with superhuman speed.

By his side, a few books and a familiar headdress floated, shrouded in a shimmering violet light.

Ah, now I recognize him.

The half-elf had no trouble identifying him now that she watched the man better. He was, after all, one of her direct superiors and the current Cardinal of Darkness of the Slane Theocracy.

Maximilian Oreio Lagier.

"I apologize for disturbing you, Lady Zesshi, First Disciple," he was calm and composed, not a single emotion leaking from his words filled with respect. "But I wanted to request access to one of the journals of the Six Great Gods."

The thick lenses of the glasses he wore reflected a twinkle of curiosity and thirst for knowledge from his brown eyes.

"Hum," Rufus considered the question, squaring his interlocutor carefully. "Which one, in particular, would you like to examine, Shard of Surshana?"

The Cardinal returned to expressing reverence by contorting his body into a second bow. His long, sinuous hair, the same color as his irises, slid gracefully over the cloak that covered his shoulders.

"I need to reread the accounts left to us by Alah Alaf, your Holiness." The way he scanned his words, the inflection of his voice, and the reverence that seeped from his every single gesture, made Antilene certain that that simple request had been practiced hundreds and hundreds of times until perfection was achieved.

"In accordance with protocol, there should be no problem," the undead began to elaborate. "First, however, it is necessary to explain in detail the reason for the request."

"Certainly," Maximillian fiddled with the hairs of the small goatee sticking out of his chin, as he searched for the simplest way to explain his motivations. "My department and the judicial branch are working on drafting a new civil code. Rereading the notes inherited from the God of Light is crucial to the initial phase of the project."

The Patron Deity wasted no time in giving his response. "The request is accepted but," he continued, staring at the man from his high posture, "the reading may take place only in the confined space of these rooms, under my complete supervision."

"Of course. I defer to the will of the First Disciple." The cardinal willingly accepted those conditions without batting an eyelash.

"Then, wait. I will go and get it from my personal library."

Having said this, in the blink of a second, Rufus made his way to the room where all the writings attesting to the history of the Theocracy were kept under his care.

Left alone, an uncomfortable quiet fell over Antilene and Maximilian. After putting the sacred spear back in its place, the Black Scripture ace pondered what was the proper thing to say.

This is my first time left alone with him. What is the best method to melt the ice? Think, Antilene, think.

"So," the half-elf began timidly, to end the uneasy silence. "Why is it necessary to compile a new civil code?"

"Oh," the man gave a little cry of surprise, shocked by that seemingly trivial question. "The current one dates back more than a hundred and fifty years ago. We felt, me and the higher echelons of the judicial department, that it was time to update it with the many laws that have been enacted in this long span of time."

Antilene had to admit to herself that she couldn't clearly understand the meaning of that choice. "Is it really such an important task?"

"Crucial!" Maximilian replied in a burst of pride. The way he expressed his emotion was in stark contrast with the idea of the austere man the extra-seat of the Black Scripture had of him. "Simplification is the basis of an efficient legal system. When laws are clear and not scattered, investment is encouraged and the welfare of the population grows."

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"The mechanism by which all of this works is not entirely understandable to me." She admitted with embarrassment, a slight blush on her cheeks.

"How can I explain it to you?" The Cardinal interjected; his bright, intelligent eyes stopped on one of the books floating at his side. "Imagine that you are a merchant who wants to expand his business and open another store in a different region from where he currently operates. If the legal system does not work, then his competitors will be able to act unfairly against him to hurt his affairs without him being able to do anything to be able to stop them, at least without resorting to the same dishonest methods."

"Without laws therefore there would be chaos," Antilene continued. "At least I can claim to know that."

The cardinal nodded at her constatation. "When the state acquires a monopoly on what we call public force," Surshana's fragment had resumed with his explanation, "it puts an end to the chaos, but on it also rests responsibilities to ensure swift justice for its citizens."

Maximilian handed her one of the writings he always carried with him. The rough cover of the book was grasped with precision by the half-elf.

"If the legal system is slow, if the laws are numerous and confusing, court disputes will drag on for years, and legal fees will be a noose around the entrepreneur's neck. In that book I just gave you, notes on canon law, it is precisely explained how this process comes to life in the various stages of civility. I wrote it myself; I hope you appreciate the gift." He smiled for the first time since the conversation began.

Contrary to what Antilene might have assumed, his happy face was more radiant than a ray of sunshine.

Never judge a book by its cover. I suppose.

"I think I am starting to understand it," ventured the half-elf, in truth still not entirely convinced. "Conversely, if the legal system works and is efficient, the hypothetical merchant will be able to start his new business with less worry. And even if there should be a dispute, it will be resolved quickly. Right?"

"Exactly," confirmed the former judge. "Of course, things are more complex than that. But I think you have a rough idea of the situation."

"And to be specific, what kind of problems does a judge as you deal with?" Antilene's face contracted into a curious expression, her mind hungry for wisdom.

"I am no longer a judge," he corrected her. "But I would say that my old job consisted of..."

"Stories!"

Rufus had returned from his brief excursion from his library, as always without making not even the shadow of a noise; beside him, a pair of manuscripts hovered in the air in the same manner as the Cardinal of Darkness moved them.

"This is certainly an interesting way of looking at things." Rebutted the Surshana fragment.

"Alah Alaf himself used to call stories the focus of a jurist's work." The undead handed the objects of his research to Maximillian, who clutched them as if they were more precious than his own life.

"I think I've lost my train of thought." Confusion could be read as easily as a child picture book in Antilene's eyes. "What do stories have to do with it now?"

"Do you remember the legend of the Great Penitent?" The Guardian Deity questioned her, even if he was already aware of her answer.

"Of course," the half-elf still did not catch on. "I have heard it so many times that I can recite it by heart."

"And..?" Her master urged her.

"It goes back to the time when the Gods had just descended to our mortal plane. It is the story of a man who tried to steal a magical item sacred to the Deities."

"And do you remember why he did that? And how did the story end?" Her mentor's haughtiness was beginning to irritate her.

"Starting from the motives, I'm sure the man wanted to use that object to heal his sister of an illness deemed incurable. When Alah Alaf learned of this, he decided to forgive him for his misdeed. The man, to repay him for his generosity, became one of the most fervent followers of the God of light."

Antilene did not have to think much about it; it was a story that anyone who had lived in the Theocracy for more than a year was bound to know. "It is one of the classic fables told to show children the generosity of the Gods."

"Everything you have said, Lady Zesshi, is absolutely correct," the Cardinal interjected, adjusting his glasses, which were falling on his nose. "But let me humbly explain what the First Disciple is trying to tell you."

"Go ahead." She urged him.

"To begin with, you should know that this fable, as you called it, is one of the first topics covered by new law students. It is considered, by legal historians, to be the first evidence of trial within the Theocracy."

"That I can comprehend." Her gaze turned to the cardinal; the color of her pupils reflected in the glass of the man's goggles. "But why then are stories the object of lawmen's work?"

"What did the God of light do, before passing judgment, but eviscerate the sinner's personal story? Only when he understood deeply his motives, his personal life, and his circumstances, he was able to make the decision that proved most effective."

"Alah Alaf was convinced that it was the natural duty of the judge, before passing his verdict, to analyze every last detail that had prompted the person to commit the crime," Rufus had assumed his usual professor-like manner, immersed in the memories of his creators. "That way the punishment to be applied would be as fair as possible. The gaze of the Gods, after all, is directed not only toward the present and the past but also toward the future."

"That doesn't sound like something easy." Antilene pondered while her eyebrows furrowed.

"No, it isn't," Maximilian confirmed. "Numerous mistakes, no matter how relentless our efforts and no matter how much magic may come to our aid, are made every day. Be aware, spells can help us discover the how of a crime, but not the why. Nevertheless, what comes after the crime itself is discovered and judgment is passed is still part of our duties . Everyone deserves another chance to be able to serve the words of the Gods."

In that case, however, a person's life and future could depend on these mistakes. It was an onerous, extremely delicate obligation on which an individual's entire future could hang. Perhaps she was not the only one on whom deep responsibility rested.

"But, isn't there a risk that such a painstaking search could lead to slower proceedings?" If speeding up the process was one of the goals to be achieved, wasn't what had just been explained to her a contradiction?

"There is." His preceptor and the cardinal replied in unison. "This is precisely why the law is an incredibly delicate matter, the interests to be taken into account are many and varied. Nevertheless, it is our sacred duty to move forward and try to reach God's perfection."

The Gods could count on infinite wisdom and foresight beyond human comprehension to be able to assess what was the best course of action. But men cannot. We are fallacious and imperfect. How can we compare?

"Thank you for the explanation, Cardinal Maximilian." She lowered her head slightly, in appreciation. Her gesture was appreciated by the Cardinal, who reciprocated.

"Now I think it is time for me to go about my business. Excuse me."

Maximilian holed up in a secluded corner of the room, where he could begin to calmly study the manuscripts.

"I had better position myself on guard as well. See you later, Rufus."

Rufus looked at his disciple, merely nodding his arm in greeting before returning to his duties.

Out in the hallway, leaning against that now-familiar wall, Antilene began leafing through the gift she had received.

She read a couple of pages. She reread them again. And then another time.

This is much more difficult than I thought. But in order to understand our society, it is an essential step.

Alone in the darkness, the half-elf spent hours immersed in those rivers of ink, searching for answers to her lingering queries.

Upper Fire Month, 30th day, 8.00

Logem knocked on the small wooden door. No response.

He knocked again. No answer. The rays of the morning sun warming his skin were beginning to annoy him.

He knocked a third time. Still nothing. Should he have forced the lock, he asked himself?

He knocked... Agravaine opened the door, glaring at him.

"You could at least give me time to open it before you try to break down the door."

"I'll try to be nicer next time," he replied, settling into the small living room without waiting to be invited in. "How are things progressing?"

"I see you're not paying compliments," Agravaine admonished him after she noticed that the elf had already sat down in a chair pulled up next to the table. "Things haven't changed much since the last report I sent you. The forest roads have never been so calm; both factions are too afraid to penetrate into Evasha's interior."

"I see." That was Logem's only observation on the issue.

"Our alliance with the Wood Giants has brought many benefits. Other than their military aid, they do not need food, but they manage to produce plenty of it through their Druidic magic," the woman continued, without waiting for further exhortation. "In return, all we have to do is provide them with information about the war. A truly lucrative deal, don't you think?"

"Yes," the man's nose curled slightly, intent on a deep sigh. "Agravaine, we need to talk!"

"I know," the elf was certainly not easy to catch off guard. And after working with the former hero for so many years, she had learned to recognize instantly when something was perturbing him. "Otherwise, you wouldn't have come here!"

Logem began fiddling with the pendant he wore around his neck, its rhomboid shape passing swiftly between his fingers. A memento of another time, another life. "You see..."

"Wait," his interlocutor interrupted him. "Let me make some tea first, to make you comfortable."

Logem knew he did not deserve all that thoughtfulness, but he dared not contradict her. He merely gave the woman a nod of assent with his good eye and contorted his face into a semblance of a smile-more correct to call it a grimace-to let her know he appreciated the gesture.

"Would you like some milk?"

"Yes. Please pour it into the glass before the tea. I prefer it this way."

"Here you go."

Logem took the bowl containing the decoction, being careful not to scald himself. As he savored the drink, a taste reminiscent of the velvety texture of milk tickled his palate.

"So, what should we talk about?" Agravaine had sat next to him, also intent on sipping the tea from a little cup.

Logem thought about what was the best way to break the news. Try to go around it, and tell a half-truth? Or attempt to sweeten the pill?

He looked at Agravaine. Any attempt that was not the plain and simple truth would have been discovered in a split second. She knew him too well.

"Argland. We can no longer sort refugees there."

She said nothing. Her silence was more unnerving than any words he could have imagined.

"Why?" Merely asked the elf.

He tried to look into her eyes, but their color brought back too many painful memories; so, he lowered his gaze, like a coward.

"My possessions are overflowing now. And the elves' deputies have too many exiles at the moment. They barely know how to handle the current ones." He began to explain, trying to put the best words together. "Also, there seem to be some problems at the border. And the various representatives think it is more prudent not to worsen relations with the Theocracy."

"What kind of problems?" Agravaine took another sip from her glass, the trembling of her hands unable to hide her discomfort.

"I don't know all the details exactly. They merely told me that one of the empires to the north is developing a strong expansionist policy after a long period of civil war. The dragon advisors believe that, for now, it is more far-sighted to cultivate relations with neighboring states, partly to avoid a new wave of evacuees, especially from the north." If there was anything the elf could not stand, it was having only cursory information about something that concerned him so closely.

"They have therefore decided to abandon us to our fate? Leave us all to die here like animals?"

"Yes."

The woman remained motionless for a few seconds, without uttering the slightest sigh. Then she stood up, put down the now empty cups, and said, "Okay, we need to find other safe places for our refugees. Some can hide in the territory of the wood giants, while we can try to sort others out in some nearby nations such as the Baharut Empire or the Kingdom of Re-Estize. They don't look kindly on us elves either, but still better than the Theocracy. Besides, it will be good not to separate too many families, especially ones with children. We will have to prepare homogeneous groups and make sure adequate support is provided. And then..."

Words began to pour out of his mouth like water out of an overflowing stream. As if she did not need to breathe, she spewed all her anxieties and fears at him.

"Calm down," Logem intimated to her. "You can calmly think later about what will be the appropriate course of action."

"Oh yeah?" She replied, clearly irritated. A throbbing vein was visible on her forehead. "You may not have noticed, so immersed in your grand plans, but there is a war out there. And hundreds of our kind are dying every day!"

"Do you think I don't know that?" They were both raising their voices, totally unlike them. "But if you let yourself become discouraged you will only make things worse. Didn't you say things have been proceeding slowly lately? We'll find a solution, don't worry."

"I... I don't know if I can trust your words." The anger was gone, replaced by another kind of emotion. One that Logem knew all too well.

"If you don't believe in me, believe in yourself." He pointed his finger at her, almost as if he might be accusing her. "If anyone can help our people, it's you."

"Do you really believe that?"

"...Yes, I really believe that."

She hugged him. Her breath caressed his chest as the heat of her body enveloped him. "I'm sorry I got so worked up."

"You took it much better than I did."

"What did you do?"

"Let's say that, for a while, one of the representatives will share a characteristic in common with me." He pointed to the area of his face where his missing eye once used to rest. "Don't worry, unlike me, he will be able to recover his sight in a few days. Maybe a few weeks."

A laugh at last. Too bad it was consumed with the rapidity of a fire fueled by a small match.

"When is this going to end?" Why was she looking at him like that? As if he had all the answers to her questions? He was not the rope to hold onto to keep from slipping into the abyss. Not him. "Will our suffering ever come to an end someday?"

"I made a promise to you when we met, remember? One day I will kill our father! On that, you can be sure." It was an oath he had made in blood, and he would carry it with him until he died.

He would make it a reality, or perish in doing so.

"I just want the war to end. It has been going on for more than a hundred years. And I... I feel I have now reached the limit. Or I am on the verge of it. All I see is a bottomless ravine. A hundred winters of hardship, a hundred springs of sorrow, a hundred summers of despair, and a hundred autumns of regret. That's too many, Logem, even for an elf."

Agravaine's voice was broken with tears. He was one of the thirteen heroes, immortalized in legends and stories told in every corner of the world. So why couldn't he stop her from being so sad? Those tears caused him more pain than all the battles he had fought with the Evil Deities.

They were more poisonous than the venom of that horrifying Insect, more lacerating than the sword of the Fiend Knight, more insidious than the words of those accursed Brothers. Facing the Demon King's magic, too, would have been a more pleasant prospect.

Hero. What an empty word devoid of any meaning. A term attributed by fools to even more foolish men and women. Just because I am called that, in no sense means I can make the impossible possible.

"Now I must go," as he headed for the door, an unbearable weight seemed to block his legs. Yet nothing was blocking his path.

My body implores me to stay here and rest. My mind pleads with me to let go of my goal, just for a day. An invisible force appealing to my whole being, to try to preserve what remains sane in me.

He arrived at the door. Agravaine was next to him, ready to give him her greetings.

But my soul triumphs once again over common sense and reason. As it always has, and as it always will. Am I a fool? Yes, I am sure of it. But in my insanity, I have given meaning to this pathetic life. How many can say the same?

As they took their leave outside the dwelling, the great star in the sky greeted them with the most sincere and warmest of his salutations.

"I am sure that one day all the king's children will be able to look up to the sky and see hope in the sun's rays." Contemplated Agravaine.

"The problem is that the king does not produce offspring," said Logem, ready to go his own way, "but only martyrs."

The day had passed as quickly as it had begun. Agravaine was right, not that he doubted her, but that unreal calm was more frightening than any magical beast he had ever faced.

I could even dispense with my ranger skills to blend into the vegetation. It seems unreal, is this the real Evasha's forest?

By now the sun had given way to its sister moon. The darkness of the night was much more pleasant for the elf, who continued to wander among the foundations. Looking for anything that could arouse his interest.

He arrived at the shores of a lake. Moonlight reflected off it, weaving a marvelous optical illusion of a glowing path of light straddling the surface of the body of water.

So beautiful.

For a moment, just for a moment, Logem forgot about the conflict, about the Theocracy, about his plans. Of everything.

Only he and that fairy spectacle remained.

Could this be the fairy path of which the legends speak? How ironic, if indeed a nonbeliever like me is the first to find it.

He squashed that silly thought. Of course, it was just a natural phenomenon. Only a corny poet could have found something magical in that mundane landscape.

Again, he thought about the conversation he had that morning, and the sorrow his sister was feeling.

If only one of my plans had succeeded. But no matter how hard I try, I can't find a way to get rid of that bastard.

He began to run his index finger over the scar covering his lost eye. Would he ever be able to get rid of that tic?

The last plan also proved to be a failure. If only I could ascertain the existence of that supposed wonder child.

He scratched even harder, feeling that before long the blood would start gushing from the old wound again. But he could not stop. He didn't want to stop. The relief was too much.

I am pathetic. If only I were stronger.

The laws that governed the world knew how to be unjust more than any bureaucrat. The last decades spent training had proved perfectly useless; it was as if his limit had been reached centuries ago when he was still a wayfarer.

Bah, feeling sorry for myself is not my style. Perhaps it is the sight that drove me to this melancholy, better to leave.

He resumed his walk, the time for rest was over.

"Are you going somewhere? Why don't you stay here a while with me?"

Just as he heard that voice calling him, he noticed that his surroundings had changed. A layer of fog had covered the area entirely, blocking part of his peripheral vision.

"[Search][Spot]"

He activated his ranger skills to locate the source of that call.

"No need to get worked up. I'm right here."

To his surprise, the mysterious interlocutor appeared before his eye without even trying to hide.

"Who are you?" Logem asked, mist still covering the figure of the other party.

"A friend." Now that he heard it more clearly, the elf had no doubt the owner of that voice was a woman.

Slowly, her silhouette took shape. It was unusual. Definitely not an elf, but neither could she be called human.

Everything, from her appearance to the sumptuous, jewel-covered clothes she wore, was of an immaculate, resplendent whiteness arousing wonder and admiration. Dust and dirt seemed completely foreign concepts to her, while the candor of her skin shone with blinding purity.

She moved with grace and elegance, her every step showing confidence and assurance. It was the gait of a queen, of a woman aware that she was worth more than any treasure existing in the world.

"Stop!" Logem intimated to her, when she was now only a few meters away from him.

Now he could see her face clearly; he realized that was the first time he had seen such a breathtaking woman. Maybe he should have let her come a little closer, let their bodies merge, and then...

No, what am I thinking? Maybe I am under the effect of a charm spell? But my medallion is supposed to protect me from all the tier 5 and lower magic that provoke negative status effects.

He unsheathed the short sword he always carried with him as he tried to keep his mind clear of unnecessary thoughts.

"See, you have nothing to be afraid of. I'm not moving from here." The woman had stopped at his command, raising her hands to show him that he had nothing to fear. Her nails were so long and thin, it was not hard to imagine them intent on piercing a man's flesh. Logem imagined those hands penetrating his whole being as a shiver of pleasure shook his entire body.

Each syllable she uttered was like sighs whispering phrases of love and lust to the elf's chest. Every phoneme sounded a thrill to his ears. The man felt himself flaming, in the grip of an unknown desire. His cheeks turned bright red like the fiercest flames, and his heart began to beat faster and faster, trying to escape from that cage in which it was trapped. The symbol of his manhood straightened to pay his respects to such an awe-inspiring vision.

Was that concupiscence?

"I don't know what you are doing, but I command you to stop! Or I will be forced to take action!"

The woman reacted with a satisfied grin at his angry outburst, like an adult watching a child try to foolishly imitate grown-ups.

"So, you can stand your ground? That's to be expected, from one of the Greed Progeny."

"What did you call me?" Asked the elf, astonished and intrigued by that strange name. His mind was finally beginning to return to normal, his thoughts becoming sharper again.

"Oh," the woman replied with a smile filled with surprise. Logem noticed at that moment that rather than teeth, she had sharp jaws inside her mouth. "I beg your pardon. If I remember correctly in these parts those like you are called Shards of Sin. Perhaps that name is more familiar to you."

"It still doesn't ring a bell." Why was she apostrophizing him with those strange nicknames? What were they hiding?

"Well, it doesn't matter," she chuckled. The sound of her snickering sounded like a wail from the depths of hell.

"Now, tell me what you want!" Logem puffed out his chest, to show her he was not fearful. Or perhaps to prove it to himself.

"No need to be so hasty sweetie," rather than trying to calm him down, she seemed intent on teasing him. Was it fun to see him so agitated? "I bring you good news after all."

"If this is just a diabolical prank, I swear..."

"The one you are searching for exists."

"Who?" Inquired the man, baffled.

"The person you've been chasing for such a long time," she explained curtly. "The miracle child."

"And how do you know I'm looking for them?" He clicked his tongue, producing a dry noise. "More importantly, how are you certain of their existence?"

"Questions, questions. Aren't you happy to know that your dream is about to come true?" She stared at him, expecting an answer. There was none. "I notice from your serious look that you are not entirely convinced."

Logem stepped back, expecting an attack at any moment.

If a fight breaks out, I can't imagine myself coming out on top. I'd better think about finding an escape route.

"So, you don't intend to trust me?" The woman remained motionless, with no intention of changing her position.

"So far you haven't given me any motivation to do so." The short sword continued to be unsheathed, to measure the distance between the two.

She looked at him, her irises also pure white as snow, like the rest of her body. That look would have bewitched even the most chaste of men.

"What if I told you that one of my companions met him? Even if he is now unable to tell a soul about it." Rather than regret the subject in question, she seemed amused.

Whatever had happened to that self-styled comrade, she must have found it vaguely humorous.

"Even if I were to believe you," the elf ventured a modicum of trust, "why are you telling me all this?"

For the first moment since that strange encounter had begun, she gave him the semblance of a serious answer. "Call it simple curiosity. Or maybe I have some secret plan that I can't reveal to you. Which of the two, I wonder."

"Do you find all this funny?"

"Very!" She didn't even attempt to disguise her perversion. A trickle of disgust took root in Logem's soul.

"I'd say it's time to say goodbye," with a clap of her hands, the fog began to dissipate. "I am curious to see what your future will be like, son of the king."

How does she…

And just as the woman had arrived, she disappeared.

Was it a dream? Or reality?

What had happened? Had he fallen asleep or had that strange apparition actually happened? More importantly, had she told him the truth or just a silly story?

Still confused by the meaning of the woman's words, the elf began to think about that revelation he just received.

The twitch on his scar grew even stronger.