The princess didn’t linger in the stream, her instincts flaring like wildfire beneath her skin. Something dangerous watched her, hidden in the shifting darkness. She hauled herself from the chilly waters, goosebumps rising along her bare skin as droplets cascaded from her lithe form. Her heart thudded violently in her chest, every beat screaming at her to move faster.

  Quickly slipping into her silk undergarments, Elle shivered as the wet fabric clung to her chilled body. She fumbled desperately to gather her scattered belongings: the leather boots Ashra had given her, small packets of food, and whatever trinkets she had managed to keep hold of. The impending danger intensified, pressing down on her with the weight of a thousand unseen eyes. The once clear, serene stream now felt hostile, the darkness heavy and oppressive.

  Elle opened her mouth to call for Ashra, but no sound emerged. Her voice was gone, snatched away as though by some unseen hand. Panic surged through her, eyes darting through the shadows, each rustle of leaves magnified in the stillness. An icy trickle ran down her spine, goosebumps rising painfully on her arms and neck. She took one step forward then froze as a rush of feathers broke the silence. The soft, sinister sound grew louder like the beating wings of some immense, unseen predator.

  Elle’s muscles locked, rigid and unresponsive. She could not move, her limbs heavy as stone, her blood turned cold in her veins. Behind her, the sound grew louder, massive wings displacing the night air as they descended. The ground trembled faintly beneath her bare feet as something impossibly large landed gently, almost gracefully, just behind her.

  She could feel the creature’s presence, towering above her, radiating an aura of immense power. Elle’s body refused to obey, her instincts screaming helplessly as her muscles failed to respond. She trembled as a heavy, warm breath brushed the back of her neck, carrying the scent of burning embers mixed with something strangely sweet.

  A soft, melodic, and profoundly menacing voice slid through the silence. “How curious... a lost princess far from home, so vulnerable, so very alone.”

  Elle’s throat strained painfully as she tried again to speak, but nothing escaped her lips. The voice continued, honeyed with gentle amusement.

  “Fear suits you poorly, child,” it purred, breath brushing against the shell of her ear, sending shivers cascading down her spine. “But tell me, Princess, what would you trade for protection? What would you sacrifice to be safe?”

  Unable to respond, Elle trembled, her heart caught between fear and frustration. She had stumbled into something far more dangerous than she had imagined. This was a cunning creature with unknown intentions, patiently savoring her silence as it awaited her next move.

  “Are you tongue-tied?” said the voice. It laughed, loudly screeching near her ears, losing that soft and alluring quality. “Hahaha! Of course, you are!”

  Elle wanted to wince, her eyes watering before one lone teardrop slid down the side of her face. The princess was unsure if it was sweat or a tear.

  “Listen to me, pretty elf,” the voice dropped to a lower, more alluring octave once more. “I’ll make a deal with you, for you are of womankind. Do you understand? I’ll let you use your voice for one purpose: answering to me. What do you say?”

  Suddenly, Elle could move, her body slumping forward, stumbling a bit as her muscles strained. She quickly whipped around, and just as she was about to say something, the words died in her mouth before they could even escape. She came face-to-face with an extraordinary visage, feathers delicately framing a beautiful yet terrifying face. Soft feathers cascaded around its forehead, cheekbones, and jawline. Elle stared into piercing silver eyes, glowing menacingly in the dark. The monstrous figure before her was hauntingly beautiful, shimmering feathers in hues of blue, purple, and gold adorning its body.

  Elle recognized the creature immediately from her studies—a Harpy. The being before her was captivating yet terrifying with razor-sharp, three-pronged talons for hands and feet. The harpy preened, cocking her head, a chilling smile spreading across her face to reveal rows of deadly sharp teeth. Elle’s terror must have been clear on her face as the harpy moved closer, her voice dropping to a soft, almost tender whisper.

  “Listen closely, little elf. I can see the visage of your desire. I know your deepest wish is to go home.”

  Elle swallowed nervously, finally able to speak, though her voice trembled despite her best efforts. “Who are you? What is your name?” She tried to mask her fear with indignation. “It’s rather uncalled for to surprise someone without introducing yourself.”

  The harpy leaned in even closer, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “The name is Flora, little one.”

  Elle blinked, and suddenly, the world around her shifted. Behind the harpy, a vision unfurled clear as crystal, revealing the familiar white beaches of Elytheris, the bustling marketplace filled with smiling faces, and her own chambers where sunlight streamed gently through silken curtains. The Great Tree of Life stood towering and ancient, sheltering the spirits of her father, mother, and ancestors beneath its verdant canopy. Her brother appeared among the visions, his gentle eyes filled with warmth and kindness, extending his hand toward her.

  “Come home, Elle,” Eren said, his voice soft and inviting. “Come home.”

  “Yes,” Elle whispered, tears breaking free and tracing warm paths down her cheeks. Her voice cracked, laden with longing. “Yes.”

  The harpy leaned in, a satisfied smile curving her terrifying yet alluring lips. Her voice dropped to a hushed whisper, feather-soft but edged with menace. “You can return home, little elf. You only need to retrieve that sword from the mutt you’re traveling with. Do you think you can manage that simple task?”

  Elle watched as her brother’s apparition stepped closer, his expression tender yet tinged with sadness. “Elle, we miss you terribly. Do you miss us too?”

  “Yes,” Elle choked out again, her heart aching fiercely.

  “Good answer,” the harpy purred, drawing back gracefully. “Our pact is sealed. And as a token of my goodwill…”

  A sudden, fierce gust of wind surged, knocking Elle onto her back and scattering her damp clothes from her grasp. The heavy darkness dissipated as swiftly as it had arrived, clouds scattering to unveil the moonlit sky above. Elle blinked rapidly, her pulse still hammering wildly in her chest as her mind reeled. She sat up slowly, noticing her clothes were completely dry, free of dirt and moisture.

  Still somewhat dazed, Elle gathered her clothing, quickly pulling on her tunic and pants over her dried undergarments. As she adjusted her boots, her eyes caught sight of something shimmering gently down from the heavens. Beautiful feathers of rich blues, purples, and golden hues drifted gracefully through the moonlight, landing softly around her. Elle carefully picked up one of the feathers, examining it with quiet curiosity and unease.

  She rose to her feet, her attention shifting toward the campsite ahead. Ashra was there, tending quietly to the fire, the scent of cooking food wafting toward her on the cool night air. Without fully understanding the sudden urgency, Elle took a tentative step forward, then another, each step quickly turning into a run. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears as she raced toward the warmth of the campfire, drawn irresistibly to the mysterious half-elf whose presence now was crucial to her fate.

  Elle approached the campfire breathlessly, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Ashra looked up from tending the flames, his expression calm yet cautious.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked evenly, though his jade-green eyes held an edge of suspicion.

  Elle hesitated, an unfamiliar warmth compelling her to soften her approach. Though anxiety still tightened her throat, she managed a small, genuine smile. “I—I’m sorry,” she said softly.

  Ashra’s brows knitted together, suspicion deepening as he rose slowly to his feet. He assessed her carefully, his gaze shifting subtly around their surroundings, alert and wary.

  Elle shifted nervously, feeling as if she were under interrogation. She held her breath as he circled her, his movement precise and predatory, his scrutiny unyielding. Finally, he paused, turning abruptly to face her.

  “No offense taken,” Ashra spoke at last, his voice softening marginally. “I understand your anger. If I were in your place, forced to travel alongside someone who attempted to rob my homeland, I would feel the same.” His gaze sharpened suddenly, “I thought you went for a wash?”

  Elle glanced down at her clothing, momentarily confused. “Yes, I did wash myself.”

  Without warning, the man stepped closer, crossing the unspoken boundary she had set between them. Elle tensed, muscles coiling instinctively, fighting the impulse to retreat or lash out. Ashra leaned in, inhaling gently as if testing the air around her, before tilting his head to meet her startled gaze from below.

  “Your clothes,” he murmured suspiciously, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “They’re completely dry. I thought you were washing them.”

  Elle swallowed hard, her heart pounding nervously against her ribs. She quickly composed herself, responding with all the sincerity she could muster. “I was—I did,” she insisted, looking genuinely perplexed. “I’m sure of it. Perhaps it’s the material. Elven silk of this quality does dry quickly, you know.”

  Ashra straightened slowly, seeming to weigh her words carefully. Without another word, his hand darted out to pluck the vibrant feather she had been holding from her fingers. He turned it over curiously, studying its shimmering colors and elegant texture.

  “Where did you find this?” he asked, the suspicion still lingering in his voice.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  “It just floated down from the sky,” Elle replied dismissively, finally tiring of his relentless questioning. She moved to the fire, sitting down gracefully and poking at the glowing embers with a stick. After a pause, she glanced back at him, sincerity softening her expression. “Truly, I’m sorry about my earlier behavior. It was unbecoming of a princess. I hope we might start anew.”

  He watched her quietly for a long moment, firelight casting flickering shadows across the defined edges of his face. Finally, Ashra tilted his head slightly, curiosity and caution swirling in his jade-green eyes.

  “We are on opposite ends,” he reminded her softly. His voice was low, carefully neutral, the words measured. “Did you forget?”

  Elle inhaled slowly, forcing down a surge of frustration that threatened to overwhelm her. She set her jaw, then managed a calm reply. “Of course I haven’t forgotten. But perhaps setting aside our grievances for now would help us both survive.”

  “Grievances?” Ashra echoed with subtle amusement. “You make our differences sound so polite, princess.”

  She bristled slightly at his tone, her fists clenching, but she refused to rise to his bait. With careful dignity, she responded, “You stole something sacred from my homeland. How exactly do you expect me to trust you?”

  He gave her a slow, assessing look, then shook his head gently. “Trust isn’t something I expect from you. But cooperation, perhaps.”

  Elle’s green eyes narrowed, suspicion evident. Still, she knew he was right. Without some basic understanding, survival would be far more difficult. She hesitated only a moment before pressing on. “Then tell me, Ashra. Who do you work for, and why did you target Elytheris and the Orb? Understanding your motives could help us survive together.”

  His gaze was unreadable at first, and then a hint of amusement flickered in his eyes. “Even if you knew, would that change anything between us? You yourself labeled me a criminal.”

  Elle lifted her chin slightly, maintaining a calm resolve. “Labels matter little when lives are at stake.”

  His eyes lingered on her thoughtfully, weighing the sincerity behind her words. After a brief silence, he nodded slightly, seeming to accept her logic, at least for now. Without further comment, Ashra rose smoothly, signaling the end of their discussion. He tossed her one of the banana-leaf parcels containing dried fish. She caught it reflexively, surprised by the gesture.

  “Eat,” he instructed, turning away from her. “Tomorrow will be harder.”

  Elle stared down at the parcel in her hands, feeling uncertain yet oddly relieved. Her stomach tightened from hunger, frustration, and reluctant gratitude. Slowly, she settled by the fire, watching Ashra carefully as he retreated a short distance to sit quietly, maintaining a silent watch over the dark surroundings. Elle held tightly to the dried fish. For now, she would keep her guard raised but also take care not to push him away completely.

  “You are very unaware of the world, princess,” said Ashra, taking another slow, deliberate bite of dried fish. The firelight caught the edges of his face, sharpening his features and casting shadows that emphasized every word he spoke. “The world doesn’t run on logic. If it did, it would be a far kinder, gentler place. Certainly, far less chaotic.”

  Elle stared at him coolly, maintaining her composed mask despite the anger flaring inside her chest. “And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?”

  “Have you ever wondered why Elytheris chose to isolate itself from the rest of the world?” he asked evenly, jade eyes pinning her with a penetrating stare.

  She scoffed softly, folding her arms defensively as she replied, “That’s easy. Elytheris is a nation of peace, and the rest of the world is constantly at odds. Conflict, greed, ambition. All products of short-lived beings. You forget, we elves have long memories; we know better than to repeat such mistakes.”

  Ashra’s lips slowly curled upward. Not into a warm or pleasant smile, but into something sharp and dangerous. A predator’s grin stretched across his otherwise gentle features, transforming them into something colder, harsher, infinitely more threatening.

  “Once again, your arrogance blinds you,” Ashra murmured, voice deceptively soft. “You speak as if your kind has never committed crimes. Elytheris has undertaken crusades under the pretense of spreading peace and knowledge. Yet those noble missions you speak of were nothing more than masked conquests. You claim you know better, but all you do is covet, conquer, and retreat to your isolated sanctuary to wait until boredom drives you out again.”

  Elle’s eyes widened at his audacity, her brows knitting tightly together in fierce indignation. She shot up from her seat beside the fire, hands balled into fists at her sides. The flames crackled, reflecting in the depths of her furious emerald gaze.

  “Say that again?” she hissed sharply. “Covet? What could we possibly covet when Elytheris has everything? We isolated ourselves because we were tired of the outside world. Of people like you refusing to learn from their mistakes. Crusades? Conquests? They were peaceful missions to educate those incapable of finding peace themselves!” Her voice trembled with outrage. “You wouldn’t understand. You’ve barely lived a fraction of my lifetime. You’re what—fifty years old at most? A mere child, a brat who thinks he understands the world when he knows nothing!”

  Silence fell sharply between them, punctuated only by the soft snap of the firewood. Ashra’s expression did not falter; the dangerous smile faded slowly, leaving behind a cold, unflinching seriousness. His jade eyes glittered, almost enthralling in their intensity as they fixed her in place.

  “You know nothing about me, princess,” he said quietly, his voice as cold as the night air surrounding them. “But keep speaking your ignorance, it suits you.”

  Ashra glanced at her amusedly, a quiet laugh escaping him as he shook his head softly. The sound irritated Elle; it reminded her of someone gently mocking a child who couldn’t yet understand the truths adults spoke.

  He met her narrowed eyes with an almost infuriating calmness. “I wish I were that young again,” he said lightly, his lips curling upward slightly. “Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, I take after my mother.”

  “How old are you?” Elle demanded, her tone sharp as though commanding an answer from a subject rather than asking a question of an equal.

  He chuckled again, a genuine, rich laugh that made his shoulders shake lightly. “Far older than you imagine, princess.”

  Elle scowled, arms tightening over her chest defensively. “You can’t be more than eighty years.”

  At that, Ashra’s laughter deepened, echoing through the stillness of the night air. His jade eyes glittered with amusement, the firelight dancing playfully in their depths.

  Elle flushed, warmth rushing to her cheeks. She hated how he laughed at her so effortlessly, hated how childish it made her feel. Her voice rose sharply, snapping like a whip, “Hurry up with it, criminal.”

  The laughter died softly into silence. His expression returned to that guarded neutrality, but a faint sparkle lingered in his eyes. “I am two hundred and twenty-five years old,” he admitted easily, tilting his head with a slight smile. His gaze fixed on her, calm and steady. “My memory is just as long as yours.”

  Elle drew in a breath sharply, brows knitting together. “How is that possible?” she challenged, disbelief plain in her voice. Her emerald eyes swept over his features again, scrutinizing every detail for any trace of falsehood. “I’m barely older than you, and you’re half-human, aren’t you?”

  Ashra’s eyes softened just a fraction, his smile becoming gentler, almost indulgent, as though he were explaining a simple truth to a child. “As I said, I take after my mother.” He reached casually for the banana leaf wrapper that had held his dried fish, casting it into the fire, where it curled and hissed in the flames. His voice softened, a distant fondness in the tone. “From appearance to her prominent bloodline.”

  His eyes became distant, almost wistful at first, then hardened sharply, filled with a quiet, smoldering anger. Turning his piercing green gaze onto the princess, Ashra spoke quietly, each word carefully controlled yet edged with bitterness.

  “My father’s name was Ertugrul Ashra, a half-elf from the forests bordering Helmold.”

  Elle inhaled softly, the name stirring distant memories. She knew of the Vihaan Elves. Those who had once been Elytherian scouts sent to Helmold many generations past. Over thousands of years, they’d evolved into their own distinct people, a branch both familiar and distant. She kept quiet, sensing the severity behind his words.

  “I didn’t know my father for very long,” he admitted softly, voice devoid of any warmth. “He was killed when I was ten.”

  “I’m sorry—”

  “An apology won’t bring back the dead,” Ashra interrupted abruptly, though without malice. He stared into the fire as though the flames held answers he couldn’t find elsewhere. “He was caught up in the raids near Gilbert.”

  Elle’s heart dropped as the realization took shape in her mind. Gilbert. The name echoed through her memories, sharp and clear. She knew exactly what had occurred there two hundred and fifteen years ago. The Thornbound Knights dispatched by Elytheris had led a violent expedition to reclaim an ancient relic once lost when Elytheris still opened its borders.

  Guilt tightened her throat, prompting her to speak again, softer this time, “I’m sorry—”

  But Ashra’s voice cut her off once more, quiet and firm. “Apologies aren’t needed. You didn’t kill him.”

  Elle’s mouth closed slowly, understanding now that nothing she could say would change what had happened, nor soften the grief or the lingering resentment in his gaze. Silence stretched between them, heavy with history and sorrow.

  Ashra shifted, looking back up at her, the faintest flicker of a knowing smile appearing at the corner of his lips. “You’ll feel differently when you know who my mother is.”

  Elle hesitated. He was baiting her, and she refused to take it. She wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. Yet, the silence dragged on until he finally broke it himself.

  His voice was gently sweet, edged with subtle mockery. “Not going to humor me?”

  She pressed her lips together, irritation mingling with curiosity. But if this was what it took to build trust, to find some way to get closer, then she would swallow her pride. Quietly, the princess gave in. “Who is your mother?”

  His eyes brightened, and his jade depths sparkled vividly in the firelight, reflecting embers of excitement. He smiled, almost too cheerfully. “My name is Mekaisto Ashra Fenrisal.”

  The revelation sent a cold jolt through her, freezing her breath in her throat. She stared at him, unable to speak, disbelief and dread flooding her chest.

  Ashra held her gaze, clearly enjoying the stunned silence before continuing softly and firmly, “I am the son of Councilwoman Tajra Fenrisal of the Shadowpeaks of Zelophehad, elected leader of the Matilde Federation.”

  Tajra the Cruel.

  The Dark Mother of Sand.

  Chairwoman of Chaos.

  Elle could only stare, shock numbing her, as the weight of his lineage settled over her like a suffocating shadow.

  Ashra studied her closely, watching a storm brewing behind Elle’s emerald eyes. Shock, disbelief, and anger all swirled chaotically beneath the careful mask of composure she struggled to maintain. Her delicate hands flexed involuntarily, her very bones rebelled against the harsh truths he’d so casually laid bare.

  Pieces fell rapidly into place, and Elle felt suddenly sickened as she understood how the impossible had become reality. It was no longer a mystery how these intruders had navigated through Elytheris’s enchanted Winding Waves, nor how they’d so effortlessly slipped through centuries-old magical protections. Only someone intimately familiar with their defenses could orchestrate such a feat. Someone whose blood was bound to darkness.

  Her eyes sharpened.

  Someone like Mekaisto Ashra Fenrisal.

  Memories stirred in the back of Elle’s mind, histories she had learned as a child in gilded classrooms, stories recited by tutors with pale faces and hushed voices. Tajra the Cruel. Her name was spoken as though merely uttering it could summon shadows. The Dark Mother of Sand whose ambition had bathed entire lands in blood and despair. The Chairwoman of Chaos, whose kin had once infiltrated the royal city with knives hidden beneath innocent smiles.

  Her stomach twisted, and a chill deeper than the night air swept over her skin, sinking into her bones until even the fire’s warmth felt distant and unreachable. Elle’s chest tightened painfully, her heartbeat echoing loud in her ears as she lifted her gaze once more to meet Ashra’s unyielding jade eyes.

  “What a small world,” Elle whispered bitterly, her voice trembling ever so slightly despite her desperate attempt to conceal it.

  His gentle smile slowly faded, replaced by a colder, darker expression as the light from the fire danced across his features. The shadows around them seemed to deepen, swallowing any lingering warmth. When Ashra finally spoke, his voice was calm and steady; carefully controlled, revealing nothing.

  “It is indeed,” Ashra answered softly, almost thoughtfully. His gaze drifted to the fire, and his profile illuminated in a flickering silhouette against the darkness. For a moment, Elle saw something else in him—something uncertain and pained, hidden just beneath his careful facade. Then it was gone, replaced once more by the unreadable mask he wore so well.

  Silence settled heavily between them once again, broken only by the crackling flames. Each pop and snap of the burning wood echoed loudly.