The doors opened with a slow creak of age-old hinges, and Veyra stepped into the room. She was tall for her age—eighteen, perhaps nineteen—with long midnight-brown hair that shimmered faintly with an undertone of red. Her eyes, once dull with sickness, now glimmered faintly. The traces of corruption that once plagued her body had vanished thanks to Asher's healing, but her posture still held the hesitation of someone long treated like a fragile vase.
She wore a long, plum-colored robe patterned with branches and veins—symbolic of her newly awakened skill: Bloodroot of Crimson Bloom. A hybrid of Wood and Blood elements, rare and deeply incompatible with the Varnius family's long-standing legacy of pure Blood Laws.
As she stood before them, clearly uncertain, Asher smiled and stepped forward.
"Veyra," he said, voice smooth and warm, "do you know the story of a caged songbird?"
She blinked, confused. "No…"
"There once was a bird, born in a golden cage. She was fed the best seeds, given the finest care. But she could never sing," Asher said, eyes glinting faintly. "Not because her voice was broken… but because no song worth singing can come from behind bars."
Veyra stared at him, breath shallow.
He turned to Lord Varnius now. "Your daughter is gifted—but your legacy was never meant for her. The power you once dreamed she'd inherit… it would only chain her. She needs something else. Something wilder. Something free."
Varnius narrowed his eyes. "And you intend to give her this… freedom?"
"I intend," Asher said clearly, "to make her my companion. Not a disciple. Not a follower. A companion. She will walk at her own pace—but by my side. No chains. No cage."
Varnius was silent for a long moment. Then he asked, "And what does my daughter gain from this arrangement?"
Asher gave a half-shrug. "That depends entirely on her. Her strength. Her will. Her determination. I don't raise weak—I raise strong ones. If she is worthy, the world will bend for her."
Veyra's eyes widened slightly, lips parting, but she said nothing yet.
One of the elders at the back coughed quietly. "Bold words," he muttered.
Lord Varnius remained still for several more breaths, gaze lingering on his daughter. There was no affection in his eyes—but neither was there cruelty. Only calculation. The weighing of value.
The word hit the room like a stone in still water.
"But I have one condition," he continued, eyes sharpening. "Once per week, I will be allowed to speak with her. Alone. Not to control her. Not to influence her path. But to ensure she is not being… used."
Asher didn't hesitate. "Accepted."
Varnius gave a slow nod. "Then she is yours to guide. But be warned—if she breaks, the blame is yours."
"I don't break things," Asher said. "I forge them."
He stepped to Veyra, and for the first time, met her eyes directly.
"You ready to fly?" he asked.
She stared at him for a long moment, her voice trembling just slightly.
"I… I don't know what do you mean," she whispered.
"I am useless now, even my new skill I can't undestand what it does, the only thing it do is create pretty and somewhat charming red flowers"
Asher extended his hand.
"Then I'll teach you."
Then she placed her hand in his.
Asher gave her a slight nod before turning back to face Lord Varnius. His tone shifted, returning to calm, measured authority.
"I still want the Law Crystals," Asher said. "Since I've now taken responsibility for her, and she is no longer part of the Varnis line, I suppose our earlier arrangement will need another… trade."
He extended his hand, and with a flick of his fingers, a swirling, misty orb manifested above his palm. It pulsed softly with ethereal light—a glowing core that radiated ancient power.
"This is a Soul Essence Core," Asher explained. "It contains the lingering imprint of a powerful cultiv....Evolver If refined properly, the one who absorbs it can inherit fragments of their memories, techniques… even a part of their innate skill."
He placed the orb carefully on the stone table before them. The other elders stirred at once, eyes drawn to the artifact like moths to flame.
Varnis stepped forward, cautious but intrigued. "Then… I will use this," he said.
One of the other elders stood beside him, his voice wary. "Soul Essence Cores… are rare beyond reason. Are you certain it's safe?"
Lord Varnis narrowed his eyes, then gestured toward the orb. "Show me how it's done."
Asher obliged, reaching out and activating the orb with a subtle flick of his will. It shimmered, revealing a glimpse of the cultivator's outline within—an old master wrapped in flowing crimson robes, surrounded by thorns of blood and vines of jade.
Varnius's eyes widened slightly. "Blood and Wood… just like her."
He sat down cross-legged before it and began the absorption process under Asher's guidance. The orb dimmed gradually, and by the time it had turned to dull crystal, Lord Varnius exhaled sharply—eyes gleaming with new comprehension.
He stood up slowly, staring at Asher. "Do you have more?"
"I had three," Asher replied. "We used two. The last… is this one you just used. So no—this was my final offer."
Lord Varnis gave a short grunt and walked to a nearby shelf. From it, he retrieved a sealed blackwood box reinforced with spiritual chains. He placed it before Asher and unlatched the cover.
The source of this content is Novel~Fire. (n)et
Inside were hundred crystalline shards, gleaming in deep green and blood-red hues—fifty Corruption Law Crystals and fifty Blood Law Crystals. Their potency was palpable, humming with dormant power.
"As promised," Lord Varnius said.
Asher nodded, closing the box with care before slipping it into his spatial ring.
He turned to Veyra. "If you want to say your goodbyes, you have one hour. We leave after that."
Veyra stood quietly for a moment, processing the weight of what had just occurred.
"I… I understand," she said softly.
With a glance at her father—whose face betrayed no emotion—she turned and exited the hall, following after the man who saved her life and now want her as companion.