Every cell in her body was exuding a warning for the Golden Elf to escape from here.
However, Hathaway clenched her teeth and defied the lifeform's instinct to survive, heading towards that deep darkness.
She knew Shiayar was in there.
The Elder of the Sun Elves never said what would become of Shiayar after being taken to the World Tree, perhaps they simply weren't qualified to know the details.
It might even be that during this time, Shiayar had already been killed.
But still, Hathaway came.
Whether it was because of the seed called love that had just begun to sprout in the young girl's heart,
Or because of the remorse that was almost drowning her sea of spirit.
Clearly, Shiayar had nothing to do with the entire Lost Island and the whole Elf Clan.
Yet, due to her capricious request, he entered the Lost Island and was then dragged into the vortex of disaster.
At this moment, the so-called future of the Elf Clan was tossed to the back of Hathaway's mind.
She only knew that she had to come here.
Even if it meant sacrificing the life of the Golden Elf herself.
The entire palace was silent, with only the sound of the Golden Elf's footsteps remaining.
After an indeterminate amount of time, the thin shadow dissipated, revealing layer upon layer of illusory stairs.
And at the end of the stairs, that magnificent black iron-colored seat.
Upon the Iron Throne was an illusory, imposing figure.
Their face bore the ultimate concentrated beauty of the Elven Bloodline, indistinguishable as male or female, and behind them were layers of illusory black wings, resembling the wings of a fallen angel.
On the pale robe were strands of golden thread, engraved with the unique patterns of the ancient Elven Royal Court.
Hathaway had seen the figure on the Iron Throne, from the paintings left in the Royal Court Great Library—
This was the Elf King who should have perished along with the fall of the Royal Court.
No, when thinking back to the words of the Elder of the Sun Elves... the existence before her could be called the Elf King, or alternatively—Sun God, or Creator.
This was a great existence worshiped by all beings during the Glorious Era.
Logically, whether from the identity as king of the Elf Clan, or from that of the creator, Hathaway at this moment should be nothing but respectful to the existence before her.
However, not even the slightest fraction of the Golden Elf girl's gaze lingered on that black iron-colored throne.
Instead, it was fixed on the thin figure beside the Black Iron Throne.
There stood a human boy with black hair and black eyes.
His hands were bound by extraordinary black iron shackles. New ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄhapters are published on NoveI[F]ire.net
Underneath the black tousled hair, those eyes that once mesmerized Hathaway, like a reflection of the Sea of Stars, had never seemed so dim.
At the moment she saw the human boy before her...
The joy in the Golden Elf's heart dispelled all prior unease, remorse, and that fear stemming from spiritual intuition and the instinct to live.
Shiayar was still alive.
Then everything could still be salvaged.
As long as she could defeat the guy who appeared to be the remnant soul of the Sun God and rescue Shiayar...
The boy's voice, laced with a tinge of sigh, interrupted the Golden Elf's thoughts.
"You shouldn't have come here."
Hathaway raised her head in confusion and met Shiayar's gaze.
Within those once Sea of Stars-like deep black eyes, colors of complexity now mingled.
He looked at the Golden Elf before him with tranquility, his pupils holding sorrow and regret... yet also the same as always, the infatuation and gentleness that enchanted the Golden Elf.
That barely detectable trace of resolve.