The forest was still drenched in the fading gloom of night when Jorghan finally drifted into an uneasy sleep. Dreams clawed at him—shards of the goddess’s warning, the merging of worlds, and the faces of gods unseen.
He tossed against the roots until exhaustion forced his eyes shut.
He just sat there until late at night, thinking too deeply, and slowly fell asleep there itself.
When the first hints of dawn crept through the canopy, he was pulled from his slumber by the sounds of metals clashing, the clatter of boots, and the guttural roar of machinery.
He rubbed his eyes, sluggish at first, but the noise quickly sharpened into chaos.
"What in the hell..." Jorghan muttered as he staggered to his feet. His body ached from sleeping on the hard ground, but curiosity drove him forward.
He followed the sounds toward the camp.
What he saw was as confusing as it was bewildering.
Soldiers rushed about, their uniforms catching the morning light, rifles glinting as they moved in formation. The ships, usually still at this hour, were now rumbling to life, their hulls glowing with energy as if ready to take flight.
At the center of the activity stood Yvonne. She caught sight of him and—strangely—smiled, as though greeting an old friend.
"You’re here," she said warmly.
"I thought perhaps you’d slipped away."
Confused, Jorghan frowned and stepped closer. "What’s happening here?"
Her smile remained, but her eyes flickered with something darker.
Before he could press further, his gaze shifted to the ground—and froze.
There, just behind Yvonne, lay Nina. Her body sprawled unnaturally across the dirt, her eyes lifeless, skin already paling.
Jorghan’s heart slammed in his chest. His voice cracked. "What... what happened to her?"
"Oh, her?" Yvonne’s tone was casual, almost dismissive.
"She refused my order. I had to kill her."
Yvonne had ordered to find Jorghan and kill him before they left for the ride on the isles, but Nina, who thought Jorghan was just a little boy, said she couldn’t do it. She was a kind young woman, and spending time with Jorghan made her unable to do it.
The words hit Jorghan like a hammer. His face went white, his jaw trembling as his vision swam. "Why..." His voice quivered.
"Why would you do that? She was nothing but kind. She never—"
Yvonne��s lips curled into a cold smirk. "Because I don’t need her anymore. And I don’t need your agreement anymore either. Reinforcements are coming. With them, we’ll deal with your kind once and for all."
"My lord, he said that we don’t need to consider your elves as dangerous anymore."
"It’s a shame, Jorghan, that you ended up living with them. My lord dislikes anything that belongs to those fucking mutt elves."
Realization slammed into him—this was no accident, no madness.
She had planned this. She had been playing him all along.
"You..." His voice deepened, eyes widening, and aura trembling. "You said that you wanted a meeting, didn’t you?"
"Well, not anymore. I planned to do so, but we had a change of tactics after last night."
Jorghan frowned, realizing that last night’s visitor was the reason for their sudden change.
Yvonne’s expression hardened.
She lifted her hand and barked an order: "Kill the boy."
The world seemed to stop for a heartbeat.
Soldiers moved at once, their long rifles rising as one, their cold barrels aimed straight at his chest.
Jorghan’s rage boiled over. His aura flared like a volcano bursting from slumber, the very air trembling as mana surged out of him.
The ground cracked beneath his feet, spiderwebs of fissures racing outward. The rifles shook in the soldiers’ hands. Some faltered, others cursed, but Yvonne stood firm, her eyes narrowed with anticipation.
"Fire!"
But before they could pull the triggers, Jorghan slammed his foot into the ground.
The ground split violently, a shockwave exploding outward like a thunderclap. Soldiers screamed as they were thrown back, rifles scattering like toys. Dust and dirt rose into the air, turning the morning into a storm of chaos.
Jorghan’s hand shot to his lips as he whistled, sharp and commanding.
From the skies above came the beating of wings, loud as war drums.
A shadow swooped down—the Chycor, his faithful beast, its feathers gleaming with silver sheen.
It landed before him with a screech, wings scattering the haze of dust. Jorghan leapt onto its back in one swift motion.
His eyes burned as he cast one last glare at Yvonne.
"Remember this," he growled, his voice carrying across the camp.
"You’ll regret touching her."
The Chycor rose with a mighty sweep of its wings, carrying him into the skies, leaving the chaos below.
Yvonne’s soldiers scrambled to regroup, coughing in the dust, rifles clattering uselessly.
Vice Lord Radulff approached from the shadows, his laughter thick with mockery.
"Done in by a little boy... poor, poor Yvonne."
Her glare could have cut steel.
"Shut up, Radulff."
She turned away sharply, brushing the dirt from her clothes.
"The Lord will be here soon. We don’t have time to brood over this."
Radulff smirked, his eyes flicking skyward where the boy vanished into the clouds. "Perhaps not," he said softly.
"But I think the boy has only just begun."