Leya’s story was undeniably tragic. Losing her sister—someone she held as dearly as family—was a sorrowful fate. Yet, I kept my emotions concealed; showing pity would only worsen her anguish. Coming from a dragon, a creature she despised most, it would likely provoke her further. Instead, I offered silence—the only form of comfort I could give. We listened intently until she finished speaking.

  “That’s all I can remember,” she said, her voice quivering as if on the verge of tears, though she held them back.

  “You don’t recall how you ended up in the ants’ ir?” I asked.

  “Yes, If we overuse our magic, our bodies shut down, cutting off all our senses, since magic is also the source of our life,” she expined obediently.

  “She was probably caught in the tornado, then swept away and dragged off by a nearby ant, my lord,” Faul suggested.

  “That’s possible,” I agreed. There wasn’t any other pusible expnation.

  “Now that I’ve told you everything, will you let me go?” she demanded.

  “I will… if you promise not to act recklessly,” I warned.

  “I won’t. Even if I did, you’d just burn them all without effort anyway,” she muttered.

  “Faul,” I called.

  “Yes, my lord,” he responded, already understanding my unspoken command and moving to carry it out.

  He is a capable servant. Perhaps I should make him my servant for life

  As he approached the tree nymph, I cast my gaze upon him. Sensing my stare, he flinched, sweat forming on his forehead as though a foreboding presence loomed over him. Yet, he did not hesitate. Without turning back, he untied the nymph and retrieved his rope.

  As soon as she was freed, she turned to leave my dwelling, but I stopped her.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” I asked.

  “Home,” she replied curtly, irritation cing her tone at being interrupted.

  “You can’t leave,” I stated coldly.

  “What?!” She spun around, her eyes widening at my command.

  “I said, you can’t leave,” I repeated firmly.

  Her gaze hardened with hostility. “And what exactly do you mean by that?”

  “You’re still not in proper condition,” I asserted.

  “I know my own body better than you. I’m perfectly fine,” she insisted—a btant lie.

  “No, your body may look fine, but I can tell it isn’t. Your magic hasn’t fully recovered yet,” I countered, seeing through her deception.

  After being dehydrated in the ants’ ir for days, her body had reached a critical state. Though she appeared unharmed on the surface, I knew her internal condition was far from stable.

  “For now, you should rest and allow your body to heal completely before leaving,” I said.

  “And why should I listen to you?” she protested.

  “It’s not an order or a command, Leya,” I replied coolly.

  “Tch… Fine,” she grumbled, reluctantly complying.

  Had she insisted on leaving, I would have had no choice but to let her go. However, doing so would have meant sending her to her death, as the dangers outside were far beyond her weakened state. I was fully aware of her condition—that was why I stopped her before anything could happen.

  Though my concern for her well-being was genuine, I couldn’t afford to show it. Any sign of care would only make her suspicious of me. Instead, I resorted to veiled threats, the only way to ensure she stayed. She remained a crucial bargaining piece, preventing me from entering a hostile retionship with the guardian she revered. Moreover, there was the risk that she would report me unfavorably, further damaging my already precarious reputation. I couldn’t allow that.

  She moved away from us and y down to rest. Within moments, she had fallen into a deep sleep, her body utterly exhausted both mentally and physically. Once I was certain she was soundly asleep, I turned to Faul.

  “Faul, keep an eye on her. Make sure she doesn’t leave without my knowledge,” I ordered.

  “…Understood,” he responded after a brief hesitation, reluctantly accepting the command.

  “Get some rest as well. Your body isn’t in the best condition, just like hers,” I added.

  “Thank you, my lord,” he said with gratitude.

  Faul’s condition had improved compared to before. His once thin and frail frame had begun to fill out slightly after having proper meals.

  I observed them both, drifting off almost instantly the moment they closed their eyes—a clear sign of their exhaustion. I wasn’t exempt from this either. My body was still in the process of healing. With that thought, I allowed myself to rest, and soon, we all surrendered to deep slumber.

  ??

  In the vilge of the forest elves, nestled between the vast great forest and the barren nds, three elders sat around a table, deep in contemption over the troubling events unfolding in the forest.

  “It has been twenty days since we sent our warriors to investigate the disturbances in the forest, yet not a single one has returned,” elder jolen started gravely.

  “We should send a search party to find them, just as I proposed in our st meeting!” another elder, visibly frustrated, insisted.

  “No! It’s too dangerous. We still don’t know what is happening within the great forest,” a third elder objected.

  “And how do you know it’s dangerous? Are you suggesting we abandon the warriors we sent, Elder Moss?” the frustrated elder retorted angrily.

  “We have no other choice,” Elder Moss responded firmly. “Their failure to return means they likely encountered something unknown within the forest. Sending another unit blindly would be no different from throwing more warriors into an unseen peril.”

  “In our st meeting, you told us to trust our warriors and wait for their return. Now, after twenty days without a sign of them, you refuse to send a rescue party? Do you not see that they are in danger?” the angered elder shouted.

  “Elder Nard, I understand your emotions,” Elder Moss said, his voice steady. “But you are using the excuse of a rescue mission to save your son, who was among those sent. If we dispatch another unit and they, too, fail to return, will you bear the responsibility?”

  “Ghk…” Elder Nard gritted his teeth before responding, his voice ced with sorrow. “I would give up my title as an elder if it meant saving my son. I will take full responsibility—just send another unit to find him.” His words carried the weight of a desperate father, his eyes brimming with tears for his only child, missing for days.

  “Remember, Elder Nard,” Elder Moss said solemnly, “you are not the only one grieving. The warriors we sent also have families—wives, children, parents—who anxiously await their return.”

  Elder Moss was just as heartbroken. Those warriors were the pride of their vilge, nurtured and trained to protect their people. Their prolonged absence signaled a greater, unknown threat lurking within the great forest. Whether they had encountered it or not remained uncertain, but one fact was clear—the forest had become too dangerous to enter.

  Elder Nard slumped over the table, his head hanging low as he wept for his missing son. Deep down, he understood the grim reality. The forest, once their source of food and livelihood, had become a pce of peril. Though he wanted nothing more than to bring his son back, he had no choice but to wait and hope for the warriors’ safe return.

  “We will wait another ten days. If they still haven’t returned, we will send another group of warriors with the sole purpose of rescuing them. However, if the rescue proves impossible, they are to withdraw immediately—our warriors’ survival takes priority. Is this acceptable, Elder Moss? Elder Nard?” Elder Jolen proposed.

  “I have no objections,” Elder Moss agreed.

  “Thank you, Elder Jolen” Elder Nard said softly, his voice heavy with sorrow.

  Both elders accepted Jolen’s proposal without hesitation. As the eldest among them and the longest-serving member of the council, he commanded their respect. Moreover, neither of them had a better alternative—they feared that suggesting a different course of action might mean shouldering the responsibility if their pn ended in failure.

  “This meeting is adjourned,” Elder Jolen decred, bringing their discussion to a close.