Return to Jorgaldur

There was silence. Everyone knew of the search and chase of those living beings with purple skin, and their importance to Father. In fact, the death of several shadows was less important than the failure of the mission.

They knew of the presence of at least one fairy in the place, although they guessed that it wasn’t only one that had eliminated six of their kin. What was worrying them the most was how their enemies had gotten there, how they had found it out, got through the miasma, and appeared with forces strong enough to face the shadows.

Those shadows feared they were no longer safe in the miasma. They feared that the fairies might have found a way to penetrate their defenses and attack them. They feared that their enemies could predict their movements.

The generals couldn’t know that it had been a coincidence, or that there had only been a fairy. Although, if they knew about it, if they knew about Goldmi’s existence, perhaps they would have been even more scared. Someone capable of eliminating them at range would have been terrifying.

“Maybe, we should step back and watch,” one of the shadows suggested.

Little by little, they all nodded. Not out of prudence. Not by strategy. Simply, out of fear.

“Dammit! How can this be possible!?”

A figure of a dark color, almost black with a slight touch of purple, shouted in anger. The floor was covered with papers, books, pieces of glass and pottery, a couple of magipens, one of them broken, ink, blood, and other objects that had been thrown in a moment of fury.

One of the magipens was the one that he had been holding upon hearing the news. It had been split in two and thrown to the ground. It is an object between a fountain pen and a ballpoint pen, which is filled with an inkwell like the first, but is used to write like the second. The ink forms a solid tip thanks to some precise incantations made with small runes.

After that, he had thrown everything that was on the table in a rage, and even a nearby vase hadn’t escaped its cruel fate.

A vampire, who had originally been human and was paler than normal, was looking at his boss. He was fearful that his boss might vent on him, or that he might be accidentally hit by one of the thrown objects.

In fact, the soil that was falling off the wall, less than a meter from his head, was the proof of the impact of a flowerpot just seconds ago.

He was cursing having lost the draw. None of them had wanted to be the one to break the news, as they knew it wouldn’t exactly sit well with his boss. So, they had raffled it. This was certainly not his lucky day.

“Boom!”

A half-empty bottle struck not far away. One of the crystals went flying at him and cut his cheek. He didn’t dare to complain. In fact, if that was all he was going to suffer, he would be lucky.

“All they had to do was capture them! At least, prevent them from fleeing! Not even that have been able to do those inept spirits!! Is that what I gave them power for!? Not only have they gone years without catching them, but, in the end, they’ve left them escape! Damn stupid!”

“Boom!”

Krusledón left the checkpoint angry. He had used his position as prince of Engenak to pressure the commanding officer, but he had gotten no information about the elf, or the drelf who was accompanying her. He had claimed to know nothing, but the prince knew that he was lying. Someone adept at court intrigues like him couldn’t be fooled by a simple village soldier. Although that, far from discouraging him, encouraged him even more.

It had taken him several days to recover from the encounter with the elf, from his failure, from the fear he had suffered for the first time in his life, from the humiliation that it had represented for him, a true member of royalty. Instead of intimidating him, however, it had turned into a sick obsession, to the concern of his guardians.

So, he had finally decided to move on to the next fortress. He was ready to find her and make her his, whether the easy way or the hard way.

What he didn’t know was that his actions weren’t going unnoticed. His guardians not only had the mission to protect him physically, but to watch over him, so several reports had been sent to the kingdom.

And the higher-ups in the army were also beginning to be concerned. So, not only were he under surveillance, but informal talks were taking place with Engenak. They wanted to avoid a diplomatic problem with an allied kingdom, and protect who could change the course of the war. However, if they had to choose, the latter was much more important.

The dryad lovingly stroked the twins’ hair, while they were lying on her legs and sleeping peacefully. She never tired of watching the sweet and placid faces of her foster children while they slept.

She was still humming the lullaby she had sung earlier, so getting them to relax and sleep after a tiring day.

They wanted to follow in the footsteps of their father, who was no longer in that world. No one knew if he would return. They wanted to be strong to defend his legacy, to be with him when he returned, though only the two of them were convinced it would happen.

The dryad looked far away, while feeling through the plants of the world, towards an elf who was next to none other than one of her nieces.

“She has also returned. Maybe he… Maybe fate…”

She wanted to believe, but she didn’t dare. Although she couldn’t control her dreams, in which his face appeared again and again, his smile, his contagious laugh.

Yet, she knew that dreams themselves are dreams, as he himself had once mentioned, by quoting a poet from his world. Yet, she couldn’t stop thinking about him, wondering if he would return, if he would be the same, if he would remember her, if he would love her like she loved him.

She sighed. There was nothing she could do about an uncertain future. So, she lowered her head and focused her attention on what was there, on the soft breathing of the young Hnefas.