The Wandsmith [LitRPG, Isekai, Harem]

Ori sat by the lake's edge, arms propped on his knees, chin tilted towards the silver-stained waters. The lake was so clear he could see pebbles metres beneath the surface, their shapes distorted only slightly by the gentle ripple of a warm breeze. No sun hovered above, yet the world glowed. The sky was a dome of pearl and cyan, soft as candlelight and casting no shadows. Not quite day, not quite night, it stretched endlessly across the horizon as if this world had never learned how to turn.

Ruenne'del lay sprawled beside him, her bare feet dangling over the edge into the water. Her hair, recently washed and unbraided, fanned out in a cascade of vivid, deep pink upon the daylight-warmed stones. She hadn't said much in the past hour, not that she ever did, but her presence was peace, a quiet contrast to the noise that buzzed throughout Ori's Split Mind's.

A week had passed since they had begun the slow arc northward, winding through forest and low, misty valleys. Freya had curled up to rest deep within his soul space, her magic settled into a dormant pulse that throbbed like a heartbeat under his ribs. From time to time, she would stir, emerging to ensure they were not lost and quiz Ori about his learnings, his academic progress, and his thoughts on their plans for unifying Intelligence.

Lysara had gone roaming an hour ago, her field of static and flickering light trailing in her wake. She had taken well to her newfound autonomy, wandering far and wide, curious and ever restless, but always keen to return. Ori did not mind. Walking beside her over the past days, tethered by a literal current of connection, had soothed something raw inside him. With each step, his thoughts had loosened, like tangled threads unravelled from a spool of wool. His death clocks, transcendent quests, worry, strategy and everything else he usually clung to, he allowed them all to drift away, carried off on quiet currents of mana and movement.

It was peaceful here. The kind of peace he had promised himself all the way back during Crucible's second trial, and yet—

He slapped at his neck with a curse. Then another, and another. The swarm of tiny midge flies danced gleefully around his face, heedless of their slain comrades.

"Why me?" he growled.

Ruenne giggled that barely-there ripple of amusement that slipped out when she thought no one was listening. Ori turned to squint at her. "You find this funny?"

"A little." She shrugged, the corners of her mouth tilting upwards.

"They're obsessed," he grumbled, waving a hand ineffectually. "Getting eaten alive. What, do you think I've got sweet blood or something?"

Ruenne rolled onto her side, propped her chin on one hand, and offered a half-lidded glance. "It's a good sign."

"Oh yeah? How's that?"

"Means you're better at masking your presence." She flicked one of the midges from his arm with a finger. "They only bite things they think won't bite back."

Ori blinked. "Huh."

She rolled onto her back again.

"Then why aren't they biting you?"

She shrugged once more as if such questions were beneath her concern. Ori tried to make sense of it, then gave up. She was a fairy, and apparently, more enigmatic than most. Logic bent around her like light through water.

Still, it was nice, sitting here in silence with someone who didn't need to fill it. The lake shimmered, moonless and mirror-still. Somewhere out beyond the misty tree line, Lysara roamed the deep earth and Freya slept beneath his skin.

Ori exhaled. Just for now, just for this breath, he let the world be quiet.

Until he bitch slapped himself taking out another bloodsucker.

"Ori?"

"Mmm?" Ori turned towards Rue as they strolled through the woods. "What is it?"

They were a day away from reaching a friendly orc settlement, likely the largest permanent habitation before the Great North Road of the realms.

"There's something I need to talk to you about."

Ori stopped, a spike of concern rising as he felt her growing apprehension through the bond. They hadn't taken things further than what had happened at the stream back in Ike, but he could feel her desire, coiled like a spring beneath the surface. Every sidelong glance during his long-winded explanations of Nameless's theories, every moment they tried to teach each other spells and techniques. They would brush against one another, glancing touches at first, almost accidental. But by the end of the day, those touches lingered, becoming ever more inappropriate.

Yet something still held them back. Ori sensed there was a final barrier between them, likely rooted in her past, and because of that, he was on high alert.

"I'm listening," he said.

"I have a… friend. We were… are lovers."

Ori's heart sank. She felt it through the bond and Ruenne'del turned pale.

"I'm sorry. I never expected to—"

"What happens now?" Ori asked, his mouth dry, his thoughts spiralling in a numb, echoing loop made worse by the emotional feedback between them. But then something surfaced in his mind. "Wait. You're Leanan Sídhe, right? Weren't you cursed to die before our bond?"

"The Leanan Sídhe bond only forms between man and fairy," she said softly.

Ori remained silent. The thoughts of her lover being a woman doing little to still his roiling thoughts.

Ruenne'del sat down on a low root, her back to a gnarled birch, eyes cast towards the shifting sky.

"We met at court. Kayleigh Winterscorn. Winter-born... Unseelie..." Her voice was quiet, each phrase short, her voice seemingly as dry as his own. "Mother granted her exile. Said it was mercy. Said I could keep her. The Seelie Court's full of cruelties. You know of this, their gifts and games. People passed around like trinkets. I let her stay. Pretended she was mine. A new fascination for the court. A toy ice fairy for the favoured one of the nine."

There was a bitter curl to her mouth. She closed her eyes a moment before continuing.

"She wasn't like the others. A Titan Ranker, an exiled princess, who didn't play their games, she broke them. She knew how to smile without showing her teeth. She made me... feel seen. Like we were partners in a realm where not even siblings could be trusted. She was cruel, vindictive, obsessive, capricious, chaotic, jealous, compassionate, loyal, strong, delicate, fragile. She was frost wrapped in silk. You and her—" she gestured vaguely towards him without looking up "—couldn't be more different. And somehow... I fell in love with you both."

The words sat heavy in the air, a strange admission spoken like fact rather than confession.

"She knew she couldn't break my curse. Said she'd die with me instead." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "And she meant it."

Ori remained silent as he waited for her to express her thoughts as words.

"She will know. She won't even need me to say it, and she will hate you for it." She looked up at last, pink eyes soft, unreadable. "But you asked... what happens now. Well, that is up to you. You're my bond. You hold my soul in your hands. Whether you walk away, end the bond, or... something else. It's yours to decide."

Ori wanted to walk away, furious over a mistake he hadn't even had the chance to make. He sat down, stewing in his thoughts. His anger, once directed at himself, now turned towards the person who had only just decided to reveal her prior entanglements.

She flinched under his glare, prompting Ori to sigh as he tried to make sense of his scattered emotions.

"Tell me everything," he said.

And so she did. She explained how they had met, what they were to one another, and the expectations they had shared. While they had never promised exclusivity, Ruenne'del had stated clearly, on more than one occasion, that she could never form a bond with a man due to the Leanan Sídhe's parasitic, and ultimately fatal, nature.

Though fae culture was often more fluid and fair-weather in its approach to relationships, there had been no one else in the Seelie Court she trusted as deeply. When asked whether she believed she had betrayed her lover's trust, Ruenne'del said it didn't matter. All that did was the fact that Kayleigh would almost certainly believe she had.

"So why did you even kiss me, why did you want the bond knowing this?"

"Because someone I… you needed my help." Ruenne'del said, her voice barely audible.

"Fine. Thank you?" Ori sighed. "So, what now? Leave and go back to her? Or break it off?" Ori asked.

Ruenne'del shook her head.

"Then what? Because I'm not comfortable being with someone who can treat someone else like that."

"As a summon, we are currently in my past. Even if I returned now, it wouldn't change anything. If I sent a message, it wouldn't be this version of me who'd received it."

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Ori sighed. This was hard enough without adding time travel and god-like jilted lovers into the mix.

"So what, we just carry on as we are? A fling that ends when you return to the Seelie?"

"Do you still want me?"

"I—" Ori paused, searching his heart. That trust, that deep sense of loyalty, felt frayed. It wasn't quite a betrayal, not truly, but it changed how he saw her. "I need to think."

"What happened between you two?" Freya asked, buzzing out of Ori's soul space after detecting the shift in mood.

They were walking through the vibrant orc village of Kul'dett. They passed an open market where stalls overflowed with fresh fruit and vegetables Ori had never seen before. Tall, pink or pale blue-skinned orcs hawked their wares with booming voices. Tusked and, on average, a full head taller than Ori's six feet, they were well padded with muscle and fat with boisterous and welcoming personalities to visitors, especially those with coin.

Ori had spoken effortlessly with the locals in their own tongue, though they also understood Vespasian Common just fine. Unlike earlier, however, the smiles, sideways glances, and casual touches between him and Ruenne'del had vanished. In their place lingered a coldness that mirrored Ori's simmering anger.

He shrugged, uncertain whether here and now was the best place to talk about it. But then he sighed, deciding to get it out of the way. Perhaps Freya would have something to say that might help.

Ruenne'del had just stepped out, searching for one of the local communication bridges that could get word to her current self. Ori was alone now, surrounded by the colours, sounds, and smells of a whole new culture, but everything felt dulled as if the world had faded into shades of grey.

"Honestly, I'm not really sure," Ori began. He found a small patch of ground away from the busy thoroughfare, sat down, and began to explain what had happened between him and Ruenne'del.

"She should've told you sooner," she said. "Not because she owed you some dramatic confession, but because you deserved clarity. Still, I think I understand."

Freya now in her pixie form, glanced towards the busy orc market, then back at him.

"Fae don't see loyalty the way you do. Especially not in love. Courtships are often fluid, tangled up in power, curiosity, aesthetics, and influence. A connection can mean everything or nothing, depending on the season. That doesn't make it meaningless to them, it just means it changes. She probably thought it wasn't important, at first. Then it became a little more serious. Then it became a big and heavy thing. And the closer she got to you, the harder it became to say."

Ori looked down. "So what, should I just not think it's a big deal? Just forgive and forget?"

Freya gave him a flat look. "No. If it hurts, it's because you care and that matters. People are complicated. It's easy to love the surface, but relationships live or die when the messy parts come and out when you realise just how complicated their lives have been. The questions, the doubts, their pasts and how it's shaped them. You have to ask yourself if you can still love her knowing all of what she is, has done, could still yet do.

"I warned you before of the choice taken out of your hands, but do you truly regret what was done? You're under no obligation to easily accept anything. But don't let pride or some idea of what love should be make the choice for you. That's not holding fast to your principles, that's just petty vindictiveness dressed up to look noble. And trust me, I know from experience that such actions are the ones you end up regretting the most."

"What troubles you, boy?" asked a pale blue-skinned orc, glancing up as he absently browsed through a rack of sleeveless tunics.

Ori blinked, caught off guard. "Do you have anything enchanted?"

The orc let out a short laugh. "Ha! Outside of the capital? No, boy. You'd be lucky to find anything properly enchanted out here. Closest you'll get is old charms and half-working hats."

He held up a long coat stitched from grey-brown leather, its shoulders padded with a thick, almost iridescent fur.

"Still, I've got quality. Off-season for it, true, but these pelts? Nascent beasts. Tougher than your usual game. These leathers'll outlast anything you'd get from Luneshorne, Dremsway, or even Caer'Hallen. Real durable, holds firm, and keeps you warm when spells don't."

Ori nodded, running a hand over the material. It was warm to the touch, and the fur held an odd shimmer in the twilight light. Not magical, but alive with a strange vitality.

"Something's wrong with those eyes, boy. Had enough to eat? I know a stall that serves the best leg gosh—"

Ori gave a thin smile. "I'm fine, just thinking."

"Too much thinking'll put lines on that smooth face, boy. Now, try this on. No charge if it doesn't fit."

Ori chuckled. The orc handed over the coat and returned to his browsing. Ori slipped it on. It rested comfortably, heavier than expected but soft, and a better fit than the makeshift tunic he had been wearing under his coat.

"Fits like it was made for you," the orc said with a toothy grin.

Ori nodded again. "Thanks."

"You heading north, boy?" the orc asked casually. "Heard the road's crawling with dusk-bent, especially up by Kelwyn Ford. Whole caravans have gone missing."

"Dusk-bent?"

"You middle-landers call em, dem flesh traders."

"Yeah, we do. What have you heard?"

"Nothing much, just that many are moving north for reasons not known to me. Both on and off the Great Road. So take care, you hear?"

Ori's gaze sharpened. "We will."

"Then get yourself something solid and warm. These furs are good value."

"Do you have something like this, but smaller?" Ori asked, gesturing to a cream and silver-furred poncho. He hoped it would match Ruenne'del's bright pink hair, though he very much doubted she would ever wear it. Still, he had enough currency to pay for the man's intel.

"Thank you. And watch your back, boy. Outside this village, they say Twilight is more shades of grey than black and white. You hear?"

Ori nodded, folding away his purchases before heading to the village gates and the start of Twilight's great southern road.

"Hey," Ori said as Ruenne'del returned. The awkwardness between them still lingered, despite his tight smile. Their shared emotions made it harder to brush things off.

"Hi," the pink-haired fairy replied. Her fine lips were tight. Her eyes, just as intense as ever, lingered on his before looking away.

"You ready to go? I know we talked about sticking around and maybe finding an inn here, but honestly, despite how friendly these people are, their buildings are little better than sleeping in the woods."

Ruenne'del nodded.

They made good time leaving the village, following the road which, at this point, was little more than a raised rubble path above the forest floor. Ori had been thinking about what to say, turning over his thoughts, and learning from the mistakes he had made. The bottom line was, the time spent by her side had been some of the best days of his life. Despite the fighting, the danger, and the constant weight of looming challenges, Ruenne'del felt like a partner, someone he could relax around in a way he could not with anyone else, including his other bonded.

Despite the circumstances that had led to their bond, the only thing he would have changed, had he known about her past or current relationship, was for the matter to be resolved one way or another before the bond began.

Now, he was thinking about future bonds, the family he wanted to build, his own bottom lines, and how he would approach things from now on. He would be more direct about determining interest, reminding himself of Harriet's criteria for bonding: immortality, or at least reaching the immortal rank, had to be a shared goal or desire among all future bonded. Matters like children, settling down, and what those concepts even meant for immortals would need to be thought through and decided.

As his thoughts settled, he felt as though a weight was sliding off his shoulders. He turned to Ruenne'del and smiled his first genuine smile in some time. However, at that very moment, Ori sensed a familiar spike of danger through the bond, just as Ruenne'del withdrew the greatsword from her back and swung it in a wide, sweeping arc towards him, forcing him to step back. Prismatic Shields flared to life before conscious thought had even formed, the decision to place it among his limited core spells once again proving its worth.

Ruenne'del's blade cut through empty air, intercepting nothing visible, and then came a rush of displaced wind, a burst of sparks, and a heavy clang. She was hurled into the underbrush like a discarded doll. Twigs snapped in her wake, and somewhere deeper among the trees, her body struck a trunk with a dull, brutal thud. The bond surged with a spike of pain before settling. She was still alive, breathing, but unconscious, her intervention having pushed Ori just far enough out of the path to foil the ambush.

The beast had struck again. No warning, no sound, no shift in the air. Even in its aftermath, Ori spun in every direction, searching for even a trace of its presence.

It was the owl again. The same silent hunter, moving as if bound to laws no other creature obeyed. Its wings created no noise, its feathers cut through the air without resistance, and not a single leaf so much as stirred in its wake. It was the perfect predator, the apex of quiet death.

Ori didn't move towards Ruenne'del, nor did he call out. He dropped into a ready stance, jaw clenched, his thoughts already aligning with his spellwork.

With Seraphine's Beacon summoned to his hand, he cast Death Ward, Beacon of Restoration, and Channel Restoration on the unmoving bundle lying tangled in the brambles. Through the bond, he could feel her condition stabilise, the worst of the concussion and brain bleed halted, but he let her remain unconscious. She had bought him the opportunity to strike back, and he intended to use it well.

The forest stank of damp earth and crushed moss. The owl was still close and still watching.

It had followed him since their first encounter, gliding through the world like a ghost and as Ori's mind whirled, it soon became obvious that this wasn't a chance encounter or predatory instinct. Far from the valley of their first meeting, it was clear that it wasn't defending territory. The creature had chosen him, had marked him not merely as prey but as a vessel for growth, a means of elevation. It believed that by consuming him, it could ascend.

It had made a mistake.

Ori shifted his stance, boots grinding against the grit-packed road as he reached inward.

Mind over Magic and Mind over Motion, surged, adjusting mid-cast, its inner structure adapting on instinct. He fed it counter-concepts, meta-enchantments designed to unravel light distortion, negate illusion, and sharpen physical edges. His thoughts moved with a cold, liquid fury, every process clear and aligned. Vision of the Progenitor ignited, reshaping his perception. The trees around him stretched into a maze of mana, the entire forest revealing a new structure of currents and resonance.

The illusion cracked and peeled away, and there it flew.

Suspended above the treetops, just outside ordinary view, its camouflage now fractured by Ori's enhanced sight. The creature was immense, the size of a school bus, wings spread wide in a curtain of bone-white feathers too pristine to be natural. Its eyes were light-swallowing bowls of pure black. Its beak was an obsidian diamond made even starker by the purity of its downing. The owl's path was a straight line towards him, its speed faster than an arrow.

Six ghostly hands fanned out around him as if he were Shiva, each gripping a blade from his array. The air vibrated with colour as Prismatic Weapon formed around his short swords, the spell enchanted with the essence of sharpness. Blades that had originally been designed to cut through magic shields and tough flesh were now enhanced by laws that could slice through the creature's illusion of safety, rendering its sense of certainty and superiority false.

The owl descended, the distance collapsed, gliding as if gravity itself bent around it. Aura of the Progenitor sparked with flux and Ozone thickened as it cooked the air.

A hundred strides, then sixty, then thirty strides, and then he struck.

The spectral arms lunged in perfect synchrony, blades whipping through the air in arcs of refracted light. One tore through the side of the owl's face, splintering the edge of its beak. Another sliced off a taloned toe, which spun into the underbrush trailing a spray of blood. A third carved along its chest, leaving a jagged, red wound through its snowy feathers.

The owl recoiled, not from pain, but from the shock of its illusion failing and with it, its sense of invincibility.

Light began to gather as it banked away, quickly beyond the treeline, pulling every trace of illumination into itself. Then, in a sudden, blinding flash, its form pulsed and vanished. For a moment, Ori considered using his domain, either to flood the region with Starlight or to chase after it using his dream avatar.

Instead, he stayed where he stood, ghost arms poised, blades humming in the quiet. The forest around him returned to stillness, broken only by the slow fall of soft feathers, and the lingering scent of ozone and blood that hung in the air.

It had gone, but it would return and next time he would be ready.