Chapter 3

The hollow ache of my spent magic still throbbed in my palm. My fingers trembled uncontrollably.

I slowly turned to meet Caelum's gaze.

For a moment, I thought I had misheard him.

"What did you just say?"

There was no trace of guilt on Caelum's face, only a look of weary condescension.

He grabbed my wrist, pulling me away from the reverent eyes of the commoners and into the deep shade of a nearby ancient tree.

He lowered his voice, his tone that of someone placating a difficult child.

"Elowen, don't be difficult."

"Nyssa only has thirteen days left."

He avoided the word "death," as if the very sound of it carried a curse.

"I know you suffered from the cold iron last night. I know you're in pain." He looked at my pale face, his tone meant to be gentle, but the entitlement in his eyes was colder than any blade.

"But if you're already giving her your flesh, blood, and magic, why deny her this small sliver of glory?"

"Your mother sent you to the Lower District to accumulate the Tree God's blessings for Nyssa. With her name attached, the faith of these commoners will ease the torment of her nightmares in her final days."

He paused, his brow furrowing slightly as a hint of reproach entered his voice. "Why are you always so competitive? Must you fight her for everything?"

His words struck me with the same agony as cold iron spikes being hammered back into my wounds, or perhaps even worse.

"This empty fame? This borrowed glory?" A cold laugh escaped me. "Last time, you warned me not to fight for the marriage pact that was originally mine."

"This time, you stand here sanctimoniously using my pain to build her a saintly facade."

My voice was hoarse, but every word was clear.

"What is next, Your Highness? Will you ask me to carve the elven core from my chest and offer it to her as well?"

Caelum's brow tightened sharply, the veneer of gentleness he had so carefully maintained finally cracking.

He raised his voice, his tone now a commanding order.

"You've always been the more sensible one. You wouldn't have the heart to let your sister close her eyes with regrets."

"It's only thirteen nights. Just bear with it."

He strode closer, his strong arm wrapping forcefully around my waist, as if to force me back into the role of the compliant one.

But this time, I took a step back, shrugging off his touch.

I looked at him, my tears long since dried, leaving only a cold, profound disappointment.

"I have told all of you, countless times, that Nyssa is not going to die."

"The calls she claims to hear from underground, those nightmares… they are not meant for her."

Caelum's expression turned to ice. "Enough. Don't say another word."

"I've told you before, stop making up these stories."

"Saying such things now, it sounds as if you're cursing your own sister."

I pulled at the corner of my mouth. "So in Your Highness's eyes, even when I speak the truth, I am being venomous."

I turned away and knelt again among the withered roots, placing my palm on the next blackened section.

My movements were steady, without another word of defense.

But the hand resting on the root trembled uncontrollably.

By the time I had exhausted the last of my magic and risen, night had fallen.

The fog in the Lower District was cold and thick, carrying a bone-chilling dampness and the stench of decay.

The elven carriage rolled along the moss-covered branchways, the sound of its wooden wheels on the bark-like road a heavy thud, thud, thud against my chest.

I leaned against the carriage wall and closed my eyes, but my mind would not be still.

I clearly remembered the most ancient law of the elves, a divine decree whispered to me in my dreams by the man on the abyssal throne:

"All the life you spread in the mortal realm will be precisely recorded in the ledgers of the Underworld."

"All who receive your grace shall repay you with the pure power of their faith."

"When the divine shrine opens for you, you shall be crowned in the glory of this fervent faith."

But today, Caelum had brazenly placed Nyssa's name upon my good deeds.

The laws of the Underworld were exact. There were no mistakes.

For someone who had given nothing to attempt to seize the blessings of the World Tree's faith…

In the ancient iron laws of the elves, this was called stealing divine grace.

And to forcibly steal divine grace would inevitably invite a terrible backlash.

He thought he was helping her, but he was actually drawing necrotic energy toward her, rapidly draining Nyssa's own life force.

I pressed a hand to my chest, where a sharp, hollow ache was spreading, as if I were being hollowed out from the inside.

Returning to the Vaelen estate, I raised my hand to push open the door to the main hall, but my fingers froze in mid-air.

Laughter echoed from within.

My father's teasing, my mother's loving tone, and Nyssa's bell-like giggles.

The three voices intertwined, like a dull-toothed saw, slowly cutting through the indifference I had tried so hard to feign.

I stood in the darkness, hesitating, wondering if I should step inside.

The next second, my mother's voice changed, tinged with sorrow.

"Nyssa… I'm afraid we don't have many more nights like this, sitting together."

Nyssa began to sob. "Mother, I don't want to go… I want to stay with you and Father."

My mother started to cry, her voice heartbroken. "How could the god of the Underworld be so cruel… Why must he take my most precious treasure!"

Yes, Nyssa was their most precious treasure.

I stood in the desolate corridor. The warm light spilling from the crack under the main hall door cut across my feet, but not a single trace of its warmth could reach me.

Then, I heard Nyssa ask our father through her sobs, "Father, you hold great power in the High Elven Council… is there truly no way to find even a sliver of hope?"

"Let me stay, even just for one more year."

A terrible silence fell over the hall.

Then, my father spoke, his voice heavy. "The Seer's words are never wrong. I am destined to lose a daughter."

He paused for a long time, as if the words had drained all his strength.

"For seven of these last thirteen nights, I have knelt in the World Tree's Hall of Wishes. Every night, I have prayed for the Tree God to spare my Nyssa's life."

His words fell clearly on my ears, and I found I felt nothing at all.

I only felt that the hope inside me, the hope I had spent eighteen years desperately clinging to, had finally, in this moment, burned completely to ash.

With my sentence pronounced, I smiled to myself.

My dear father, just wait twelve more nights. Then you will have your wish.

I turned and retreated into the boundless night.

My footsteps made no sound, as if I had never been there at all.

As if House Vaelen had never had a daughter named Elowen.