"Did you ever stop to consider," he said, pausing to run a gloved finger along the edge of the platform, causing it to sway slightly, "that perhaps your Chief of Operations wasn’t the hero of that particular story? That perhaps he was merely... a convenient scapegoat? Or better yet, a carefully crafted myth designed to instill fear in the hearts of other kingdoms?"
Fletra’s eyes flashed with defiance, her mouth opening to defend the Chief’s honor, but the man raised his hand, his scarred face twisting into a cruel smile that silenced her more effectively than any shout could have.
"Spare me your blind devotion. The faith of the uninformed is as worthless as copper in a platinum mine."
He moved closer to the platform, reaching up to grasp one of the chains.
"Do you know what’s in that cauldron?" he asked conversationally, as if discussing the weather over tea rather than implementing a torture device.
"It’s a fascinating mixture—ancient Elven alchemy mixed with some... newer innovations. It doesn’t kill immediately. First, it transforms."
"...The flesh hardens, calcifies. Becomes something between stone and crystal. The process begins at the extremities—fingers, toes, the tip of the nose—and works its way inward. They say the pain is... indescribable."
Mel swallowed hard, his face pale as moonlight.
"Why are you telling us this?"
The man’s smile widened, revealing teeth that seemed too sharp, too numerous for a normal mouth.
"Because I want you to understand exactly what awaits you should your precious chief fail to appear. I want you to have hours to contemplate it, to feel the fear building in your chest like a living thing, clawing at your insides."
He released the chain, allowing the platform to gradually slow its swinging.
The creaking above them settled into an ominous rhythm, like the labored breathing of some massive beast.
"The potion needs to simmer for another few hours before it’s ready,"
"Just enough time for your chief to arrive... or not."
***
Julian moved through the landscape with practiced stealth, his strides making no sound on the moss-covered ground.
The cloak that had marked him as a mysterious figure in Silverleaf City now served a more practical purpose, its deep brown fabric allowing him to blend with the shadows between the massive trees.
-How much farther to this temple?
Julian spoke in to Vykekard through mind telepathy.
The helmet secured at his hip swayed gently with each step.
-Patience, my boy, the sacred spaces of this world cannot be rushed toward like a tavern brawl. They must be approached with reverence, with respect.
Julian suppressed a sigh. After ten years, he should have known better than to expect a straightforward answer from his disembodied mentor.
"I appreciate the philosophy lesson, but two people’s lives are at stake. A more precise estimate would be helpful."
WAHAHA!
Vykekard’s mental laughter vibrated through Julian’s skull like a small earthquake.
"Again! always so fixated on the destination rather than the journey! But very well—the temple lies just beyond the next ridge, perhaps half a league from where we stand."
Julian nodded, adjusting his course slightly to avoid a patch of luminescent mushrooms that pulsed with an almost soothing rhythm.
Their light, beautiful though it was, would reveal his position to any watchful eyes in the area.
-You know, this temple we approach was once the most sacred site in all of Elandria—perhaps in all the world.
"Is that so?"
Julian replied, his attention divided between Vykekard’s words and the increasingly dense undergrowth that threatened to slow his progress.
-Indeed! It was built to honor Eurus, the Origin Spirit of Wind, during her manifestation in human form. The elves believed that Eurus chose to walk among mortals once every thousand years, taking physical form to better understand the creatures under her protection.
Julian’s steps faltered, his body suddenly rigid with tension.
"Eurus? Did you say Eurus?"
-Yes, yes. Magnificent being, truly. Her temples were always constructed with these fascinating acoustic properties, designed to capture and amplify even the gentlest whisper of wind. The central chamber, with its soaring dome had positioned apertures that would create the most ethereal melodies when the seasonal winds passed through. It was said that on certain nights, when the alignment of the moons was just right, Eurus herself would speak through these wind-songs, sharing wisdom with those pure of heart enough to understand...
Vykekard continued to yap enthusiastically, blind to Julian’s growing discomfort and annoyance.
-The elves would gather from all corners of Elandria for these sacred communions! Pilgrimages that would take months, sometimes years! Can you imagine such devotion? Such faith? They would bring offerings of rare feathers and crystallized clouds—yes, actual clouds! The ancient elves had the most remarkable alchemical processes—
This content is taken from fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm.
"Vykekard, can you shut up?"
"Ah, yes, forgive an old knight his ramblings. Where was I? The temple! Yes, at its height, it housed over three hundred devotees, each dedicated to understanding and documenting Eurus. The library was said to contain scrolls that could control the very weather itself! Of course, most of those texts were lost during the Great Schism, when the—"
"Vykekard, I know who Eurus is."
The disembodied knight fell silent for a moment, perhaps sensing the confusion in his protégé’s mind.
When he spoke again, his voice had lost its bombastic quality, replaced by genuine curiosity.
"You... know of Eurus? How fascinating! I wouldn’t have expected a human from your... background... to be familiar with such ancient Elven lore."
"Well, it does take me back..."
Julian closed his eyes and memories flooded back with such vivid clarity that for a moment, he was no longer in the misty forest of Elandria... but back in his previous life, hunched over a dog-eared novel, devouring words by the light of a reading lamp.
Eurus, the Origin Spirit of Wind. One of the four primordial elements that had predated since the beginning of Grace.
In the original story, she was supposed to make her first appearance much later, around the ninth arc of the novel, when Ezekiel would encounter her during his quest to stop the Civil War within his country.
But Julian had changed that.
Ten years ago, through actions he’d thought insignificant at the time, he had inadvertently accelerated Eurus’ manifestation.
...
...
...
The temple gradually emerged before Julian as he crested the final ridge, the mist parting like a veil to reveal ancient, weathered stone glowing silver in the moonlight.
What must have once been a magnificent structure now stood in haunting ruin, its crumbling spires reaching toward the night sky like skeletal fingers clawing at the heavens.
But what immediately caught Julian’s attention wasn’t the temple’s faded grandeur—it was the sheer number of guards patrolling its perimeter. Explore more stories with freewebnovel
Dozens of figures moved with practiced precision around the temple grounds, their forms partially obscured by the swirling mist.
They wore no uniform, carried no banner, yet moved with the coordinated efficiency of a well-trained military unit.
Some were clearly Elven and many others being a mix of humans, dwarfs and even monsters.
Julian crouched behind a massive fallen tree trunk, its surface carpeted with luminescent moss that cast a ghostly blue glow across his masked face.
"This isn’t right, the letter said to come alone... so why the small army?"
The guards moved in patterns that struck Julian as oddly familiar, reminiscent of formations he’d witnessed during the Seven Great Families Conference three years prior.
The way they maintained distance from one another while keeping perfect visual coverage of their assigned sectors, the precise timing of their rotations, the subtle hand signals they exchanged when passing—these weren’t common thieves or mercenaries.
"They’re not expecting me to arrive. They’re expecting me to try to sneak in."
He studied the patrol patterns for several more minutes, his trained eye picking out the weak points in their formation, the brief moments when certain areas would be temporarily unobserved.
He could slip through—it would be challenging, but not impossible.
But something felt wrong about the entire setup. The letter, the kidnapping, this excessive security—it all pointed to a trap, but one designed with far more resources than a simple band of thieves should possess.
"What do you think, Vykekard?"
"I think, my boy, that you are about to walk into something far more complex than a simple rescue mission."
"That’s what I was afraid of."