Chapter 147: Until the End of a Long Life
"By the way," she said, finally noticing the strangeness of it all, "why haven't you aged?"
It had been over a decade since their reunion. For a human, that was a significant amount of time, a time that should have brought at least a few changes, a few signs of aging. But he... he looked exactly the same, as if time had not touched him at all.
"It's probably this body. It was made with the power of a god, so it doesn't age," he explained. The Goddess of Life had used her authority over life to create the Sky-Winged, and had included in their design a spell that prevented their appearance from changing with the passage of time. And he, having inherited that authority, had naturally learned the spell as well.
"So it's a kind of eternal youth spell?" she asked, a little uncertain. For an elf, such a spell was rather pointless. Their own appearance hardly changed with age, at least not after a certain point. It was as if they had a built-in eternal youth spell of their own.
"Not exactly," he said, shaking his head. "I can't use it on others. But I could look into it. I could probably create a similar spell."
She didn't respond. She wasn't interested in such things. With the goddess slain, she no longer sought after powerful spells, but rather... just interesting ones, things she had never seen before. And his explanation was plausible enough. The power of a god, granting eternal youth... it was strange, but in his case, not entirely unbelievable. She didn't press the matter, but her thoughts lingered on his words.
After a long silence, she suddenly stopped. An idea had just occurred to her. She turned and looked at his ageless face. "If your appearance doesn't change with time... what about your lifespan? Has that changed as well?" It was a direct question, a question about whether or not his life, the fragile hourglass of a human's life, had also been frozen. Was he... immortal?
He, too, slowed his pace. He met her gaze, and a slow smile spread across his lips.
"Oh?" he said, drawing out the word, and leaned in closer, his voice a low, teasing whisper. "Are you worried, Serie? Worried that I won't be around long enough to see the end of this long journey? Or is it..." he paused, enjoying the way her calm, indifferent gaze was now beginning to waver, "...that you don't want me to die?"
"Nonsense!"
She was like a cat whose tail had just been stepped on. She whipped her head around, giving him only the back of her head to look at. "Who would miss a presumptuous creature like you!?" she said, her voice a little too loud, a little too defensive, as if to ward off the fear that was now beginning to creep into her heart. She couldn't imagine a future without him. Thirty years of searching... it had been long enough.
"Is that so?" he chuckled. "Then if I really do die one day..." he paused, watching her shoulders tense, "...you won't have to go on another foolish, thirty-year search for me. After all, I'll just be in my grave. And your own precious elven life... it should be spent on more interesting things."
"It wasn't a 'foolish' search!" she retorted. "And if you were to die, I would just... occasionally... when I happen to be passing by... take a look at your grave. That's all."
She then quickened her pace and walked ahead, leaving him with only her back to look at.
He watched her go, and a fond, helpless smile played on his lips. She couldn't lie, his stubborn, soft-hearted elven miss. He knew her too well. Her 'just passing by' would be a daily pilgrimage. Her 'occasionally' would be 'often'.
She was afraid of him dying, of him disappearing, just as he... was afraid of not being able to walk with her, to the very end.
But what she didn't know was that, from the moment he had accepted the authority over life, he had also found the possibility of reincarnation. The power of a god was not just a freeze-frame of his appearance, but a reshaping of his very being. In a way, he had already touched upon the threshold of immortality, and had gained a lifespan to rival that of an elf.
But he wouldn't tell her. Not yet. She would just get flustered and angry. And besides, to see her trying so hard to be tough... it was a little fun, wasn't it? He would let his own little secret remain for a while longer. And then, one day, after they had walked together for a long, long time, a time so long that she would begin to wonder why he was still not aging... he would give her a surprise.
A mischievous grin spread across his face, and he ran to catch up to her.
"Hey, elven miss, what's the hurry? Wait for me!"
"Shut up! Stay away from me!" she said without turning back, her steps now even faster.
But what no one saw was the slight tremor of her lip, and the silent vow she made to herself. If that day ever came, she would not just "pass by." She would go every day, and bring him a flower, a flower she thought he might like. Or she would "show" him a new spell she had learned. And she would just sit there, and even if he was no longer there to tease her, she would talk to him.
And she would do it... until the end of her own long life.
(End of chapter)
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