I stood over the body, my face a mask of calm. I felt no fear, no flicker of worry—only a lingering detachment from my past life. He deserved this, I thought.
My gaze shifted, and I saw her: the little elf girl, crouched in a dark corner, trembling. When I took a step toward her, she flinched. "Stay away from me!" she cried, her voice thin with terror. "I won't go back there again."
I softened my approach, crouching down to her level. "Don't be afraid," I said gently. "I won't let anything happen to you." For a moment, I wasn't seeing her, but the girl from my past—the one I had died trying to save. This child looked so much like her.
Minutes later, the sound of marching boots announced the arrival of my father, Keal, with a detachment of soldiers. I watched them survey the devastation: the door and the entire section of the wall around it were gone, blasted into rubble. A great oak tree nearby was snapped in two, its upper half lying splintered on the ground.
A soldier approached me. "What happened here?"
I pointed to the body. "He recited a spell," I said coolly. "And blew himself up." A dead man tells no tales, I thought with grim satisfaction.
One of the soldiers eyed the corpse of the man, Ashok, with a suspicious frown, while others began to search the ruined house. They soon found a stash of illegal "Trunthorse," a potent substance used in dark magic to summon monsters—and strictly banned throughout the kingdom. The lead soldier started to ask me another question, his hand reaching out as if to compel an answer, but he seemed to reconsider and let it drop.
The soldiers then turned to the girl. "Do you know anything?" one asked her.
She remained silent, her wide eyes fixed on the floor. I was surprised. I had fully expected her, a mere child, to break down and reveal everything. But she said nothing. I watched the soldiers call my father aside. "Sir, you know the fate of orphans in these parts," the soldier murmured, though I could still hear. "They are often taken by slavers and sold on the black market. The rarer the species, the higher the price."
My father understood perfectly. He walked over to the child, his shadow falling over her. He bent down and asked, "Would you like to come with us?"
I watched from the sidelines, silent.
The little girl didn't answer. My father sighed, turning to leave. "You're just leaving her here alone?" I called out. "If she doesn't want our help, Shlok, we can't force her," he replied.
How foolish, I thought. She's just a terrified little girl, her choice hardly matters.
But just then, she slowly got up. She pushed a stray lock of silvery hair from her tear-streaked face and, with a sudden burst of courage, walked quickly to grab the hem of my father's tunic.
I saw my father's stern expression soften. He scooped her up into his arms, and the exhausted child fell asleep against his shoulder almost instantly. We then headed for home.
I opened the door, and my father followed, carrying the sleeping girl. My mother, Elra, and our maid, Lyar, saw us from the hallway. "Who is..." my mother began.
"I'll explain everything," Keal said, cutting her off gently. He carried the girl to a spare room and laid her down on the bed. "It's time for a family meeting."
Everyone gathered in the small hall. My mother, deeming me too young for such a serious discussion, sent me to take a bath. As the hot water washed over me, my mind raced. I really thought that girl would tell them everything about me. But she didn't say a word. Maybe she didn't see it properly? No, how could she not have seen an explosion that big?
Whatever, I concluded. I'll figure it out myself later. I wonder what they're deciding in there. I just hope they give her away to someone. What does it matter to me? Maybe she can live as a maid in the king's palace. We'll see.
I was exhausted. After my bath, I peeked through a crack in my door and saw the meeting was still in progress. Shrugging, I dried my hair with the towel on my shoulder, went to my room, and collapsed onto my bed. So much happened today, was my last waking thought before darkness took me.
Then, I wasn't in my bed. I was in that lavish whorehouse again, the air thick with the smell of spiced wine and incense. I was sprawled on a bed of velvet sheets, drenched in alcohol, terribly drunk. In the center of the opulent room, under a glittering chandelier, dancers moved like living flames.
The haze of my stupor was pierced by a familiar voice. It wasn't one of the girls, but my own younger brother, his face etched with worry. "Elder brother, please don't drink so much. Dad is worried sick. Please, stop this. Everyone is worried about you. Do you know how much Mom suffers? She doesn't eat all night, she just prays for you."
A drunken rage boiled inside me. I hurled my goblet. It struck him squarely on the forehead, and blood streamed down his face. I staggered up, my words slurring but venomous. "You'll teach me what to do? Ha! Go tell everyone that I'm dead to them! I'm dead!"
Suddenly, the doors burst open. Soldiers stormed in, their swords drawn. They began to cut down patrons and dancers indiscriminately. Before I could react, two soldiers seized my brother. A blade flashed. His head was severed from his shoulders, landing with a sickening thud on the velvet-covered floor.
"Brother...!"
I bolted upright in bed, the scream still raw in my throat. My heart hammered against my ribs. What a twisted nightmare. The golden morning sunlight was streaming into my room, chasing the last shadows away.
I remembered the girl. Getting out of bed, I saw her peeking at me from the doorway, her large elven ears twitching nervously. I gestured for her to come in. She entered timidly. I thought she would have left by now, I mused. What is she still doing here?
"Thank you for saving my life," she said, her voice soft as wind chimes.
"Life? Oh... It was nothing." I noticed she was wearing fresh, new clothes and looked clean and unbearably cute.
"Maa is calling you downstairs," she said sweetly.
"Maa?" The word, so intimate, so familial, grated on me. My mind reeled, but I clamped down on my annoyance and said nothing. I got ready and went downstairs.
I found my mother in the kitchen, humming as she cooked, while my father sat at the table reading a newspaper. Seeing me, he smiled and called me over. My mother came out to join them. They gestured for the little elf girl to come forward.
"Son," my father said, his face beaming in a way that set me on edge. "Your mother and I have made a decision. From today, she will live with us as part of our family."
The little girl bowed her head politely. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
"What? Is this some kind of joke?" I thought, bewildered.
"But Maa," I said aloud, trying to keep my voice even. "How can she live here? Her parents must be worried sick about her."
My father's smile didn't falter. "Come with me, Shlok. Let's do something." He led me outside to the family garden, a lush patch of green where strange and wonderful plants grew. The fruits of this world were odd, but they held a unique, delicious taste. He led me to an empty patch of earth.
"This spot will do," he said, and we both squatted down. He took two seeds from his pocket. One was perfect, smooth and full of promise. The other was slightly flawed, a little withered.
"Now, take care of these," he said. He dug two small holes. "Plant them."
What is this nonsense? I thought, frustrated. It would have been better if he'd just refused to answer me.
Still, I took the seeds and buried them. Cool, dark soil clung to my hands, and I was surprised by its rich, earthy fragrance—so potent I almost felt I could taste it.
"Now," my father instructed, "you will have to water both of them, every day."
"What will grow from them?" I asked.
He simply smiled. "That, my son, is a secret."
"Secret, my foot!" I grumbled internally.
We went back inside. I had lost all hope of getting a straight answer. We all sat down to eat. I absolutely hated the idea of her sitting next to me at the family table, but I saw I had no choice. I forced myself to be calm and began to eat, the silence at the table heavy with unspoken questions.
To be continued...