Chapter 21
Written by Bayzo Albion
My first quest was simple: track down the elf and settle my debts.
As always, I trusted my gut. I let my feet carry me through the village, hoping fate would guide me to her. I wandered every winding street, every shadowed alley, but found no trace of the elusive enchantress. Not a whisper, not a glimpse.
*Fine. Time for Plan B—interrogate the locals.*
"Excuse me," I called out to anyone who crossed my path. "Anyone know where I can find an elf enchantress?"
I questioned fishermen hauling nets, market women peddling wares, drunken wanderers slurring tales, and girls giggling on benches. Every answer was the same: "Oh, she was just here… but she's gone now."
Once. Twice. Ten times. I was starting to think she was slipping through my fingers on purpose, like smoke curling out of reach.
"Persistence is easy when you're not burning with rage or collapsing from exhaustion," I muttered, trying to keep my cool. But inside, I felt like a hound chasing a fox that knew every trick in the book—and enjoyed the game far more than I did.
"Pardon me, miss," I said to yet another passerby, a young woman with a basket of herbs. "Have you seen an elf enchantress? I need to settle a debt with her."
She pointed toward the tavern, her expression kind but distracted. "She's there, I think. Just went in."
I nodded my thanks and sprinted toward the tavern, my boots pounding the dirt. I flung the wooden door open with a crash, half-expecting the entire pantheon of gods to be chasing me. But, of course, the tavern was empty of her presence. No elf, no enchantress, just the usual crowd of patrons nursing their drinks.
Frustration bubbling, I strode to the bar and leaned toward the innkeeper, a burly man polishing a mug with a rag. "Hey, have you seen an elf enchantress? I need to find her—urgently. Where was she last?"
He jerked his head toward the door, barely looking up. "Saw her by the entrance, not long ago."
I let out a dry laugh. "Hilarious."
"Look, kid," he said, his voice gruff but not unkind. "I run a tavern, not a spy network. I don't keep tabs on who comes and goes."
"Fair enough," I said, swallowing my irritation.
I stepped back outside, the evening breeze tugging at my cloak. The sun dipped low, painting the sky in hues of amber and violet. For a moment, I wondered if this whole chase was absurd—like I was a character in some poorly written play, doomed to run in circles.
And yet…
*There's something fun about this madness,* I admitted to myself. *Back in the real world, I'd be a stressed-out wreck by now. Here? It's like a game—a brutally hard one, but a game nonetheless.*
I took a deep breath and pressed on.
If she wanted to play, I'd play better.
My next move was to find her house. Simple enough, right? Wrong. This village was a labyrinth of chaos, houses sprouting like mushrooms with no rhyme or reason. No signs, no markers, no hints. I scoured the streets, doubling back, circling, trapped in what felt like a magical loop.
Just when despair started creeping in, I spotted a figure in a narrow alley. Tall, graceful, draped in a shimmering cloak that caught the fading light. Her hair cascaded like molten silver, glinting under the twilight. Her face was otherworldly—too perfect, too sharp, like a statue carved by divine hands. *Could this be her mother?* I thought. *Or someone from her kin?*
I approached, trying to look polite and not like a complete fool. "Good evening, my lady. I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm looking for an elf enchantress. I owe her a debt. Do you know where—"
"No," she cut me off, her voice as cold and smooth as a frozen lake.
I blinked, caught off guard. "Please, I just need a hint. Anything at all."
She studied me for a long moment, her eyes a mix of boredom and faint condescension, as if I were too pathetic to scorn but too stubborn to ignore. Then, slowly, she extended her hand. Resting in her palm was a delicate handkerchief, light as a spider's web, embroidered with a crescent moon at the edge.
"I have her handkerchief," she said, her tone flat, revealing nothing.
I stared at it, baffled. *What am I supposed to do with this? Wipe my tears? Sniff out her trail? Is she mocking me?*
Still, I wasn't about to refuse. I took the handkerchief from her slender, almost translucent fingers. It was warm, as if it had been clutched tightly moments before—or as if it still carried the faint pulse of its owner's magic.
I looked up to thank her, but she was already gliding away, her form blending into the dusk.
"Now what?" I muttered, clutching the handkerchief. It was beautiful, delicate, the embroidery meticulous. But it was just a piece of cloth—no address, no directions, no answers.
*Write her a letter? Wave it on a stick and parade through the village like an idiot?*
I turned it over in my hands, my mind grasping at straws. Then, out of sheer desperation, I glanced around to ensure no one was watching, lifted the handkerchief to my nose, and inhaled.
The scent was… unexpected. Not sweet, not cloying, not perfumed. It was alive, like a forest after rain—mint, lavender, yarrow, woven together in a crisp, soothing bouquet. It was the scent of a healer fresh from gathering herbs, vibrant and grounding. I breathed deeper, and something clicked.
It wasn't desire — just instinct, like testing the air for a storm.
In this place—this strange, paradisiacal world—my senses were sharper, keener, like a hunter's. My nose caught nuances I'd never noticed before. An idea, ridiculous and wild, sparked in my mind.
*What if I track her by scent?*
It was absurd, borderline insane, but I was out of options. I lifted my nose like a bloodhound, catching the faint trail of her scent, and followed it. The aroma waxed and waned, stronger in some places, fading in others. I moved through the village streets, looking like a madman, but the trail held. It led me to the outskirts, past houses, along a winding path, through a hedgerow. The scent grew stronger, sharper. I was close.
*There! She was here, just moments ago!*
I quickened my pace, heart pounding, breath coming fast. Excitement surged—she was near, I could feel it. Just a little further, and I'd—
Nothing. The trail vanished. The air was clean, empty, as if she'd never existed—or as if she'd slipped away seconds before I arrived. I stumbled onto an open clearing, the scent gone like a snuffed candle.
"Damn it," I hissed, dropping to a crouch, head bowed. "Two seconds too late."
I clutched the handkerchief, still warm with her scent. "Who'd have thought a scrap of cloth and a dog's nose would almost work?"
I stared at the horizon, the last light fading. "Alright, elf. Let's keep playing."
For what felt like hours, I chased her ghost through the village, a fool in a game of cat and mouse. Just when I was ready to give up, she found *me*.
"You're looking for me?" Her voice was soft, enveloping, like a breeze that carried secrets.
I spun around. "Yeah, but you're impossible to find."
"I'm right in front of you," she said, a hint of mockery in her tone.
I blinked, and suddenly, she was there—close enough to touch. Tall, lithe, her eyes glinting with lazy amusement, arms crossed. A faint smirk played on her lips, as if she'd been watching my futile chase and found it endlessly entertaining.
"I came to settle my debts," I said, cutting to the chase.
Her brow arched, sharp and elegant. "What, turned into a hound and scraped together some coin?"
My inner voice snickered, *"Hound? That's the male version of 'harlot'? Sounds insulting. 'Slut-hound' has a better ring to it. File that one away…"* I ignored the jab, focusing on her. "Something like that. But don't think it was easy."
She sized me up, her gaze like a merchant appraising dubious goods. "Didn't think you had it in you, not with that frail body of yours."
"Neither did I," I admitted, a grin tugging at my lips. "Guess the world's full of surprises."
"Or idiots," she shot back, her smirk widening.
We stood there, face-to-face—me, exhausted but defiant; her, poised and unshakably confident. The air between us crackled with unspoken words.
"So, you want to settle up?" she asked.
"Yeah. Let's end this."
"Pity," she said, her voice teasing. "I was starting to enjoy watching you chase me."
I stepped closer—too close, maybe—and handed her four gold coins. As I did, I caught her scent again, stronger now. It was strange, intoxicating, like a rare elixir you don't want to drink but can't stop inhaling. It stirred something in me—curiosity, unease, allure.
"What are you doing?" she asked, stepping back, her tone caught between surprise and amusement.
*Scents in paradise I don't recognize? That's new. I thought nothing could surprise me anymore.*
Before I could stop myself, I hugged her…