The wake of dawn had begun as the continuation of their halted journey began. The damaged wheel of their carriage was finally fixed with the help of the available wood and the weapons of the guards.
"Lady Ravessa, the wheel is mended. We may proceed," a guard announced.
Ravessa sighed as she rose to her feet with the support of another guard who lent a helping hand. "Oh, what a shame. I did enjoy the crackle of flames at night," she muttered, "No matter. The delay ends here"
Just then Sora awoke, rising from the grass. Just in time.
'I've been asleep... For this long?'
Ravessa cut in, having noticed the young elf's awakening, "Awake at last. Come now—we don't have all day," she said with a slight hand gesture.
One of the guards, seeing this gesture held Sora by her arms, lifting her from the ground effortlessly. The shock was evident on her face as he did this.
At TitanForge the men weren't this gentle and never offered a helping hand.
As the journey to the citadel resumed, an uneasy silence settled between them. Yet, despite the quiet, Sora couldn't shake the sensation of something lurking in their wake—something watching them with unseen eyes.
Hours bled into one another as their journey dragged on, the road stretching endlessly beneath the wheels of the chariot. By some miracle, no calamity had found them. Only the hollow whisper of the wind and the creak of wood from the carriage.
Then, at last, it rose before them. The city inhabited by the Nigh Aegis.
The land surrounding it was drowned in gray—ashen stone, lifeless ground, and a sky perpetually choked by drifting clouds. Cold winds slithered through the air like unseen specters, but even that was not what stole Sora's breath.
She stared.
The citadel was a tall monstrosity of stone and iron, vast beyond reason. It did not merely stand upon the land—it dominated it. Its colossal mass sprawled wide enough to swallow an entire island, while its spire pierced the heavens, brushing against the clouds as though daring the sky to deny it. From its peak, a single leap might grant one the illusion of touching the firmament itself.
Below it sprawled a city that eclipsed even Titan Forge.
Sora had heard rumors of places richer, safer, and grander than the abyss she had clawed her way out of. She had seen a few with her own eyes but only from books, especially this city, which she learnt of its name.
"Eldermere," she spoke, shock evident on her face.
Ravessa was mildly shocked by Sora's knowlege bit wasn't surprised, "I see you're educated about the cities inhabited by Elves"
Eldermere.
Even the word itself carried weight—ancient, dignified, and unyielding, much like the structure that bore it.
The massive black, metal gates, embedded within towering stone walls, groaned as they parted. No guards touched them. No chains rattled. Yet they opened all the same, as if the city itself had acknowledged their arrival.
A violent gust of wind erupted from within, slamming against the chariot and forcing it back a step. It felt as though Eldermere had been holding its breath—and had finally exhaled.
As they rolled inside, Sora's eyes widened.
Life surged through the streets. Blacksmiths paused mid-strike. Crop sellers lowered their baskets. Townsfolk turned as one, their conversations dissolving into murmurs that rippled through the crowd.
Then—applause.
Cheers followed, faces lighting up with awe and excitement as the chariot passed. Sorelia lifted her hand and waved with practiced grace, soaking in the adoration as if it were sunlight.
Sora remained still, her heart pounding.
A small boy suddenly broke free from the crowd. He ran toward the chariot, clutching a single flower in his tiny fist. Stopping just before her, he stretched it out with trembling hands and hopeful eyes.
Sora hesitated.
In Titan Forge, such a gesture would have been a trap—or a mistake paid for in blood.
Yet she slowly reached out and accepted the flower.
The boy's face lit up, radiant with joy, before he darted back toward a woman who pulled him close, her eyes shining.
"I informed them of your arrival at Eldermere," Ravessa whispered before turning to the crowd and accepting the cheese and kind gestures.
Something twisted in Sora's chest.
For a fleeting, dangerous moment, she imagined a life here—one untouched by hunger, fear, or contempt. A place where warmth replaced survival.
But fantasies were fragile things, beside, she had only just arrived.
The chariot crossed a wide bridge with water that seemed to glow with a cerulean, blue light leading into the heart of the citadel before coming to a halt.
The guards stepped down from their seated positions, making their way to the ladies and lending their hands.
Sora was confused by this gesture turning to face Ravessa who had already taken the hand of a guard. She hesitated, doing the same.
'What a strange custom. I feel like the ladies are being looked down on as weak here' she thought.
The entrance doors towered over them. The guards boarded the chariot once more and rode away, leaving them there. Ravessa gently pushed, the hinges screamed in protest, their echo rolling through a vast, empty hallway. The sound lingered far longer than it should have.
Silence followed.
Sora froze.
The interior—it looked mystical.
A hall that rose in cold blue majesty, it's vaulted arches curving like the ribs of a broken god. Ocean-colored light poured through the windows with the help of the sun's reflection, casting this chamber in everlasting twilight. Stone walls, carved with strange symbols.
Along the sides of the hall, velvet sofas and cushioned seats rested in quiet submission. Candles burned low in alcoves.
At the heart, a raised dais supported two chairs facing each other and a single table in the middle. A chandelier above flickered softly, its warm blue flames clashing gently with the icy glow.
To Sora, this place merely felt like a common room. It was a place of solitude where one could hear one's own thoughts perfectly.
Sora felt a strange type of cold, but at the same time, it felt warm. She scanned the room, then her eyes caught someone, or rather—something.
A female elven figure, sitting on a single chair beside the sofa, her back facing them with crimson garments barely clinging to her skin, leaving her partially indiscent, her entire back revealed down to her buttocks, a book in her hand.
A gentle 'hm?' escaped from her.
'Who could that be?' she thought.
Ravessa stepped forward, "Not going to welcome us now, are you?" she said to the woman with a smile on her face.
The strange elf stood on her feet. Then, with just a flash of something that looked like magic, she vanished.
Sora was left flabbergasted by this. Immediately, it felt like the cold had emerged with a harsher effect. She could feel something icy pressed on her skin.
But this cold feeling felt too real, like a monster had taken hold of her.
Then—she realised, it was a hug. Someone or something was hugging her.
The strange elf materialized without warning, her arms already wrapped around Sora, fingers attempting to claim every curve of her body with ease.
"Oh, what a fine pleasure. Meeting the one that caught my mother's eye," she purred, her voice high and melodic, almost like a child.
Sora couldn't move, despite all her strength. The hands that held her were shockingly cold with an unexpected gentleness to their touch that made her skin prickle in confusion.
For some time, she felt at ease. Then those pale fingers drifted lower, sliding down the length of her spine, slipping beneath the thin fabric of her loincloth without hesitation.
Sora's eyes widened and with a sharp gasp, she wrenched herself free and stumbled back. "What are you doing?!" she snapped, heat rising in her cheeks.
She froze the moment their eyes met.
The blue glow that filled the chamber wasn't responsible for the woman's skin after all. That was the way she was and her eyes—a deep shade of purple with sclera bathed in black.
She stared at Sora with gleefulness but Sora could only see one thing.
A dark elf.
She had heard stories from her mother that painted them as ruthless, seductive, and deadly. Yet this one… this one carried an air of shameless indulgence rather than menace.
"Y-you're a dark elf?" she said softly but the dark elf herself heard her loud and clear.
Ravessa's voice finally cut through the tension. "Noura. You've begun already. Could you at least try to be careful with our guests?"
The dark elf—Noura—smiled languidly and tucked a strand of jet-black hair behind her pointed ear. "Forgive me," she said, not sounding particularly sorry. "My other side has… rather eroded my manners over the centuries."
Ravessa turned to Sora, expression softening just enough to be noticeable.
"Sora," she said evenly, "this is Noura Nuelia Draeke. Spellcaster. Class One mage of the Night Aegis." A small pause. "And my daughter."
Noura offered a graceful half-bow, the motion elegant and practiced, her glowing eyes never leaving Sora's face.
Sora's mind reeled.
Daughter?
The word refused to settle. Ravessa was… what? A high elf? A wood elf? Nothing about her suggested dark-elf lineage. Had she been born to a dark-elf father? Or—? No, that couldn't be right. The bloodlines didn't mix that way… did they?
Questions collided in her head, each one more tangled than the last.
She could pretend nothing strange had happened—offer a stiff greeting and let the moment pass.
Or she could ask.
Demand answers.
Sora swallowed, throat dry, and felt the weight of both women's gazes pressing against her.
She still hadn't decided which path was safer.