The wind roared like a starving beast as we plunged deeper into the abyss, swallowed whole by the cliff's endless darkness. A chilly night draft lashed against my face hard enough to sting, tearing through my cloak while the world around us blurred into black.
I clicked my tongue in frustration.
Beside me, Eane had been smiling moments ago, strangely peaceful despite the fall. But the instant he realized I was falling with him, that fragile calm shattered. Panic spread across his face as he reached toward me instinctively.
'This kid…'
Even now, he was worrying about someone else.
I already knew what he was trying to do, and there was no way I would allow it. Before he could push himself away, I grabbed his wrist mid-fall and pulled him tightly against me. My cloak whipped violently around us like a second skin.
'If the Cloak of Narda works properly… we might survive this.'
Eane felt alarmingly light in my arms. 'Sixteen… maybe seventeen.' He was far too young to die like this.
My grip around him tightened instinctively. 'If we survive somehow, I'll make sure he gets to live freely.' That would be my penance.
Then, suddenly, a soft green light bloomed beneath us. Vines shimmered into existence through the darkness, twisting upward like streams of glowing water. They wrapped around our bodies midair and slowed our descent until the violent rush of falling became gentle enough to breathe through.
A moment later, we landed atop a massive flower growing deep beneath the cliff.
Its pale-purple petals spread wide beneath us like velvet, glowing faintly beneath the narrow opening of the night sky far above. The vines loosened and slipped away as quietly as they had appeared.
I expected the bottom of the cliff to be nothing but jagged stone and death. Instead, it was a hidden sanctuary overflowing with glowing flowers, ancient vines, and faint moonlight filtering from the world above. The air down here was heavy, still, and thick with the scent of pollen.
For several seconds, I could not move. I could only lie there breathing heavily, stunned that we were still alive.
"Eane… are you hurt?"
That was what I wanted to ask, but because the mute penalty was still active, absolutely no sound came out of my throat.
When I glanced down at my bloodstained hands, I realized how stupid the question was. Blood soaked through his clothes, warm against my arms. His breathing came shallow and uneven, yet instead of looking at his wounds, his gaze wandered past me.
"M-Madam Grandma…?"
The faint rustling of footsteps echoed softly through the darkness. Then, a staff emerged from the shadows, its emerald tip casting a gentle green light across the flowers around us.
The glow slowly revealed an elderly woman wrapped in a gray cloak. Her wavy, golden hair floated quietly, stirred by the ambient mana radiating from her staff, while her calm eyes settled on me—steady, deep, and far too knowing. The green light brushed against her slightly pointed ears, revealing her heritage as a half-elf.
'Kaiser and Eane's grandmother.'
"Oh dear me," she murmured softly, though her words carried an odd weight behind them. "It seems the wheel of fate has turned once more."
"Madam Grandma…" Eane weakly tried reaching toward her, but his arms immediately gave out. He collapsed back against me, the sudden weight making pain shoot through my already exhausted body. My muscles trembled violently as the last remnants of my strength faded fast.
'So this is my limit… Pathetic.'
I could not even sit properly in this awkward position, let alone run away. Eane was half lying on top of me while his wound continued bleeding against my chest.
"My dear, don't move too much," the old woman said gently. "Your wound runs deep."
With a subtle wave of her fingers, the glowing vines stirred once more. They carefully lifted Eane from my arms before laying him atop the opposite side of the same enormous flower petal. Soon after, another vine curled around my waist and helped pull me upright into a sitting position, keeping Eane right within my reach.
'Phew…' Relief nearly escaped my lips.
"B-but… why… how are you here?" Eane stammered weakly.
"Shhh." The old woman brushed his hair gently. "Save your strength, dear child."
Her voice carried a warmth that softened the chilly wilderness air around us. Then, she began humming softly, the melody of a lullaby drifting through the flowers and vines like a quiet spell, gentle enough to melt tension from the body. My eyelids immediately felt heavier. Sleepiness crept through me so naturally that it frightened me a little, but I forced myself to stay awake.
Beside me, Eane's breathing gradually slowed. "M-Madam Grandma… why…" he whispered weakly before finally drifting into sleep. The old woman's gaze softened as she looked down at him.
Without wasting time, she reached into her cloak and retrieved a small glass vial. The moment she poured the liquid over Eane's wound, a sharp hiss echoed through the air, and a dark purple mist rose from the injury, writhing like smoke. But the wound remained open, still bleeding.
"Just as I feared," she murmured quietly. "The blade that struck him carries dark power—a strong curse." Her fingers hovered above the wound carefully. "No ordinary potion can heal this. Only a high priest, a great healer from the western lands, or Hanyll himself could purge it completely."
'Then… is there nothing we can do?'
The thought formed silently in my head, yet the old woman smiled faintly as if she had heard it aloud.
"I would be a rather terrible healer if I couldn't save this child," she said gently.
I froze. 'Wait… can she read minds?'
A soft laugh escaped her lips, warm and amused in a way only grandmothers somehow managed. "Hehe… not exactly, my dear. It is your soul speaking to me. I merely hear its vibrations."
'…Oh.' I stared at her uncertainly. Was that even possible?
"Yes," she answered immediately. "And no, I cannot lie about such things."
That only made me more unsettled.
"Then that's incredible," I admitted honestly, "Tell me how I can help him. I'll do anything.'" Now that I knew she could somehow hear my thoughts, hiding things felt entirely pointless.
Her brown eyes gleamed with amusement. "Why?" she asked teasingly. "So you may offer this sweet child to your mistress as a plaything?"
Ah. Right. That misunderstanding.
'Wait, how does she even know about that excuse…?' Was she nearby earlier?
Thinking about it now, she was originally supposed to be the one who rescued Eane. But with her abilities leaning more toward healing rather than combat, she probably could not confront the slavers directly, especially armed fighters skilled with swords.
Still, looking at the sparks crackling quietly around the tip of her staff, I suddenly was not so sure she was defenseless at all. The air around the weapon hummed faintly with a restrained danger.
Yeah, it was probably best to clear things up quickly.
I lowered my head respectfully, placing one hand over my chest while meeting her gaze.
'Whatever this soul-speaking thing is, I just hope she understands me properly.'
"I am merely a wanderer who witnessed that horrific scene and wished to help. I have never served Duke Frallizer nor met the lady you speak of. I only knew their names by coincidence. This is the truth, and I swear it upon my life. Should you believe I am lying, you may strike me down yourself, Madam."
The old woman smiled quietly. There was something strange hidden behind that expression, something ancient and deeply unsettling.
"Just as I thought," she murmured softly, her eyes lingering on me. "You are both fortunate and unfortunate. Granted a second life, yet burdened with punishment."
My breath caught.
"And you..." she continued gently, her eyes locking onto mine, "who are tied to this child by such a thick thread of fate... may you guide him well."
Her words struck me like thunder. She knew. She knew about my transmigration and about the punishment. My heart began pounding violently against my ribs.
"Who told you that?" I demanded immediately, the frantic questions echoing through my soul vibrations before I could stop myself. "Who is controlling it? What is a sys—"
She shushed me, pressing a gentle finger to her own lips, and never answered aloud. "They are watching," her voice transferred directly into my brain as she tilted her head back to look at the sky with a bittersweet smile. "Remember how they bound your poor soul."
Right. I must not reveal anything about the system. That was a reckless, panicked impulse.
Her attention then shifted elsewhere the moment Eane suddenly coughed up a thick spray of blood.
"Oh dear..."
Concern finally cracked through her calm expression.
Quickly, she placed one hand over Eane's chest and began chanting softly beneath her breath. Ancient words flowed from her lips while thin, glowing vines slipped from her sleeves, curling gently around Eane's hand before piercing both their skin like tiny needles. Then, the vines connected them.
At the same time, glowing magic circles spread across the rocky ground beneath the flowers, illuminating the hidden basin in a pale green light. When the old woman pressed her hands together, thinner vines carefully slid into Eane's wound.
The sight made my stomach tighten.
They moved delicately through torn flesh and damaged organs, stitching everything together with terrifying precision, like living threads guided by an invisible surgeon. But the longer the spell continued, the worse the old woman looked. Blood slowly trickled from the corner of her lips and her breathing grew uneven, yet she continued chanting without hesitation.
Then, realization struck me. 'Wait… this technique…'
Connecting pulses through a living medium. It was an ancient, forbidden elven magic: the sharing of life force.
Elves, blessed with lifespans far longer than humans, once used this forbidden art to extend the lives of those they loved. According to history, the technique was created by the Elven High King himself after he fell in love with his human wife. But the price was cruel. Once the life force was shared, both souls became permanently bound together. When one died, so did the other.
The Elven King willingly accepted that fate, and in doing so, he destroyed his kingdom.
After his death, chaos consumed the Elven Realm. Their next heir, a half-human princess, was rejected by the pureblood nobles for being too human. The kingdom weakened from within while enemies invaded from outside. Forests burned, elves were enslaved, and their once-glorious homeland collapsed into ruin.
From that day onward, the fallen king was remembered not as a lover, but as a traitor who abandoned his people for humanity. His bloodline was eventually exiled into the Middle Realm—a place the remaining elves bitterly referred to as the land of wicked humans.
'That was the history I wrote…'
It was a background story meant for Kaiser to uncover much later during his journey. He was originally supposed to learn it from the current Elven King, the same ruler who would eventually trust him despite his human blood.
And yet, looking at the woman standing before me now, a strange feeling settled heavily inside my chest.
A sudden chime echoed in my mind, and a translucent blue screen flickered briefly before my eyes:[Notice: The 'Mute' penalty duration has expired. Verbal communication is now restored.]
A rough gasp tore from my throat as the invisible pressure lifting from my vocal cords. Finally, my voice returned.
"…A-are you," I asked carefully, my voice trembling in the quiet cave, "the former princess of Lazelluan Forest, the lost princess of the Elven Kingdom?"