"Your aura… it feels like that of someone already dead."
The words struck Lea like a slap made of ice. For a heartbeat she forgot to breathe. Anyone would feel insulted to hear such a thing — let alone from a stranger in the middle of a deadly forest. It sounded less like an observation and more like a curse, as if this Dark Elf were predicting her downfall.
"Watch your tongue!" Fueled by anger, Lea swatted away the hand gripping her chin. Without hesitation, she stepped forward and stomped on his foot with all her strength. "Don't interfere with me!"
She snatched up her fallen lantern and marched away, back straight, fists trembling — not from fear, but indignation.
The Dark Elf, however, remained rooted to the ground, a flicker of surprise crossing his striking features. Pain throbbed through his foot, and he stared down at it as though unaccustomed to being attacked by a human. By the time he looked up again, Lea had stormed off, her silhouette swallowed by the silvered fog.
"…Was I too harsh?" he muttered to himself. "I didn't mean it as an insult. I was only stating the truth I sensed. But…"
He exhaled, shoulders loosening in resignation. "Forget it."
Still, something in him twisted — an unfamiliar tug of guilt. He glanced toward the path she had taken, now empty and quiet.
So, silently and from a great distance, he followed.
Not close enough for her to sense him. Not far enough to lose sight of her. Just enough to ensure she survived Shadowfen.
Lea never noticed. She walked briskly through the tangled expanse, tracing her way home using the crude map she carried. Though the deeper forest was confusing — a labyrinth of trees and shifting fog — by a miracle, she managed to emerge without injury.
Above her, the sky had softened. The darkness was thinning, giving way to the pale blue light that seeped through the clouds. Dew clung to her hair and lashes, cool against her skin as she hurried toward the small wooden house built on the edge of Shadowfen.
The moment Lea's boots touched the wooden porch, an enveloping stillness greeted her.
"Grandma?" Her voice trembled slightly.
She pushed open the door and slipped inside. The house smelled faintly of herbs and old cedarwood — familiar, warm, grounding.
Lea rushed to the nearest room, the one where Grandma Royse slept. There, on the modest bed, lay the old woman, still and peaceful. Sleeping deeply, just as she had when Lea left the night before.
Her breaths were soft, almost too soft.
Lea touched her grandmother's hand gently, relieved to feel warmth. Then, ignoring the exhaustion dragging at her limbs, she moved swiftly to the small workspace at the back of the house.
Bundles of dried herbs hung from the beams. Pots, mortars, jars, and parchment covered the shelves and tables. Rows of green plants in clay pots rested in corners, filling the air with earthy scents.
Lea hung her cloak behind the door, rolled up her sleeves, and tied her long blonde hair behind her head.
There was work to do — important work.
She gathered all the ingredients needed for the miracle remedy, arranging them neatly on the table. The old recipe book lay open before her, its pages yellowed, its ink faded. Lea traced the scribbled instructions with reverence.
Care, patience, precision. A single mistake could ruin everything.
And so, she began.
Outside, in the branches of a nearby tree, the Dark Elf perched lazily, one leg dangling, an elbow propped on his knee as he rested his chin on his palm. His silver-white hair caught the early morning light, making him blend strangely well with the pale fog drifting beneath the canopy.
"No matter how many times I look at her, that woman is unusual." His golden eyes narrowed as he watched Lea move around the room, grinding herbs with practiced motions. "And why does she live here of all places? Is she not afraid of creatures wandering out of the forest at night?"
"Hoo—hoo—hoooo."
He turned his head slightly to the owl perched beside him. The bird looked at him with round, unblinking eyes.
"You say she stays here because of the herbs she can gather at the forest edge? That's reckless."
"Hoo-hoo."
The Dark Elf let out a faint sigh. Like all elves, he shared a deep connection with nature. Understanding the speech of animals came as naturally to him as breathing.
"So the old woman who raised her is a healer, and the girl is an herbalist?" he guessed, nodding toward Lea, visible through her open window.
The owl bobbed its head. "Hoo-hoooo."
"I see… She managed to create an antidote for Fog Ent toxins? Impressive for such an odd human." A faint smirk tugged at his lips.
"Hoo-huo," the owl hooted, eyeing him suspiciously.
"You're wondering why a Dark Elf noble like me is in a place like this?" He pointed at himself dramatically. "I was patrolling the forest. There were rumors of a wildfire, and I noticed several unusual things. So I ventured deeper, and accidentally found that strange woman being chased by furious Fog Ents."
"Hou-hooo." The owl narrowed its eyes as if scolding him.
"Tsk! I know, I know! I'll return soon. You don't have to lecture me." He clicked his tongue, annoyed yet amused.
But when he glanced back through the window, his irritation melted into contemplative curiosity.
"That human is… strange. I want to learn more about her." His voice dropped to a whisper. "While I'm gone… could you keep an eye on her?"
The owl hesitated, feathers puffing up slightly as it glared at him. "Hoo-hou."
"A reward? You want a feast of fish?" He paused, thinking. "Very well."
The owl perked up instantly, nodding eagerly. "Hoo-hooo!"
"Then I'm counting on you, Houhu." He stroked the owl's head roughly before leaping lightly from the tree. His silhouette flickered through the branches before dissolving into the dense shadows of the forest.
Back inside the house, time flowed unnoticed.
Sunrise painted the horizon in soft gold. Birds began their morning calls, and tiny forest creatures scurried in the underbrush. Yet Lea remained fully absorbed in her work, her concentration unwavering until the thick, fragrant remedy simmering in its pot reached perfection.
She exhaled deeply. "This was tiring… but satisfying."
She stretched her aching arms and glanced toward the window where sunlight now warmed the wooden floor. She wanted to bring the medicine to Grandma Royse immediately, but her stomach growled loudly in protest.
Right. She hadn't eaten.
Lea moved to the kitchen, prepared a simple breakfast, washed up, and only then returned to her grandmother's room. She drew open the window shutters, letting fresh morning air fill the room.
"Grandma, it's morning! You need to wake up," Lea called cheerfully.
The elderly woman flinched slightly as sunlight brushed her closed eyelids. With effort, she opened them, revealing eyes dulled by fatigue.
"A bright day," she whispered, her voice rasping like dry leaves.
Lea smiled — soft and relieved — and helped her grandmother sit up. "Grandma needs to eat a lot. I made a new remedy today! This one will definitely help you recover."
Grandma Royse gave a weak smile. Every week Lea created new medicines, hoping one might work, yet nothing had improved her condition. Still, the old woman never discouraged her.
"You'll become a greater healer than I ever was, Lea," she said softly.
Lea's smile widened with pride and affection. She blew gently on a spoonful of warm porridge before feeding her grandmother.
"That means you have to live long enough to see me succeed."
The warmth in Lea's voice always softened Grandma Royse's heart. She had no doubt Lea was destined for a bright future.
Breakfast finished, Lea brought the bowl of freshly brewed miracle remedy.
"Here it is! After drinking this, Grandma will definitely feel better," she said, her tone brimming with conviction.
Grandma Royse sniffed the mixture — and her weary eyes widened.
"This… Where did you get Thanora Bloom? That herb only grows deep inside Shadowfen. You didn't go there alone… did you?"
Lea froze. She almost never lied. But this time — this time she had to.
"There was a merchant in the marketplace," Lea said. "He claimed he got it from a caravan from the western continent."
Forgive me, Grandma. I just don't want you to worry…
The old woman's expression grew complicated. "Such rare herbs must be expensive… How did you afford it?"
"I—I borrowed money," Lea murmured.
Instant guilt flashed across her grandmother's face. "Oh, child…"
Lea quickly shook her head. "Don't worry! The merchant was kind. He gave me a long deadline. I'll plant the extra bulbs so we can grow more. Everything will be fine."
"For now, Grandma just needs to recover."
Anyone witnessing her sincerity would feel moved. Grandma Royse gently stroked Lea's hair, her touch roughened by years of work, yet warm with love.
"You are a kind child. I pray your life will be filled with good fortune."
She meant every word from the depths of her fragile heart.
But outside, deep in the shadows of the forest, a pair of glowing eyes watched the peaceful little house from afar—
—and fate silently stirred.