Chapter 57: She is also waiting for you in the distance.
A scarred demon soldier stumbled in, panting heavily, sweat dripping from his forehead, soaking the floor.
“Your Highness, bad news! More of our troops have gone missing!”
Movina stood, brow furrowing, then smirked playfully. “Seems the Crimson Abyss folks are getting impatient~”
“Looks like we’ve got no reason to refuse you, don’t you think, dear Princess and sweet little Saintess?”
In the sacred land of the elves, the World Tree, Ydrasil, stood since creation’s dawn, revered as the mother of all elves. Daphne Ydrasil, the elves’ goddess, was the first elf born from it, the primal elf.
A golden-haired figure approached slowly.
She drew near.
The wind reached Ydrasil before her fingers. A sweet, woody breeze lifted her blonde hair, its tips tangling with the tree’s silver vines, as if Ydrasil gently held her back. She rose on tiptoes, palm pressing against the rough bark. In that moment, its texture flooded her veins with countless stories. The bark’s grooves were poetic lines of time, each whispering ancient secrets.
“Mother, hear your faithful’s prayer.”
Her soft voice stirred the light elves in the canopy. Blue glimmers fell like stars, orbiting her. She heard a song—not from her ears, but from the tree’s roots, like a lullaby from the earth mother. A rhythmic pulse warmed beneath the bark, as if Ydrasil answered with its heartbeat.
A translucent golden leaf landed in her open hand. Its veins glowed, forming flowing runes. She held her breath as they shaped a familiar ancient prophecy:
“When dawn’s light grows chaotic, the otherworldly saintess will strum the strings of miracles…”
A cool drop of sap fell on her brow. She blinked, startled, as more resin dripped from the branches, each encasing visions: newborn elves dancing around a sapling, silver thorns blooming under moonlight, and… her own infant face in amber.
“You remember everything,” she chuckled, pressing her forehead to the trunk, new flower buds blooming in her hair. Ydrasil hummed softly, its leaves shimmering, golden dust pooling into a glowing stream, winding into the forest, guiding her toward a millennial answer.
“Holy Mother, beloved Goddess, guide me to my sister…”
Her words sank like a stone into a dark sea, unanswered.
Neither Ydrasil nor the goddess responded.
Her violet eyes clouded with loss.
The blonde elf closed her eyes, crystalline tears clinging to her long lashes, glinting in the moonlight filtering through the canopy. She rested her forehead on Ydrasil’s bark, seeking solace from the ancient tree.
“Princess Tatiana,” a gentle yet firm voice spoke beside her. “Princess Fiora’s life crystal still shines, doesn’t it?”
A silver-haired elf maid curtsied, her hair flowing like moonlight.
“You know Fiora’s always been the luckiest. She might be in some far-off place, cared for by kind people.”
Tatiana opened her eyes, her starry purple gaze misty. She touched the crystal pendant at her chest.
A small, petal-like green crystal glowed softly, proof her sister lived.
“But, Ellis…” Tatiana’s voice was faint, nearly lost in the breeze. “Even if she’s alive, what might she be enduring? Alone in a strange land, in pain… and I’m powerless.”
Her fingers tightened, knuckles whitening. “How can I, her sister, not worry…”
Ellis sighed, stepping closer to hand her a steaming cup of flower tea.
“Your Highness, you blame yourself too much. Fiora’s stronger than you think.” She smiled, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “Remember when she snuck out of the palace and got mistaken for a ‘lost noble lady’ in a human village, stuffed with pastries by the whole town?”
Tatiana paused, then laughed softly, her tears easing. “…That glutton.”
“So,” Ellis winked, “why worry? Trust Fiora’s ‘super luck.’ She’s probably by a human’s hearth, munching apple pie, grumbling, ‘Why hasn’t Sis found me yet?’”
Tatiana smiled genuinely, gazing at Ydrasil’s canopy, where sunlight dappled through like Fiora’s playful golden dust.
“You’re right,” she said softly, stroking the crystal. “I’ll find her, wherever she is.”
The crystal flickered, as if echoing her words. Tatiana and Ellis exchanged a glance.
Fiora, somewhere, was waiting for her sister.
Morning’s first rays crept through the inn’s window, casting mottled shadows on the wooden floor, heralding a new day.
In the room, three girls slept in an adorably tangled heap. Two lolis with tiny wings behind their ears clung koala-like to the holy maiden in the middle. The left one hugged her arm, drool on her pink cheek; the right buried her face in the maiden’s golden hair, murmuring “smack smack” in her sleep.
Who were they? None other than…