Elysian trailed behind the old thralgar, his gaze locked on her every move. Her steps were slow, deliberate, as though each carried the weight of unspoken truths. He didn’t mind the pace. It gave him time to watch her, to study the quiet power in her weathered frame.

  She was hunched, her once-imposing height bowed by the years, yet she commanded respect with every step. Even diminished, she towered over most man, her ashen-grey skin streaked with dark green veins—a mark of her troll lineage. Her eyes, deep-set and glowing faintly with amber light, pierced the gloom like embers in a dying fire. Her robes, plain at first glance, revealed their true significance in the runes etched along their hem—glyphs of moss-green and stone-gray that marked her as one of Draekthar’s revered elders. Silvery-white hair cascaded down her back, braided with small bones, beads, and feathers, each token whispering of history. Her nails, long and clawed, bore intricate carvings, ceremonial wards etched deep into their surface.

  In her hand, she leaned on a gnarled staff. It looked like nothing more than a walking stick to the untrained eye, but Elysian’s instincts screamed otherwise. The artifact radiated a quiet menace, a danger too subtle to grasp yet impossible to ignore.

  Oddly, the old woman herself gave off no tangible sense of power. Not the raw, overwhelming force he’d felt from others today. Instead, her presence carried the same unassuming authority as the Matriarch—a grandmother’s warmth wrapped around something unfathomably sharp. It was that absence, that unsettling stillness, that made Elysian’s skin crawl. Of all the thralgar he’d encountered, she alone stirred his instincts to run, though he couldn’t say why.

  Around them, thralgar and trolls alike stopped in their tracks, bowing as she passed. Deference rippled through the crowd like a silent wave, parting the path ahead.

  Elysian’s eyes lingered on her face, on the melancholy etched into her features. Her gaze kept drifting back to the Great Tree, her expression softening as though she saw beyond its towering presence. He felt a pang of unease as he imagined the weight behind her thoughts—the burden of memory, the ache of lives lost in defense of something cherished.

  Elysian kept his distance, saying nothing, his thoughts a quiet storm as he followed her.

  “What we have lost to protect this cruel and callous world,” Halda murmured, her voice more to herself than to him. “And what we are still losing to continue in its defense. Yet our sacrifice has been all but forgotten… taken for granted… lost in the passage of time.” Her words hung in the air, soft but laden with a weight that seemed to echo through the stillness. She sighed, the sound heavy with the burden of time and generations. Though her exterior was stern, there was a calmness to her, a patience forged in ages of trial.

  Without warning, Halda slowed her pace, her footsteps dragging to a halt. She turned to face him.

  Elysian froze mid-step, his breath stopping as he stumbled back, startled by the sudden shift. His pulse quickened, the steady thrum of his heart now a rapid drumbeat.

  Her gaze locked onto him, deep and unrelenting, peeling away the layers of his composure like bark stripped from a tree.

  Elysian opened his mouth to speak, to ask if something was wrong, but the words lodged in his throat. Instead, he swallowed hard, his unease intensifying. He couldn’t explain it, but standing in her presence made him feel small, like a wayward child caught in the glare of an old teacher. She radiated neither the raw power of the Matriarch nor the threatening presence of warriors like Vrakdur, yet she terrified him more.

  The silence pressed down, oppressive and calculated. He could almost feel the same tactic he often used on others—a deliberate pause meant to unnerve—turned back against him.

  And it was working.

  What unsettled him most wasn’t her authority or even the calm menace in her eyes. It was the dislike—unmistakable and sharp, glinting like steel beneath her measured gaze. She didn’t like him. That much was clear.

  His mind raced, thoughts clashing like blades.

  ‘Damn it, why am I afraid? She could kill me, for one—like everyone in this damnable place. But why does she hate me? I didn’t do anything to her—or her clan. I’m the victim here. Hostage. Blackmailed. Damn it.’

  The boy’s fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. Yet, he didn’t dare break eye contact. He wasn’t sure what message that would send, but he knew it wouldn’t be a good one. Left without a choice, he planted his feet and summoned every ounce of will to appear calm. Calm—but not defiant. Respectful, but not groveling.

  Elysian knew his position too well—powerless. The only weapon he had was not making things worse. “I’m sorry if I’ve been disrespectful,” he muttered, his voice low, head bowing in a gesture of respect. “If I’ve done anything to offend you, I didn’t mean to.” The old thralgar didn’t flinch. Her sharp gaze remained locked on him, unreadable except for the cold dislike that radiated off her like a frost in the air. His pulse quickened. “I only just woke up… I don’t know your culture, your ways. If I’ve acted wrongly, I ask for your forgiveness.”

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  Still, no response. The silence bit into him, dragging out the discomfort like a blade over skin. Then she frowned—a deep, unrelenting crease that made him feel smaller than he already did.

  “I don’t like your kind,” Halda said at last, her voice sharp and unyielding. The words hit him like a slap. He froze. “You rootless always bring trouble,” she continued, her tone like stone grinding against stone. “Destruction follows your kind like a shadow. Since you arrived, more problems have taken root in our clan. More fractures. More loss.”

  Elysian blinked, her words sparking a flurry of thoughts.

  ‘Wait, what? She’s not talking about me—or not just me. Who else? Who’s she really blaming?’

  “Did someone else come here?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

  Halda’s frown deepened. Her silence spoke volumes, but her gaze remained piercing, unrelenting. “You don’t need to concern yourself with that,” she said finally, her voice low but charged with meaning. “What you do need to know is this—you had better not cause any trouble here.” Her eyes flared suddenly, a brief but blinding amber glow. The air around her shifted, heavy and oppressive, as if the space itself stirred to her will. “Because if you do…” She stepped forward, and the power she radiated hit him like a swarm of insects—piercing, burrowing, relentless. It wasn’t the crushing force of the Matriarch’s aura, but it was worse in its precision. It clawed at him, at something deeper than flesh.

  Elysian staggered back instinctively, his body rebelling against the onslaught. His knees trembled, betraying him, even as his mind screamed to stand firm. It felt like drowning, but in something alive—something crawling.

  ‘Sh*t.’

  Still, Elysian forced himself to straighten, even as every nerve in his body screamed to run. Others might have buckled under the pressure—collapsed to their knees or surrendered in trembling fear. But not him. His teeth clenched, his jaw tightening until he felt the strain. Slowly, his gaze rose, locking with Halda’s unyielding stare. The respectful, appeasing demeanor he had worn like armor moments before was gone, stripped away by sheer necessity.

  In its place stood defiance—a raw, rebellious will staring down the storm.

  ‘Why does my second chance feel like a cosmic joke? Why am I facing monsters after monsters even my old self wouldn’t dare approach? Fate is really having fun with this.’

  "Why the hell are you blaming me?" the noble spat, his voice sharp, his chest heaving. Blood dripped from his bitten lip, staining his chin. His pulse pounded against his skull, but he didn’t falter. “It’s the same everywhere, isn’t it?” His voice rose, trembling but unyielding. “Even in this place—this ancient, sacred, eternal place—the strong still crush the weak. Bullies flex their power on anyone smaller, anyone helpless. You’re blaming me? A powerless boy, dragged here against his will?” His breath stopped as he forced a bitter laugh, his lips twitching into a crooked smile. “Sure, yeah, that checks out. Blame me for everything. Blame me for the rain. Blame me even for your aching bones. That’s how it always works, doesn’t it?”

  Halda’s piercing gaze bore into him for what felt like an eternity. The silence was a weight on his chest, a blade balanced precariously above his throat. But still, he stood his ground, trembling legs and all. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, her terrifying aura vanished. Gone, like smoke dissipating into the wind. Halda blinked, her expression unreadable as she turned on her heel.

  “Come,” she said calmly, her voice as measured as before. “We mustn’t keep the Matriarch waiting.”

  The release hit Elysian like a breaking wave. His shoulders sagged, and his knees wobbled beneath him. Relief washed over his face, but his body refused to let him forget the encounter. His legs trembled with each step, his breath uneven, but he willed himself to follow.

  The silence between them returned, as heavy as before, though something had shifted. He caught a fleeting glimpse of her face—a subtle change in her expression. Her stern, weathered features seemed softer somehow, less cold. There was no warmth, but the edge of disdain had dulled.

  ‘Did I imagine that?’

  Elysian couldn’t bring himself to dwell on his thoughts. Whatever it was, he was grateful the ordeal with Halda had passed—for now. But instead of relief, a sigh escaped his lips. His chest tightened with the weight of what awaited him.

  ‘The Matriarch will be worse.’

  Every step forward brought Elysian closer to something that would decide not only his fate but the fate of his people. Worries crashed over him in relentless waves, battering his already troubled mind. By the time he noticed his surroundings, they had arrived.

  The air shifted subtly, and Elysian blinked, realizing they stood before the humble abode of one of the most powerful beings he had ever encountered—in this life and the last.

  He hadn’t noticed the climb, nor the passage through the towering branches of the great tree. His thoughts had consumed him, churning over strategies, fears, and impossible odds. The alien environment around him went ignored, though now, as he glanced around, the air itself seemed alive.

  Unlike the sprawling council chamber nestled in the lower branches, this part of the tree exuded a different kind of power. Not overwhelming or oppressive, but ancient and soothing, a gentle hum that seemed to steady his chaotic thoughts. Elysian felt it brush against his senses, like cool water on a fevered brow.

  The scenery here was unlike anything below. The upper branches held no other buildings, no signs of life save for the single structure before him. Perched atop a massive, gnarled limb, the Matriarch’s hut stood alone.

  It was simple—a small, weathered hut with a modest garden that spilled over with strange, vibrant plants. Each one radiated an energy Elysian couldn’t quite grasp. He lingered for a moment, his gaze sweeping over the flora, wondering absently how much such rare specimens might fetch in the markets of Portia. The thought flickered and faded, replaced by a quiet dread that clawed at his chest.

  Halda stopped suddenly, pulling him back to the present.

  The hut seemed unremarkable at first glance, almost unworthy of someone so powerful. Yet its position spoke volumes. From here, the entire clan spread out below, a patchwork of homes and winding paths dwarfed by the massive branches. It was a view befitting someone who saw the world not as it was—but as a whole.

  “Come in.” The Matriarch’s voice drifted from within, low and calm, carrying with it an undeniable weight. Halda pushed the wooden door open without a word, stepping aside to let him pass.

  Elysian’s heart lurched. He swallowed hard, forcing his feet to move.

  ‘Let’s hope this second meeting is better than the first.’

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