Chapter Two

Sound of a scratch on a metal wall, the scraping of a chair, yet otherwise still, silent except for the rhythm of his own breath. Eial looked at the ceiling of the small room, which, just like all faces of the walls and floor, moved with the iridescent hue of an anti-magic coating. A large metal door stood tall to his right with a small window with bars for light.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust from the absolute darkness where he could make out the outline of a small, firm bed to his left and even his own small hands just before him. Observing, he looked at his palms and then the backs, and then his palms again before he wiggled his fingers and giggled. It was rare the elf could not feel the strains of magic flowing within him for so long. Within this magic blocking room, he wondered if this was how it felt to be normal. To be a magicless elf.

Freeness took his spirit as he stood up, moved his arms, danced a little as he giggled some more, and then with a twirl, his back fell onto the thin bed. Glancing up at the ceiling again, he started to wonder how Drokn had been faring as king. Was he finally happy? Eial gently closed his and drifted to sleep with the lingering thought, As long as he is happy.

As long as he is happy,

this is fine.

And so the Elf slept peacefully, thinking of his mate, locked inside an anti-magic cell of a heavily guarded elven prison.

~~~

A month prior, Eial had been asked by Drokn’s brother what his wish would be for helping to save the demon lands. After they were interrupted by a guard who had revealed the news of the elven royal’s resentment towards Drokn, Eial’s answer remained the same: “My only wish is for Drokn to become king.”

Of course that could only be his wish. Because that was his demon’s wish.

As Eial untied and retied the knot of his cape, his light voice politely requested, “Please don’t tell Drokn about what the elves think. I don’t want him to worry about other things.”

“He’ll end up finding out one day or another, anyway…,” the other voice responded.

But the elf just shook his head. “I’ll do something about this before he finds out. But please don’t tell him this either. He’s silly. He has a hard time accepting help.”

“...Do you at least need us to send assistance?”

“No, no I will take care of it, myself. “ The elf lowered his gaze with a soft, solemn smile. “It was my fault all of this happened, so I will fix it.”

The other seemed to make a conflicted face, as if biting back words that attempted to escape. Finally, the other asked, “Do you plan to leave? Without telling Drokn?”

With a conflicted expression, himself, Eial just continued to smile. And carrying that smile, he just continued to leave.

Standing before elven guards at an entrance far from the palace gates, Eial requested an audience with the royals. Normally, an audience must be preapproved and would take a while to be seen, but with the guest being who he was, Eial was permitted to enter almost immediately. Although, with heavy anti-magic clamps surrounding his hands and feet.

Despite the situation, it was Eial’s first time inside the palace and for that, it was a place of curiosities. Large white pillars stood tall as foundation, lanterns were lit with fire magic instead of oil, glass mosaics of birds, plants filtered light of sky blues and whites onto the walls.

Unlike the demon throne where the king was seated tall by his lonesome, the elves sat closer to the ground, paired with both the king and queen on white marble seats cushioned by stuffed blue velvet. Both royals wore matching robes of white embroidered with pastel greens and blues in naturistic designs. It was like Eial witnessed a painting and suddenly, he found himself growing shy with his excitement.

“Elf,” the royal lady called with an extreme gentleness, “Or, are you an elf? Your powers have been observed to be… strange.”

Remembering who he was, years of wariness ingrained into every action, a heavy heart thumped against Eial’s chest as sweat started to build down his neck at the lady’s words. Stuck between the paralyzing fear of others knowing and the resolution of his mission, Eial managed to bring out a hushed voice past a thick gulp. “I am an elf,” he paused. “...Your majesty.”

Eial had never imagined himself to be in the presence of royals and so had never practiced courtesy. Within the back of his mind, he was grateful to have read a romance book once with characters of royalty. He hoped the book had accurately described how to address the royals in situations such as these. When Eial glanced up and noticed there was no ill response, he internally breathed relief. Fiction had thankfully taught him well.

“Well then, elf, what is your name?” the same gentle voice asked.

“Eial… your majesty.” The elf noticed then that the queen’s voice echoed around the room, yet his own voice did not. Perhaps an intentional architectural plan, the little elf desperately held back a chuckle as he thought of the demon and how he would have sarcastically commented on this feature of the elven palace.

“Eial, Eial…,” the queen repeated thickly, her tongue stretched against her teeth, observing every sound. She then commented, “That’s not quite an elven name.”

The little elf stood silent, maintaining his lowered head, unsure how to respond.

“Eial, why have you sought an audience with us?”

Stretching up slightly, a mild confidence grew. He had prepared his speech from the moment he made his way back to the elven territory. Yet, as soon as he moved, he immediately noticed all the guard members around him, especially the two holding onto him, subtly tense. His posture arched back down, as Vrona’s warnings from his childhood rang in his ear.

[“Never show others your powers.”]

[“People fear what they can’t understand.”]

The gentleness of the queen’s voice had fooled him, but he was reminded again that he was an odd one, an existence that should not be known. That he, here, despite being of the same race, was undeniably alone.