After making sure that Celestia is going to make it, the commotion calms down a little. Terra nods for me to follow her outside. A breath of fresh air sounds really good right now to be honest.

After walking a few steps, Terra sits down on what looks like a giant leaf bowing down to serve as a bench at a wave of her hand. The most fascinating thing I feel upon seeing it is not the fact, but how little it seems to faze me. But then again, I’ve already seen a number of ‘impossible’ things since coming to this place, so what’s one of two more?

Terra wipes off the sweat from her face after sitting down and asks, “So...what happened in there? Why are your hands burned?”
“Yeah, funny story that,” I start and then explain to her about the removal of the bullet with...very crude means, to say the least.
Terra listens attentively and then pulls out the bullet I had thrown to the ground. I didn’t even notice her picking it up...which is worrying because it’s kinda my job to ‘notice’ things. But then again, I’ve been kinda preoccupied with other things...eh, no use beating myself up over something minor like this. Just gotta roll with it and do what I can...wait…
“Um, so...why isn’t your hand burning?” I ask.
“Huh? Oh right...you are human. This bullet is enchanted.”
“En...wait, like ‘magic’ enchanted?”
“Yes. A peculiar spell too.”
“And...why doesn’t it affect you? Or...hurt you?”
“I’m a dark elf, in case you didn’t get the memo. Darkness incarnate, harbinger of destruction, bla, bla, bla. Iron doesn’t faze me close to as much as those tree huggers.”
“...wait, but your sister just almost died of that bullet...wait...are you...adopted or something?”

Terra lets out a hearty laugh and then gives me a bright smile, “Well, not the worst guess for a complete outsider like yourself. But I’m not ‘adopted’. Celestia is my real sister. But our situation is a bit...complicated. See, my mom came in contact with...a seed of darkness, you could say. Got her to freak out real good. That’s how she met my dad, actually. He was the one who stopped her.”
“Wow, talk about a hero in shining armor, huh?”
“Dad? Not by a long shot. He was smart, alright, and spoke of things nobody ever heard about before, but he was not a ‘hero’. He wasn’t strong or even just ‘noble’ he was just...y’know, ‘Dad’.”

I crack a smile and recall reading somewhere, that ‘being a good parent’ is a far more heroic deed than venturing out to slay a dragon could ever be. And also infinitely more difficult.

“So yeah...when mom and dad got comfy, I was born first and Celestia shortly after. That day, the darkness left my mother…”
I complete the sentence, “And moved on into you.”
Terra gives me a wry smile and says, “You’re pretty smart yourself for someone who hasn’t even lived for a century.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Terra lets out a long sigh and then says, “Just look at me...here I am, telling my life’s story to a complete stranger.”
“...if it’s any comfort, it’s kinda my job to listen to stories.”
“Oh? Is that what a detective does?”
“In fact it is. To listen to people’s stories and to look through the holes in them to figure out the truth behind them. People often lie through their teeth, but the truth is still always there. No matter how well it is hidden. And it’s my job to drag it out into the open. And the easiest way to do that is to listen to people talking.”
Terra laughs again but gets sad right again, looking to the ground, “I guess I just...wanted to tell someone who will remember. I mean, Celestia will, of course, but…”
“What about the other residents? Why not make friends with those?”
“Oh, I’ve tried. But they’re mostly too caught up with their own worries and woes to sit down and listen to some tomboy girl who isn’t even particularly pretty tell them about a world they’ve never known. To be fair, I never too much interest in their worlds either.”
“So...you’ve got a lot of people with stories to tell…”
“But nobody who is willing to listen, exactly. I mean, sure, over a glass or three people tell their stories regardless of who will listen, but…”
“But nobody actually cares, is that right?”
“That’s pretty spot on, yes.”

I shake my head. I hate to break the mood we’re having right now. Why, if I just rode along, I could probably even score with this ‘not as ugly as she seems to think’ girl. But, as a matter of fact, I’ve still got a job to do. Plus, it’d be very unprofessional of me to take advantage of a girl when she’s down like that...that and I’m sure someone would have my head if I went there. Quite literally.

“So...about that bullet. You said it was enchanted?”
Terra gives me an irritated look over the sudden change of topic. Almost disappointed in fact. And I can totally see why. She’s been stuck in this place basically yearning for some sort of escape, no matter how fleeting or stupid...and here I go and destroy the mood like that.
But she catches herself quickly and picks the bullet up again, making it float in midair and, by whatever means, restoring it to its former shape. I don’t even bother asking ‘how’.

“See these runes engraved on it?” Terra asks.
I must look really close, but shy away from actually touching the bullet. As if to help me, the tiny inscription suddenly lights up in a fiery red, making them clearly visible.
“...what in the world...is that?”
“That’s the enchantment.”
“Wait, so...someone scratched those...runes into the bullet to make it magic? Talk about a lot of trouble for a single bullet.”
“You’re still thinking in the standards of your world,” Terra comments with a knowing smile, “They probably made the bullet using standard methods and took them to a warlock or something who then enchanted them. The runes are kinda like the signature of the spell used.”
“But...what does it do?”
“You already know. It heats up the bullet to the melting point.”
“The...sheesh, good thing I let go of it as fast as I did. Wait...why didn’t it melt then?”
“Because it’s a targeted spell. The spell only triggers when coming in contact with a very specific aura signature. If it doesn’t, this is just a regular, run-of-the-mill bullet...except for the iron coating that is.”

A spell targeting one particular individual? But…wait, don’t tell me…

I look at Terra, the unspoken question written right across my face.
“Yes, detective. This bullet has your name written on it,” Terra answers the question.

Talk about ‘taking a proverb literally’.