The room was nearly empty now. Most of the warriors had gone outside, leaving only three figures seated on the floor beside an unconscious Ziraiah.
Silvie exhaled, glancing between the two brothers. "Any one of these people could've killed you in an instant, yet you still stuck your neck out for your sister. Wish I had someone like that."
Eryndor, sitting with effortless poise, offered a faint smile. "Though they constantly quarrel, my brother harbors an undeniable fondness for our sister."
Valerius turned his face away, embarrassed. "Don't say stupid things."
Silvie chuckled before hesitating, as if weighing her next words. "Can I ask you guys a question?"
Valerius, now lying flat on the floor, stretched lazily. "Sure, why not?"
Silvie glanced at them both. "What are Elvheins? At first, I thought you guys were humans like me."
Valerius shrugged. "No idea. We only found out we were Elvheins a few days ago."
His gaze drifted toward Eryndor. "Come to think of it, I wonder what happened to Kaelan. Is he still frozen in that lab?"
Eryndor crossed his arms, his expression contemplative. "One would hope he has been liberated from his frigid prison, lest he remain an artifact of ice, forgotten amidst the chaos."
Valerius snorted. "Yeah, right. The whole city was in shambles—I'm sure they forgot all about him."
Silvie frowned. "Who's Kaelan?"
Valerius propped himself up on his elbows. "The first person we met on Yilheim. He told us what we are, and we've been with him since."
Eryndor glanced at his brother, then added smoothly, "You neglect to mention that he also saved our lives."
Silvie nodded, thoughtful. "You're lucky to have met someone like that."
Her brows furrowed suddenly, a memory surfacing. The white panel—the glowing text she had seen upon arriving in Yilheim.
She edged closer to Valerius, her voice lowering. "Do you also see the white panels?"
Eryndor raised an eyebrow. "White panels?"
Valerius tilted his head. "What white panels?"
A voice interrupted them out of nowhere.
"I believe she is referring to me."
Valerius jolted upright, startled. "Damn it, Yelleen! Don't do that! I almost had a heart attack. And where the hell have you been this whole time? I completely forgot about you."
Silvie blinked, watching Valerius talk to thin air. "Uhh... is he okay? He's talking to himself."
Eryndor, ever composed, explained with his usual refinement. "We do not perceive panels, as you do. Instead, we are accompanied by an ever-present voice within our minds."
Silvie's eyes widened. "Seriously?"
Eryndor inclined his head slightly. "Indeed."
A flicker of curiosity crossed his face. "I find myself rather intrigued by this 'panel' you speak of. Would you be so kind as to elaborate? Ours was certainly not white."
Silvie leaned closer to Valerius, whispering, "Does he always talk like that?"
Valerius smirked, whispering back, "Yeah, he's weird. He sees normal people as peasants."
Eryndor didn't even glance at them as he coolly remarked, "Your whispered musings are not so discreet as you might believe, dear brother."
Valerius snorted. "So what? It's not like I'm hiding it."
Eryndor gave him an unimpressed look. "If secrecy was never your intent, then what purpose does this hushed tone serve?"
Valerius stretched his arms behind his head. "I'm not whispering, I'm just speaking in a low voice."
Eryndor exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Endless discord yields no victor, yet you seem intent on engaging in such trivial contests."
Turning back to Silvie, he straightened his posture. "It seems my brother's lack of decorum is rubbing off on me, for I have engaged in discourse with a lady without first offering my introduction. I am Eryndor."
Silvie shook his hand. "Silvie."
Eryndor nodded politely. "Now, regarding your white panel?"
Silvie hesitated before continuing. "It appears right in front of me—white with black text. And the weird thing? It's in English, even though this is another world. The first thing it ever told me was I am Yelleen and I will be your guide. Something like that."
Valerius' expression darkened. "Yelleen… was that you?"
"Yes."
Valerius frowned. "Does that mean you're in everyone's head?"
"Yes."
His frown deepened. "How?"
"You will know when the time comes."
Valerius groaned. "Of course. You never tell us anything."
Eryndor, his mind sharp as ever, mused, "I recall that we, too, once perceived such panels in the beginning. However, they ceased appearing days ago. Now, all that remains is the voice."
Silvie turned to Valerius. "So Yelleen is the voice in your head?"
Valerius nodded. "Apparently, she wrote the stuff you see on your panels too."
Silvie exhaled, looking up. "Really? Well… thank her for me. I would have died without her guidance."
Eryndor regarded her curiously. "So you believe us?"
"Yeah."
Silvie pushed herself up and dusted off her clothes. "Come on, I'll show you your room."
Valerius stood, but instead of following her, he walked over to Ziraiah, kneeling beside her. A mischievous glint flickered in his eyes.
With an eerily soft, affectionate tone, he whispered, "Ziraiah… Ziraiah… little sis…"
Then, his expression twisted into something monstrous—eyes rolling back, mouth stretched wide in a grotesque grin.
And he screamed in her face.
"ZIRAIAH!!!"
Ziraiah's eyes snapped open—only to be met with an abomination inches from her face.
"AAAHHH!"
Instinct took over. Her hand lashed out, striking Valerius with a slap so devastating, the snap of impact echoed through the room.
CRACK.
Valerius was launched across the floor, crashing into the far wall. His body slumped forward, unmoving.
Everyone froze.
Silvie's jaw dropped. The few warriors who remained in the room blinked in shock. Even Eryndor, always composed, raised an eyebrow.
Valerius, still lying on the floor, eyes wide open, processed the damage.
He couldn't move his neck.
He couldn't move his jaw.
Scratch that—he couldn't move anything.
His mind raced. What the hell? I can't move my head. I can't move my mouth either. What did she just do to me?
A voice murmured from the crowd. "Oh… he's dead."
Another woman scoffed. "I heard something crack."
The woman grinned. "I bet 500 Narlins he survives."
The man beside her smirked. "I bet 500 he's dead. No Earther can survive that."
The woman's smile widened. "Oh? Already forgot? They're Elvheins, not Earthers."
The man stiffened. "Wait. No. The bet's off—!"
At that moment, Eliana and the elf queen heard the noise.
The queen frowned. "What is going on now?"
Meanwhile, Ziraiah sat up—unaware that all her clothes had burned away.
Eryndor's voice was calm yet firm. "Cover yourself, Ziraiah."
She froze, looked down—then screeched, yanking Eryndor's oversized jacket over herself.
Finally, she turned and saw Valerius, still sprawled out, immobile.
Her heart sank. "Oh my god—Val!"
She scrambled to him, her oversized sleeves flailing as she crouched. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to—!"
Valerius could only stare at her, his face swollen, his mind still reeling.
She broke my neck.
How dare she?
Was this because of that stupid hairbrush?
Then, realization hit.
Wait. How did she get that strong?!
Eryndor knelt beside him, examining the damage. "You are remarkably fortunate, Valerius."
Silvie tilted her head. "Is he… okay?"
Valerius' eyes twitched.
No. No, I am not okay.
---
To Be Continued...