"Cough! My dear sister is grag us with her presence?" Shorof queried her dy in waiting, her speech almost drowned out by a symphony of coughs.

  "Yhness, just stay put. She'll make her way to you iime… soon…"

  "Oh, 'soon,' you say? Usually, she dashes straight to me upon her return. Where oh has Mother whisked her off to now? Cough! Cough!" Shorof attempted to rise, her voice feeble. "Getting scolded again, is she...?"

  "Yhness..."

  Despite her attendants' efforts to keep her in her room, Shorof persisted in her quest to seek out her sister. She was well aware of Nahwu's pent for ing chaos. The trouble she had stirred within the elven unity’s youngsters by instilling them with humanistic ideals had caused quite the stir.

  But, of course, why wouldn't she fall ill at a time like this?

  If only Shorof could bahe winds of transformation ushered in by her sister and the unyielding grip of tradition within the elven unity...

  Approag the grand hall, Shorof let out a fit of cough, teetering until her loyal servants swooped in to hold her steady. Even they seemed to quiver with nerves as they approached the imposing closed doors of the hall, the tension in the air so thick it could be cut with a knife.

  “W-who…” Shorof mused aloud.

  Turning to the guard elves fnking the door, their faces drained of color, she raised an eyebrow expetly. With solemn expressions, they simply shook their heads, a clear warning in their eyes.

  “Don’t tell me—” Shorof lunged forward to push open the doors, announg herself, "Shorof, Princess of the Green is present! Your Majesty, what’s—”

  Her words caught ihroat. A gasp escaped her lips as she beheld the assembly before her.

  Five revered elders, a sight as rare as a uni sighting, sat in judgment, their gazes pierg. Two figures k before them: her fiery sister, Nahwu, and a human boy—

  But it was another presehat truly made Shorof's heart skip a beat.

  Her Holiness, the inal Saint.

  The elves had their oh-so-fwless looks that could make even merfolks feel a tinge of jealousy.

  The High Elves arrogantly strutted around with their slim this, tall that, and noses seemingly reag for the stars. Wood Elves, the athletich, all tanned and freckled like perfectly toasted, sweet, sweet marshmallows, rog fiery red hair and eyes that could give you a sun-irance.

  A’s talk about those Dark Elves. Dark, dark skin blending with shadows, light hair shining through like a rebellious bea. When sunlight hits, their light yellow eyes would steal the show like a dramatic vilin in a py.

  Then you had the Sun Elves and Moon Elves, por opposites in the aesthetics department. Sun Elves, all golden and muscur, while Moon Elves rocked the purplish skin and subtle curves. It was like a ic showdown of hotness.

  But pared to the one in the power seat? A walking tradi, oozing perfe like it was no big deal. Sharp yet gentle, bold yet curvy – talk about keeping people ooes. She looked like she could make fear itself cower in a er, yet a hint of tenderness lurks beh the surface.

  After all, it was hard to imagihat beauty to be so harsh, or bad, or evil.

  Make no mistake.

  Just when you thought you had got her figured out, that smile vanishes and suddenly you were sidering a heartfelt khose lofty eyebrows twitch, and you could practically hear your own tears welling up. And when those eyes narrow, fet ego – it was on a one-way trip to another dimension.

  Once. Only once did Shorof catch a glimpse of her visage. It was when she was little, some decades ago. The impression she had of her then was unfettable, just like her impossible-tet presence.

  So the trembling trees a while ago were her doing.

  "Y-Your Holiness…"

  She dropped to her knees.

  Despite her frail body, she made the effort to maneuver her sister behind her, presenting herself to the elders and the Holiness while suppressing her coughs.

  "I admit my grave mistake. It was clearly my ht to allow the younger geion to stray. My failure to guide them with the subtleties of i is entirely my own. I shall speak with them promptly and arrange a meeting for discussion," Shorof hazarded a guess.

  The presence of the Holiness sighat the issue indeed y in their iions with humans, firming her suspis.

  "Tasha, thy daughter doth show remarkable a," remarked the fair-haired saint. "As for the other, though possessed of intelligence, she doth seem more naive, driven by ambition."

  "Verily, Princess Shorof. If thou dost cim to hold the solution to the elves' youthful plight, then, by all means, proceed," the saint's melodious voice resounded with grad elegance.

  "Your Holiness, if I may interject, my sister is unwell! Will you be f her to work in this dition?" Nahwu burst out. With an angry frown, she sarcastically hissed, "Oh, how passionate of you..."

  "Nahwu!" Tashr's sharp reprimand cut through the tension.

  Tashr turan, her eyes flicted.

  “How nostalgic. Wert thou as fiery in thy youth?” Man smiled warmly at the queen.

  “Five me, Your Holiness. We, mere creations of God, must aowledge our imperfes. We offer no excuses,” Tashr bowed her head humbly.

  Seeing how no one could even hold a dle against the illustrious figure and fag the critical gaze of the five elders, Nahwu nervously nibbled on her bottom lip, unaced to such treatment. Not even the pompous human politis dared to dispy such arrogance!

  "Why?" Man's sudden inquiry, like a bde fed in ire, did pierce the tense air that sought shelter within the hallowed chambers.

  "A scold doth oft bestow wisdom, dost thou not cur? Just yesternight, I presumed to chide my lordly spouse, my husband, shedding tears i. A pathetic spectacle, ihou st not prehend."

  The five elders and the queen, as if caught in a tempest's fierce gaze, turheir faces toward her, struck silent with astonishment, their mouths agape like the gates of a castle under siege.

  "And how should I, as his equal partner bound by the selfsame cursed twist of destiny, feign ignorance of a dark deed enacted some fifteen or sixteen cycles past? A deed wherein he did trahe sacred sanctity of life by ying loartaking of two se souls: a uni and a merfolk," Man divulged sarcastically.

  Huh?

  Hus… band?

  "I hearest thou hast disclosed unto the masses this slight transgression of mine husband, Princess Nahwu," inquired Man. "Pray tell me, hast thou indeed done so?"

  There was only one man to whom she could refer. The human tyrant who started the war, rumored to have killed aen a uni, and the king of the merfolk: The Holiness, the inal Saint, was his wife?!

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  I twisted my brain trying to write this. Man's going to actally ent something with her shakespearean tongue :'v