Lindrl had passed an uncomfortable evening. She had patrolled the outside with guards, helping the survivors, searching for the culprits of this destruction. Of course, she knew Silvy had done it, but she was not crazy enough to speak about her. Guards would arrest Silvy, and she would never see her again, have no chance to study her further. And the guards were nowhere close to solving this mystery: they had a drawing of adult Silvy, but no person in the slums knew her; the posters were being distributed in the city, but the difference was too big: the drawing showed an adult woman, and Silvy was a child: maybe you could mistake her for the woman’s daughter, but it was a long shot anyway. Even then, the guards only believed there was a connection between this woman and the event: if she had so much power to annihilate half of the slums, why would she let go some thugs?

Of course, Lindrl gave them no help, instead actively bringing them on the wrong trail: she would protect Silvy as much as she could.

But patrolling around had given her the time to reflect deeper on Silvy’s past; the girl had been sleeping the whole day as well. Was that a drawback of using such power? The “whole” state she had talked about? It was a real possibility. But that was not what had preoccupied Lindrl.

She had kept going back thinking about the brother and the scope of it. The first possibility, the most unlikely, was that Silvy was a complete accident. That was ridiculous: people had contacts with monsters every day, and nothing of like that had ever happened. No, it was so improbable it was impossible.

The second possibility was Silvy being deliberately created. But that brought forth another set of questions: why was she free to go around? Was she a failure, and if she was, how powerful were the correct ones? Or maybe they thought she was a failure and let her go? How did they even make a mistake like that? And what was their objective? Overthrow the empire? Who had organized something like this?

Alright, analyze one thing at a time. First, the location. They had chosen the slums: a good place, easy to hide, easy to defend, and if anything went wrong, feign ignorance. But guards were not blind: if they were creating monster-human hybrids, people were going missing: the head of this operation would need control over the guards or the army, so a high-ranking official was needed. But creating such powerful soldiers would be costly: the cores, equipment, secrecy: deep pockets were needed. So, that left the general of the army in Chilog; the captain of the guard would not have enough budget. Or, of course, someone in a higher position, able to control the general. After that, you needed subjects and monster cores; you needed someone who knew a lot about both. A [Healer], maybe a high priest, and a powerful [Enchanter]. Would a general be able to order the necessary people around? Maybe, but not high-rank ones if he wanted secrecy. And, of course, you wanted [Mages] in the operation: magic could help make the impossible, possible. But here came the scariest part: she had never heard anything about it. No one had approached her, and she had no information, not even rumors, about what was going on. Her information network was not the best in the world, true, but even they wouldn’t miss such details. That left two possibilities: the culprit had an incredible espionage knowledge, able to do anything undetected, or her informants had been bought. Both possibilities were terrifying: a general wouldn’t have the means to do such a thing. No, someone higher: not a simple noble family either, but a high ranked one. The culprit was one of the six high noble families or the royalty itself: maybe all of them or a group of them.

The six noble families: the ones with most power and most trusted by the royalty. The current royal family had overthrown the previous one around two centuries ago, and the six families had played a key role in their victory; they had been rewarded for their help, becoming the most trusted advisors with power second only to royalty.

Only this group could have a spy network so deep and vast that they could control or mislead her. But did they know Silvy was an escapee? And if they did, why not make a move?

Lindrl was walking up and down her study, trying to piece together everything. Their spies would be useless in this case: indeed, she might already be watched herself, as she had made questions about the brothel.

The pieces fell into place: they had not contacted her, one of the best mages on the continent; no, they didn’t because why stop to one of the best, if you could have help from the best? Kal was involved; if he wasn’t, then Gorvan was; he or the other, or both. No, both was strange; if they hired two [Archmages], why not three? How much did they know about Silvy? Did Lindrl herself get in the middle of their plans? Doesn’t matter: they both had to run from the city. But if the king was the one behind this experiment, then it would most likely be carried out in more than one location. But this was a secret plan, then other cities would be safer. Should she contact the king? Or contact the royal members here in Chilog? Should she run away with Silvy?

So many questions and not a definitive answer.

------

Confusion assaulted Silvy for the last hours. Dreams came and go, muddling her thoughts, squishing her mind. Nothing had sense anymore: only fatigue was always there, ready to bring her back to sleep the moment she woke up.

Silvy didn’t know, but she had slept for an entire day. The night was deep when a figure entered her room through the window, invisible to normal eyes. The figure scanned the room for danger, approaching Silvy. She was breathing heavily, turning into her bed, victim of another nightmare. The figure didn’t question his orders and took out a pin with a crystal attached to the end. He punctured Silvy’s forehead, spilling a bead of blood: this was not supposed to happen. The crystal lit up with a black light, baffling the figure: this was not what he was told to expect.

He took out a syringe, locking Silvy’s arm in place and drawing blood out. It flowed forth, filling the syringe, dark red as every normal human being. But this was not supposed to happen: undead lost their liquids fast and even the crystal showed a normal human being. No matter: it was not his task to think about the implications: his task was to check her with the crystal and take a sample if possible.

The figure shook his head making his tools disappear in a bag to his side. He covered and cleaned Silvy again, eliminating every trace of his passage: he was trained and only one of his peers would have a chance to spot something wrong. He walked out of the window, disappearing into the night like a shadow.

Silvy had been sleeping all the time, dreaming about giant mosquitoes pinching and stinging her body, so many that she couldn’t move her arm: it was just a nightmare followed by another right after and forgotten in the myriad of hallucinations.

…..

Silvy opened her eyes, feeling better than before. She was still weak and groggy, but she wanted to get up and outside. She had to move, to eat; and to pee. So many sensations almost forgotten had come back; it was discomforting. But she had lived with them for years, nothing strange in having them back.

‘Core? Can you hear me?’

She tried to reach her core. She could remember more clearly what had happened: she didn’t feel confused anymore. Memories were still missing, but she had managed to put some pieces in order. How much time had passed?

Opening her window, she could see it was late morning. She dressed and went downstairs, supporting herself with the wall. She was in the Dry Ducks Inn, and a few people were around, eating and drinking, the innkeeper helping out her various waitresses or speaking to customers. Silvy wanted to walk around: eating and peeing could wait. She went outside, followed by the eyes of the innkeeper.

Silvy walked slowly through the crowd, staying to the side, trying to not be in the way. People were moving about with uncertainty; you could feel, see the tension. Eyes darting around, steps faster than normal, distrusts on their faces. Silvy kept her head low, trying to not attract attention. What was she going to do? She had killed thousands of innocents. What should she even do…

Without realizing it, she arrived in front of ‘Stitch and patches’, the store where she had bought her clothes. Why was she here? The woman inside…

Silvy walked in, finding it empty. A small bell rang when she opened the door and a voice responded from the back.

“I’m coming!”

The middle-aged woman, owner of the shop, appeared from the back door. She had no similarity to her mother: she was fatter, her hairs were blonde and not black, her eyes were brown and not blue. Even her face was had no similarities. And yet, Silvy still couldn’t forget the moment she had seen her mother knitting.

“Oh, hi Missy! I thought something had happened to you! You didn’t pass by to take your clothes yesterday.”

Yesterday? Had she… slept for an entire day? Right, find an excuse…

“Sorry, I didn’t want to go around with what had happened. Today seemed quieter, so I took the chance.”

“Yes, I wasn’t sure about opening my shop either, but hey, it keeps me going. Right, wait here, I’ll bring out your order: you’ll love it.”

She went to the back of the store, coming out with brown leather clothes. It was a complete set: pants, underwear, shirt, and socks.

“I can dye them if you don’t like the color: you didn’t express a preference, so I left them like this. Want to try them out?”

The woman was smiling, pointing at the back of the store. Silvy accepted the offer: why not? She wanted to try them out anyway.

The clothes were incredible: they felt like a second skin, with little to no weight. The size was perfect, adapting to her body flawlessly. She was a bit embarrassed and had to check a few times to make sure she was clothed: she could hardly feel them on.

She moved around a bit, testing them out. That was when she realized something: her body was moving… differently. She had not realized it before: her movements were not… perfect anymore. She tried a few moves, just for a test: they were worse than before; she was still good, thanks to her class, but even simple pirouette was harder than before: her sense of balance was different. Was this a consequence of being without the cores?

That was scary: she felt vulnerable, helpless. The cores had helped her in so many ways, but they were not here anymore. She was back to being a simple child; with some levels to her name, but nothing more than that. What about her magic? Her mana, that before responded with no difficulties, hardly moved. Forget about the lines she had made without the wand: she couldn’t even move mana outside her body, just like she had never been able to before her kidnapping. She was so useless…

“How are the clothes? Do they fit?”

The woman, whose name Silvy didn’t know or remember, was looking over Silvy.

“They are perfect. Thank you.”

“Do you want them of another color? I think blue, black or red would be great on you. Brown is too… neutral. What do you say? Just another gold piece.”

She winked at Silvy, who had just recalled she had no money: luckily, she had already paid for the order.

“No, thanks. Maybe later; I want to walk around in them now.”

Silvy walked to the door but stopped before it. Why had she come to this store anyway? She had barely remembered the clothes. She wanted… what?

“Hey, uhm, I never got your name… I’m Silvy.”

“Pleasure to meet you little Silvy. I am Tervisa.”

“About what happened yesterday… what do you know?”

“I know it was a massacre: half of the slums have been destroyed. Poor people. I’ve heard people talking about elves, but is it war then? They would be breaking the treaty…”

Silvy had no memory of the war against the elves. She knew it had ended around twenty years ago, with elves renouncing to their lost land.

“Can you tell me about the war? Mother never talked about it…”

Tervisa sat down, inviting Silvy over.

“I can tell you what I know, but I am no historian. You do know humans come from Grumira, the continent west from here, right?”

Silvy nodded. She had heard about it: the seat of power, the capital of the human empire was on another continent, named Grumira. She had heard it took a month for a normal ship to reach; it was really far.

“Well, our previous king had big plans for the empire, and he wanted to expand it. So, he sent the army first north, landing in the continent named Orune. A race we call Giants lives there; I heard they are as high as houses and swing trees as weapons. But it’s probably an exaggeration.”

“Giants? I’ve never heard of them.”

“We found them for the first time on that continent. Well, big as houses or not, our campaign in their lands was short-lived: they won on every front, forcing us humans to retreat back to our continent. But the king was not finished: he sent ships east, finding Ivirill, the continent on which we live right now. The elves lived here in tribes. Alas, our military power was superior, and we drove them farther and farther east until we reached the forest: the same forest east of our city. The story told by our empire goes that we left them there because of our compassionate king, but I say it’s bull- a lie. The forest cannot be cut or burnt down, regrowing the trees in a single day or two. And I heard from soldiers that elves are good at skirmishing, which means you hit a target and then run away. Combine these two factors and even an idiot can see we couldn’t push our advance any further. So, twenty years ago our empire celebrated our “victory” against the elves and built the various cities along the border to keep them in check. But why didn’t your mother tell you about it? Where is she anyway?”

“Oh- I… She is… not here anymore. I’m alone. Thank you for telling me…”

“I’m so sorry!”

Tervisa suddenly hugged Silvy, taking her by surprise.

“It happened many years ago, don’t worry-”

Silvy words were then suffocated by the embrace.

“I’m sorry! Are you able to live by yourself? You know, I could use some help here. I’m all alone, and more hands are welcome…”

For a moment, a single long moment, Silvy wanted to say yes. Forgetting everything, living a normal life knitting clothes; maybe become a famous seamstress or maybe find a husband when she had grown up; maybe having some kids…

No. She would not give up: she could not give up. Cores or not, she would eliminate the brothel, taking back what they had taken. And if her memory was right, the cores had just broken a bit and had told her they would repair themselves. This situation was temporary: she would be an undead again soon enough.

She extricated from the embrace, answering Tervisa.

“Thank you, but I am an adventurer: I can handle myself. But I will keep your offer in mind if you are alright with it…”

“Of course, dear. You shouldn’t be an adventurer: it’s dangerous. This is a frontier city, yes, but we have the army protecting us, together with the walls. As long as you stay inside, you are safe. I just hope there won’t be another war against the elves.”

Tervisa looked uncomfortable, scared.

“Do you hate the elves?”

“Hate? Well… my brother died in the war: he was a soldier. But many others died, and I’m sure many elves died as well. Years have passed… I wouldn’t be happy to see one, but I wouldn’t try to kill him either.”

Silvy thought about her heritage; her long hair hid her ears and with them her elven heritage. People hated half-elves, considering them impure.

“What about half-elves?”

Tervisa’s face changed suddenly, from thoughtful to disgust.

“They are an abomination. The union between a human and an elf… It goes against the teaching of Adriar himself.”

The words hit Silvy like a mountain. An abomination… against a god's will… Why was her own birth something wrong? She did not decide to be a half-elf…

“Fortunately, they are really rare. There aren’t many humans who fall for elves and vice versa. That doesn’t mean we should let them live: Adriar never said we should kill them, but his words hint to it, don’t you think?”

“I- yes, you are right. Sorry, I have to go now.”

Silvy almost ran out of the store, leaving a dumbfounded Tervisa behind. Tears were threatening to fall; she rushed to the closest bathroom, closing herself in the stall, crying her heart out.

‘Even her… Everyone hates me… Maybe I should just die…’

No one answered her thoughts. Both cores were busy repairing themselves, trying to not die; they had no spare energy to answer or even listen to Silvy.

No! That was wrong! She felt rage feeling her. Why did she have to die for them?! A god told those things?! There were other gods anyway; every beastkin race had one, and probably elves as well. If every race had a god, then the half-elves had one as well, right?! She just had to find him, speak to him. They were usually silent, but sometimes they spoke to the [High Priests]; maybe a god would talk to her? Help her?

How would you go about it? There were churches for Adriar in the human cities; she knew there was similar stuff for beastkins. But she had never heard about a half-elven god. The library maybe?

She wiped her tears, did her business and got out of the stall. She would go to the library and find out the half-elven god; she made a quick stop to the inn, leaving the old clothes inside her room.

The mages' guild was half-empty as always; she still was not sure why. The library was in the same place and she got in without problems.

This time a young guy was speaking to the construct, asking for a book about fire magic. The construct efficiently listed several books that discussed the argument, looking at Silvy after that, now alone in the room.

“Young Silvy. I remember you. May I inquire about what kind of accident has befallen your mana? I will direct you to a solution if you tell me what spell went wrong. To deal such damage… an intermediate spell I would venture.”

“What? No, it was not a spell. I’m not here for that either… although I might come back to it. No, I’m looking for books about gods; is there a half-elven god? How do you reach him?”

Light passed through the eyes of the construct, so fast Silvy thought she imagined it.

“A half-elven god? I am sorry, I have no record. Would you like to read about the powers of a god? We have several studies on them…”

There was no half-elven god. This was a joke, right? Every race had one. Why not them?! What had they done wrong?! Silvy had killed many people, yes, but her actions had nothing to do with her race.

“Why is there no half-elven god? Did they never found it? Did it never manifest?!”

She was angry and lost. Mostly lost; anger was the only thing keeping her functioning.

“I can direct you to books studying the origins of gods. Here, a list…”

“Tell me why! I don’t want to read books!”

Without realizing it, Silvy had grabbed the shirt of the construct. She realized too late it was a big mistake. She found herself laying outside, staring up at the sky. How had she arrived here? Where was here?

She sat up; she was just outside the library. Her head pulsed; she reached up to it, feeling a small swelling on it. Had she been knocked out?!

Silvy took a big breath, trying to keep her rage in check. It hadn’t helped her, unsurprisingly.

If this library had no information about a half-elven god… maybe there was a community of her kind somewhere? But where? She had never heard about something like that…

Who else could help her but Lindrl?

She searched for the tower that Lindrl had mentioned. It wasn’t hard to locate: it was the highest building in the guild. To the left and right, connected to the tower, were two big buildings.

Silvy was trying to understand which one was where Lindrl resided when Deala, Lindrl’s secretary or something similar, came out from the left building, directed towards Silvy, who met her midway.

“[Archmage] Lindrl will receive you. Come with me.”

Deala went through the building, reaching a big room on the second floor. She opened the door, bowed to Lindrl, and left. Lindrl was sitting on a couch, waiting for Silvy. She waved to another couch in front of her, where Silvy sat.

“Hi, Silvy. Here for our lesson? I’m not sure it’s a good idea with your mana like that.”

“No- well, I had a question. Is there a god for half-elves? The librarian said there was no god, but why is that?”

Lindrl sipped her tea while listening.

“A god for half-elves? I’ve never heard of one. And why is that… I have no idea. [Mages] are interested in gods only because of their power; if you would like to know more about their workings, you should ask a priest. Why do you ask?”

Silvy fidgeted, not sure how to put it.

“Well, you see… People hate half-elves because Adriar says that they are an abomination, right? But I thought… What does the god of the half-elves think about that? But if there is no god for us…”

Lindrl put down her cup, relaxing on her couch and crossing her legs.

“People believe in the words of a god because they think they are all-powerful, all-knowing entities who are never wrong. [Archmages] think differently: he is not all-powerful nor all-knowing. He is extremely powerful indeed, but he uses mana to create miracles, just like mages. Only, he uses it in ways we cannot understand, probably with spells even more complexes than the one we call advanced. My opinion, and the one of Kal and Gorvan, and many other [Archmages] as well, is that a god is nothing else than an incredibly powerful [Archmage]. Can a human reach his level? Probably not. But many think a god is not infallible; that is why many mages take what a god says with a grain of salt. Just ignore what Adriar says is what I mean: I do it all the time, and it’s not like he smites me.”

Silvy opened her mouth wide. She had never heard someone talk like that about gods!

“Wha- that’s…”

She had no words to reply. The very idea of ignoring the teaching of a god was crazy, absurd. After all, they were gods! They could punish you! Or not?

“Are you sure he won’t punish you?”

“No god has ever punished someone for their belief. You are free to go against him as much as you want. But most people don’t because of several reasons, an important one being the fact that priests working in god’s name heal people: [Healers]. Well, gods are strong, but being strong doesn’t mean being always in the right. So? Did you forget your sadness?”

Silvy sniffled a bit, feeling just a little better. She hadn’t even thought about going against the words of a god; how could you? But Lindrl was speaking of it as if it was the simplest thing…

Lindrl clapped her hands, bringing Silvy’s attention back to her.

“Now, you are here. This room is protected against pretty much every level of scrying, so we can talk freely. Tell me: how did you become an adult? How long did it take? It is so unbelievable…”

“That? I… I just wished about growing up, and it… just happened. How long? I don’t know… a few minutes maybe?...”

“And you don’t even realize how incredible that is. You know, I’ll come clean: I am no expert in shapeshifting. Hell, the only experts of shapeshifting are the Chameleon-kin. Maybe they can do something like that, but I wouldn’t be so sure. Did you try to go back? Becoming younger? Did it work?”

“Younger? No… I just tried to become smaller, but it was harder than growing up… but no, not younger.”

Lindrl sighed.

“How can you handle the pain? Ah, just another advantage of being undead I guess. Changing your body so much is painful. See my nose? I made it smaller than it was. I tell you, it was torture, and it took a long time to do so. The faster you change, the higher the pain. But you don’t feel it, right? That’s another reason why you can change so fast.”

Silvy had never thought about that. Indeed, wasn’t changing your body the same as breaking your bones? No, even worse; you’d change bones, muscles, fat; every part would be rearranged, and to do it, it would break. She felt a shiver running down her spine; what if she had lost the cores before changing back?

“Did you remember anything else from yesterday?”

“Mmh… My cores broke. And-”

“You- what?!”

Lindrl shot up, horrified.

“Did you lose your power? What will happen now?! Do you know? I thought it was just a temporary loss of power!”

Silvy tried to calm her down.

“Well, they are repairing right now. They will come back… I hope. I can’t feel anything right now; my mana doesn’t respond like before.”

“So, you're telling me you are a normal child right now? Interesting. How much did you lose? Want to try out some spells? To know what a normal human feels when using mana without a focus?”

Well, Silvy had dreamt of using magic years ago, but never had the chance to learn it. But she could already feel mana not responding like it used to.

“Well, it’s already not answering me like it used to… I doubt I could do anything with it.”

Lindrl laughed gently.

“Indeed, you wouldn’t be able to form a single line, never mind a rune. Do you have a wand? Here, take this one.”

Lindrl passed her a simple wand, very similar to the one she had bought.

“This is a decent one for a beginner; I used it in my youth. Try to make a line, go on.”

Silvy took the wand and concentrated on using her mana. It felt much easier indeed: she created a line with no difficulty. But Lindrl stopped her immediately.

“No, no. You are doing it wrong as always: you are still using your internal mana to create the line. You need to guide the external mana with your internal one. Try it: order your mana to control the mana in the air so that a line is formed; the less mana is taken from your pool, the better.”

Silvy tried just that. Using the wand made moving around the mana much easier, but still nowhere close to how easy it was with the core. She ordered her mana to control the external mana: it felt like trying to guide around a lazy and disobedient dog, who wanted to do what he wished for or nothing at all. She had to tear it out of its flow to insert it into her own line; and even when she did, one lapse in concentration and the mana would flow out, returning to his own devices.

Without realizing it, Silvy passed fifteen minutes trying to form a line with external mana: she did it in the end, but it was made almost totally of her own mana, with only a tiny part of external one; she was sweating and her mind was tired.

“Sorry, but seeing you like this… you have an average, no, probably below-average aptitude for magic. I don’t know your level, but an average person can do something better after a few tries… you cast an advanced spell, and yet… Well, as long as your cores come back, you’ll be back to full strength, right? Just keep training yourself like this: I’ll give you some advice in the meantime. For one, trying to wrestle mana to do something you wish is not a good idea…”

Lindrl taught Silvy how to use the least possible mana in the creation of the rune: the less mana you used, the more runes you could create, meaning more spell going out. Silvy barely made any progress; it was embarrassing. But at least she had to eat and drink; Deala came at noon, bringing some tasty food. Silvy was so happy to taste again: if there was something she didn’t like about being undead was the missing taste of food.

After lunch, Lindrl had to go patrolling with the guards; the situation was still tense, but most likely tomorrow would be the last day they would ask her help. Silvy was left in the study, training by herself. She had to stop after every try; Lindrl had told her that in the beginning your mind was not used to spellcasting, so a fifteen minutes pause between each try was necessary.

Silvy used those pauses to look around the room or just relaxing. It was a cozy room: the couches were on the right of the entrance; a small fireplace with no flame was next to them. A small table was in the middle of them, with a couple of cups on it, now emptied of tea. To the left of the room were some paintings while in the center was a large desk with a chair behind it. In the right back corner from the entrance was a bookcase: some books were in it, but magical equipment dominated it; the items were behind glass, locked away: various necklaces, bracelets, wands, even a tunic were there. In the left corner, a door led to another room, but Silvy didn’t want to intrude. Light was coming from the opened windows, one behind the desk and another next to the fireplace, and the chandelier hanging in the middle of the room.

The afternoon passed uneventfully, with Silvy trying hard in her endeavors. In the evening Lindrl came back, and Silvy went back to the inn after having dinner with her, as Jekhum lessons had finished.