Chapter 352: Chapter 351- Mother and Daughter Duo

The Border of Millbrook

The forest was dense here—ancient oaks with trunks wide as houses, their branches forming a canopy so thick that only scattered shafts of afternoon sunlight penetrated to the mossy ground below.

The air smelled of damp earth and rotting leaves, heavy and humid.

Two figures emerged from the treeline.

The first was a woman in her early forties, though elven aging made it hard to tell. She had the kind of beauty that matured like wine—soft curves that had filled out with motherhood, face still smooth but with laugh lines around her eyes and mouth.

Her hair was long and silver-blonde, braided loosely over one shoulder, strands escaping to frame her face.

She wore a simple green dress that had seen better days. The fabric clung to her body, outlining every curve—massive breasts that strained against the neckline, thick waist, wide hips that swayed with each step, substantial thighs that rubbed together slightly as she walked. The dress was torn in places, stained with dirt and dried blood. Her feet were bare, dirty, bleeding slightly from days of walking.

But her face held hope.

Despite everything—the exhaustion evident in the dark circles under her emerald eyes, the hollowness in her cheeks from hunger—she smiled softly as she stepped into the small clearing at the forest’s edge.

“We made it, Gwen,” she said, her voice gentle and melodic despite its hoarseness. “We’re safe now.”

The second figure was younger—early twenties at most. She was clearly the older woman’s daughter, sharing the same silver-blonde hair (though hers was shorter, cut jaggedly at shoulder length as if done with a hunting knife) and emerald eyes. But where her mother’s face held softness, hers was all sharp angles—high cheekbones, pointed chin, lips pressed into a permanent scowl.

Her body was similarly built—thick, curvy, the kind of figure that would make men stop and stare—but she carried herself differently. Aggressive. Predatory. Her green dress was even more tattered than her mother’s, ripped at the thigh to allow freedom of movement, neckline torn down to expose the upper swell of her substantial breasts.

And she was armed.

A bow was clutched in her left hand, an arrow already nocked. Her right hand trembled slightly as she gripped the string, pulling it back, aiming at nothing in particular.

“Safe?” Gwen’s voice was sharp, angry. “Mother, how can you say we’re safe?”

She released the arrow.

THWACK.

It embedded itself in a nearby tree trunk with enough force to sink three inches deep. The shaft quivered from the impact.

“We were SOLD!” Gwen snarled, reaching back to her quiver for another arrow. “Our own tribe leader—the man who raised us, who we TRUSTED—sold us to fucking slave traders like we were cattle!”

Her mother—Vivian—flinched at the venom in her daughter’s voice but maintained her gentle smile. “Gwen, please—”

“Don’t ’please’ me!” Another arrow nocked. Another pull. “If we hadn’t killed those traders and run, we’d be in chains right now! Do you understand that? CHAINS!”

She loosed the second arrow.

THWACK.

It hit the same tree, inches from the first.

“Being raped by whatever disgusting human paid the highest price!” A third arrow. Her hands were shaking harder now, tears gathering in her eyes. “Used as breeding stock or worse—”

THWACK.

“Gwen.” Vivian’s voice was firmer now, though still soft. She stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on her daughter’s shoulder.

Gwen jerked away, spinning to face her mother. Tears streamed down her face, cutting tracks through the dirt and dried blood that coated her cheeks.

“How can you be so calm?” Gwen’s voice cracked. “How can you smile after everything he did to us? Everything we’ve been through?”

Vivian’s own eyes glistened, but she blinked the tears away. “Because if I don’t stay positive, sweetness, we’ll both drown in despair.”

She reached out again, slower this time. Her hand cupped Gwen’s cheek, thumb brushing away tears.

“Your father wouldn’t want us giving up,” Vivian continued softly. “He died protecting our people. The least we can do is survive.”

Gwen’s face crumpled. She leaned into her mother’s touch, bow lowering. “I just… I want revenge, Mother. I want to make him pay for what he did.”

“I know.” Vivian pulled her daughter into a hug, both of them trembling. “But first, we survive. Then we can think about revenge.”

They stood like that for a long moment, two thick-bodied elven women clinging to each other in a forest clearing, their curves pressed together, both shaking from exhaustion and emotion and starvation.

Finally, Vivian pulled back. “Come. Let’s see where we’ve ended up.”

They moved through the remaining trees, pushing aside low-hanging branches. The forest began to thin, more light filtering through.

And then they stopped.

Before them, maybe a hundred yards away, was a town.

“Where… where are we?” Vivian asked, voice filled with wonder.

Gwen’s eyes narrowed. “Let me check.”

She slung her bow across her back and approached the nearest tree—a massive oak with branches low enough to reach. Her movements were fluid despite her exhaustion, muscle memory from years of hunting taking over.

She jumped, fingers catching bark. Then she climbed.

Vivian watched her daughter ascend, admiring how easily Gwen moved despite everything. The girl had always been athletic, even as a child. Now she scaled the tree like a squirrel, using branches and handholds that wouldn’t support most people’s weight.

Higher. Higher. Until she disappeared into the canopy above.

Vivian waited, anxiety building. The silence of the forest pressed in around her, broken only by distant bird calls and the whisper of wind through leaves.

Then Gwen’s voice drifted down, muffled: “…what the hell?”

“Gwen? What is it?”

A moment later, Gwen descended rapidly, practically falling the last ten feet. She landed in a crouch, breathing hard.

“It’s Lelduria Kingdom,” Gwen said, standing. “The northernmost border. This place is… Mother, it’s incredibly developed.”

“Developed?” Vivian blinked. “But this is supposed to be frontier territory. Barely civilized.”

“I know.” Gwen shook her head, confusion evident. “But I saw shops. Proper buildings. People everywhere. It looks more prosperous than some inner kingdom cities I’ve heard about.”

They approached the forest edge together, stopping just inside the treeline to observe.

The town—Millbrook, according to a worn wooden sign—spread out before them. Cobblestone streets (actual cobblestone, not just dirt paths) wound between well-constructed buildings. Shops with glass windows displayed goods. People walked the streets in clean clothes, talking and laughing.

Children played in a square near what looked like a fountain.

A fountain.

On the kingdom’s northern border.

“This doesn’t make sense,” Gwen muttered.

Then Vivian gasped.

“What?” Gwen followed her mother’s gaze.

There, rising from the town’s center, was a tower.

Massive. Imposing. At least ten stories tall, constructed of dark stone that seemed to drink in the sunlight rather than reflect it. Windows dotted its surface at irregular intervals, some glowing with internal light despite the afternoon hour.

At its peak was… something. A structure Gwen couldn’t quite make out from this distance, but it pulsed with a strange energy that made her skin prickle.

“How did we not see that earlier?” Vivian whispered, voice trembling.

Gwen’s mind raced. “The morphing pendant. When we used it to teleport, it must have… affected our perception somehow. We spent the night in the forest, but we were too exhausted to notice our surroundings properly.”

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