Chapter 227: Graves

A/N: HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONEEE! Thank you for your consistent support, and may everyone have a blessed 2026~!

Also, sorry for the 1 Chapter again today T_T. New Year Prep and forced-socializations are killing me.

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Later that night, Sylwen knocked on her nephew’s door to check up on him. She opened it when she heard his voice and saw him looking out the window, dazed.

They were set to leave the next day. She had no attachment to this place, but the little elf had been here for nearly a year. Moreover, this was a place that literally saved his life.

Even if he had a neutral expression on his face and even if he wanted to go home, his heart must still be a little sad to say goodbye.

Syl sighed, walking past the threshold and sitting next to him. “Are you reluctant to go?

“We can ask your father if you want to visit,” she said. “I’m sure you’d be allowed once a year or so.”

“It’s not that…” he said after a while of silence. His gem-like eyes stared out, staying over a nearby hill and its dense forest.

“My mother died near there,” he said, pointing at the forest area just beyond the walls.

“What?”

Syl’s heart clenched. Her sister-in-law was so close…

“Can we visit her grave before we go?” His voice was flat, and his expression impassive, but Syl could tell his heart was hurting.

Sylwen leaned down and embraced the little elf, hoping to bring even a bit of comfort.

“Of course,” she said. “We will visit your mother tomorrow. And we will bring her favorite flower, as well.”

…

They left about an hour after dawn, and after eating breakfast with the royal family.

Before leaving, the King asked to speak with her alone. While their caravan prepared the carriages (Claire and the Queen prepared a lot of goods and supplies to make their journey more comfortable), the King and Syl looked over them as they talked.

“Are you familiar with who creates the beast taming runes?” he asked. Syl’s eyebrows rose. “I do know of that clan, but…they’re part of the fallen faction.”

That was to say, people who sided with her second brother.

In most instances, Syl wouldn’t ask for more, and she’d just leave after the conversation was over. If he wasn’t saying it himself, then normally Syl wouldn’t ask either. She was just not talkative or nosy enough.

However, this seemed to be related to the enemy faction, so she wanted to hear more about it.

The King sighed. “It seems like they have planted some influence amongst some noble families,” he said. “And I am unsure of what they are planning.

“For now, keep your eyes open.”

…

Their party was sent off by the princess and the prince all the way to the gates. They were all in carriages, but it felt like the royal carriage—one that had the emblem and flag—was escorting a strange, unmarked carriage.

This caused a lot of stares. After all, people were curious as to who’d warrant such treatment.

When they saw beautiful elves, they couldn’t help but gape.

To call them beautiful was an understatement. The people witnessing so many elves in one picture would remember the picture for a long time.

Then they looked at their princess and the prince, and their hearts warmed. They were quite fond of the royals, and they just lifted the mood whenever they appeared.

Interestingly, the crown prince’s face was… bloated. It was like he cried the whole night.

Princess Claire chuckled and gently nudged her brother forward. The boy stood in front of his friend. “You will write to me, okay?”

“Hmm.” Athie nodded, voice gentle, making the adults smile.

It seemed like the crown princes had formed a friendship of sorts. One hyperactive, and one seeming to be tired of nonsense, but still a very sincere friendship. It was very cute.

Princess Claire, on the other hand, stepped forward to say goodbye to Sylwen.

The golden-haired lady held her hand. “I am glad to have met you. Your stories about the elf lands are so fascinating. I wish I could travel, too.”

“You can,” Syl said. “If you hope to visit, do tell me, I will guide you.”

Claire giggled. “I’ll look forward to it.”

The elves then entered their carriages, though they took a short detour to see her sister-in-law’s grave. The forests in the safe zones were relatively dense, and the carriages had to stop at some point.

Sylwen and Athisar went on foot, with them bringing flowers (Syl indeed had her sister-in-law’s favorite flower, the ispedana flower, in her space) to place in the grave.

The tombstone was marble now, changed by the Queen a long time ago, which was the only comfort because the body had to stay where it was.

In Elf culture, once the body has been buried, it shall not be taken back. Once buried, the process of absorption—the return to the land—had already begun, and cutting it midway was endangering their reincarnation.

So, even if they wanted to exhumate her sister-in-law’s body, they could not until they found an elven shaman to purify it, to safely ’pause’ the process of absorption.

For now, this was all they could do.

The two of them sat by her grave, improving it, all while their thoughts lingered to memories of her.

Her sister-in-law’s name was Elaryn. She was a beautiful woman with pastel blue hair, a kind smile, and a good heart.

She was the one who, whenever Syl would slowly succumb to the bitterness, would take her back and make her see she was not alone.

To Syl, in the absence of feminine gentleness in her life, Elaryn was her light. Her heart broke whenever she thought that such a good soul was taken from them so early.

She felt like this. She could not imagine what it was like for the young boy who lost his mother so early.

She looked down at the flowers in their hands. The two of them had beautiful bouquets. Other than the ispedana plant, they also arranged for other plants that fit well with it, creating a gorgeous flower arrangement.

Elves had always had an affinity with nature and beauty, and flower arrangements were as easy as walking for them.

Syl waved her hand over the flowers, surrounding them with a special energy, as if coating them.

Athie blinked and looked at her, wondering what spell that was. “With this, these flowers will last for years, maybe forever if you keep thinking of your mum.”

“Really?”

Sylwen smiled. In fact, this was just a preservation spell, and the child probably knew of it, but they would believe what they wanted to believe.

She looked at the young boy who now didn’t have a mother. The role Elaryn had for her, Syl wanted to do for her nephew.

She patted his head, voice warm and gentle. “Tell her everything you want to say. I will wait patiently. Auntie will always be with you.”

…

Athie indeed told his mother everything. How he was thankful that she was his mother, how he missed her, and the promises of becoming the type of elf she would’ve been proud of.

Syl listened well, remembering and also memorizing things that might be important when raising the boy. However, at some point, Syl’s instincts flared.

“Watch out!” She gasped, pulling her nephew to her as she avoided a flaming ball that targeted their backs.

It was large and would definitely hurt, especially Athie, whose level wasn’t very high yet!

She was not able to absorb things yet when half a dozen people surrounded her, all of whom were part of her entourage. Her heart clenched, and she glared at the man leading their delegation.

“ELUNAR! What are you doing?” she asked. This man… was one of her brother’s advisors! How could he—

This was not the time to try to figure out what went wrong or what was going on in their heads.

She summoned massive amounts of mana, and suddenly, the nearby surroundings turned cold.

The area immediately became winter, freezing many to their knees, and if they had been weaker, they would’ve been completely frozen.

Syl took this chance to bolt, holding her nephew in her arms, attempting to get as far away from them as possible.

The elves gasped, shocked by her decisiveness and ability.

“THAT WOMAN!” Elunar yelled, immediately lunging, ordering the others to do the same. “She had been hiding her strength, after all!”

She raised her hand and a shield created with ice surrounded them, stopping the enemies’ immediate attacks. They cursed and did not falter, continuously sending their attacks, whether it was physical skills or magical projectiles.

These people were all around the same level as she was. The fact that she could last so many hits was already impressive. Syl was using up her mana to repair the ice and close the cracks, her heart palpitating in nervousness.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked. “The rebellion is over! The King has won! That bastard is dead!”

While attacking, Elunar laughed. “Do you think that the true king is dead?”

Her eyes widened, and she shook, and this caused her to falter, allowing more and more cracks to form around her shield.

Syl did not understand. She had stabbed that man’s heart herself! She should’ve burned it and watched it turn to ashes in front of her own eyes.

But she was surrounded, and she was no martyr who would sacrifice her life just to watch her brother turn to dust.

It seemed like she had made a mistake this time.

Syl’s red eyes were cold, as if unaffected by the elongating cracks around her. She did not even flinch when it shattered like glass, the shrapnel heading in her direction, though they all dispersed like soft snow when it neared her.

Magic surrounded them again, and the immense power caused the surroundings to shift, and her hair to float, the remaining shrapnels protectively surrounding her and her nephew.

Her red eyes traced over the traitors, inexplicably causing them to shiver a bit.

She was determined: None of these people shall make it back alive!

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