Chapter 31: The boy will be our spy
The room fell silent as Sigora’s mind raced with the implications of using her nephew. She glared at Korreth, thinking he may have deliberately done this.
The suggestion sparked immediate debate.
It was true; Jorghan looked more like a human than an elf, though he was half elf and half human.
Sigora’s objection was swift and fierce.
"Absolutely not. The child has already endured enough—"
"That human child," Korreth interrupted, "is an outsider and has been staying at the mercy of our hospitality for far too long. It is time he proves his worth to us."
The tension in the room was palpable as Sigora’s anger rose by the second.
"You would send an eleven-year-old boy into what could be a trap?" Sigora’s voice rose, her careful composure finally cracking.
"Use him as a spy against people who we know nothing of."
"I would use every resource available to protect this clan," Korreth replied coldly.
"Including resources that chose to make themselves available by returning to us."
The circle fell silent, though all of them were already thinking of sending the boy.
"Bring the boy," No’tra said.
"No, I won’t allow this," Sigora said.
No’tra narrowed his eyes and said to her, "Sigora, if you stand in the way, then you will have to leave the isles."
"You know well enough how we all looked sideways when you brought the boy. No one objected to you when you said you would raise him on this isles."
Sigora bit her lip, oppressing herself. She could take Jorghan and leave but if all of the elders were come after her, she can’t beat them all.
And a while later, they brought him, and as soon as he entered, he could feel the gaze of everyone present in the hall.
He looked at Sigora and noticed her strained expression. Then he looked at the people again.
He could tell something was wrong.
Then No’tra told him briefly, and now he understood why Sigora seemed angry. She was barely containing herself.
He couldn’t see her being helpless; he breathed in and said, "Okay, I will go."
"What?" Sigora was the first one to react.
"I will do it."
Judging by the atmosphere in the hall, he could slightly guess what happened here. It was just a logical conclusion. He didn’t want to put his aunt in a tough position because of him.
Sigora’s face went pale.
"Jorghan, no."
"I understand them better than anyone here," he replied, meeting her gaze steadily.
No’tra studied him with ancient eyes that seemed to see beyond the physical realm.
"And if they attempt to hold you?"
Jorghan’s eyes turned sharper and held such intensity that it made the old elf wince.
"Then they’ll learn why that would be unwise."
The elder’s lips curved in what might have been approval. "Very well."
"We will follow the plan suggested by Korreth. The boy will go to them and find what he can, and then we can proceed depending on what news he brings back."
Sigora looked at Jorghan, who was looking at her back, assuring her it was fine. He can handle them.
Korreth leaned back, and a faint smile appeared on his lips.
-
The Chycor they provided was a magnificent creature—sleek as a river stone, with wings that caught the morning light like hammered silver.
SkyRaider, they called her, meaning "swift-blade wing" in the old tongue, and she was among the fastest of the clan’s stable. Her rider-bond hummed with controlled power as Jorghan settled into the familiar saddle, his body remembering the rhythm of flight.
Sigora stood at the platform’s edge, her silver-streaked black hair whipping in the wind generated by Skyraider’s wingbeats.
"Trust nothing they tell you completely," she called over the sound.
"Remember—you are more than they can possibly understand, but they must never realize how much more."
"I’ll be careful," he promised, though they both knew that careful might not be enough.
"No," she replied, her voice carrying strange harmonics that suggested she spoke with the weight of foresight. "You’ll be what you have always been—a survivor."
The giant Chycor launched herself from the platform with predatory grace, her wings catching the thermal currents that rose from the island’s core.
Below, the Floating Isles dwindled to distant specks, while ahead lay the uncertainty of renewed contact with those who would make him a subject of study.
The flight to the human settlement took less time than before—the giant Chycor was indeed swift, and Jorghan pushed her harder than strictly necessary, driven by a mixture of eagerness to complete his mission and desire to escape the weight of expectation that clung to him like a second skin.