The Valendor Mountains loomed under the glow of the moon, their jagged peaks cloaked in ice and shadow. Snow blanketed the land in a thick sheet, interrupted only by the towering pines that swayed in the breeze.
The wind howled, a haunting wail that echoed like a beast prowling in the darkness. A silver Eagleowl perched on a lofty limb, its head tiling 180 degrees, large yellow eyes fixed on a curious object below.
Nestled between the roots of an ancient fir, a single tent lay hidden beneath a veil of white. Camouflaged, it was barely more than a shadow in the night. The fabric trembled against the wind, the faint flicker of firelight barely visible through the seams.
Dugun. Dugun. Dugun.
…It’s warm.
Tiphanna stirred from her slumber with a soft, lazy moan, a rhythmic sound drumming in her ears.
It was oddly soothing.
Her fingertips drifted over the soft yet firm surface upon which her head rested. Her body was warm and comfortable, a stark contrast to the sheer cold she felt earlier. Unconsciously, she snuggled closer to the source of the gentle warmth.
When her eyes finally flickered open and her vision sharpened, she was stunned to find Daisuke—the golden-eyed shadow—sleeping peacefully next to her.
This is a dream, right?
Before her flustered mind could even issue the command, her body—now hyperaware of his dangerous proximity—was already pulling away from him. Her breasts swayed from the sudden motion, small pink cherries almost visible through her still damp brassiere.
Tiphanna’s eyes widened at the sight of that, her face flushing bright pink. Embarrassed, she shuffled farther away, the blanket slipping off and pooling at her toes, revealing long, creamy legs and damp panties.
“—Nh-Ugh...”
The elf muttered something utterly incomprehensible, then her breath caught in her throat, the flush coloring her face now reaching up to the tip of her ears.
Wait, if I’m in this state then…
Her gaze hesitantly drifted upward, skimming over the hard planes of Daisuke’s bare chest, tracing the hard ridges of his abs—until the rest of him disappeared beneath a pair of boxers.
She swallowed, her eyes quivering with a storm of emotions. Her lips parted slowly, her gaze turning glassy, her chest rising and falling with each unsteady breath as her pulse thundered in her veins.
Suddenly—
Daisuke began to stir.
Alarmed, the anxious elf reached for the blanket and clumsily pulled it up to her nose.
“…You’re awake,” he murmured between his teeth, his handsome face far too composed considering their vulnerable state.
“H-Haxks!” she squeaked. “What’s happening?! What did you do with my clothes?!”
Daisuke gestured with his nose to something behind her. “They were drenched, so I had to remove them.”
Tiphanna glanced around at said garments that were affixed to a line next to the fire.
“You would’ve likely died from hyperthermia if I didn’t,” Daisuke added.
“B-But why are you also…,” her words suddenly trailed off and she averted her gaze shyly.
“Skin-to-skin contact was the best way to transfer heat and regulate your body temperature.”
“…It’s so unfair that you can say that with such a straight face,” Tiphanna murmured beneath her breath.
“Did you say something?”
The elf shook her head, her cheeks flushed. “I-I owe you my life. Thanks for coming to my rescue.”
“Of course, I wasn’t about to leave you behind.”
Tiphanna lowered her head, her eyes a bit glum. “…I didn’t think it was going to be possible for you to defeat that monster.”
“To be honest… me either,” Daisuke admitted with a faint smirk. “It's all thanks to the daggers you made. If I’d been stuck with my old weapons, we’d probably be fish food by now.”
Tiphanna shivered at the thought.
“By the way,” Daisuke began, sitting upright. “Back when we were fighting the Treant and you started falling, why didn’t you use your wind magic?”
The elf paused, her lips pressing to a thin line.
“…It’s okay,” Daisuke said, noting her discomfort. “Forget I asked.”
Tiphanna slowly shook her head. “No… after everything you’ve done for me, you deserve to know the truth.”
Daisuke arched one brow in question. “The truth?”
The girl lowered the blanket to her collarbones, her embarrassment replaced now by sorrow. After a long pause, she spoke.
“…The reason I didn’t use wind magic,” she whispered, recalling the moment her wooden relic got destroyed, “is because I’ve never truly been able to use wind magic.”
Daisuke’s frown deepened. “Huh? Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t elves inherently blessed by the wind spirits?”
Tiphanna’s pear green eyes narrowed, glossy with tears. “They are, but for some reason… I wasn’t.”
There was a moment of silence.
“I was constantly bullied by the children and met with scorn from the adults,” she continued bitterly, recalling the torment she endured at school and the way people openly sneered at her mother in the market.
“Believing I was merely a late bloomer, my mother did everything she could to help me awaken my dormant abilities. Wind magic embodies freedom, joy, and serenity, yet no matter how hard I tried, the element refused to heed my call. But—”
Tiphanna’s expression hardened into lines of grief. “When I got incredibly desperate, frustrated… angry,” something else answered my call.
The cold wind whipped mercilessly through the clearing, stirring the snow-laden branches overhead. Tiphanna stood firmly, her breath visible in the frigid air. Across from her knelt her mother, face gentle despite the cold, eyes filled with unwavering hope.
“Close your eyes, darling,” the woman whispered, voice soft as falling snow. “Feel the wind. It’s always there waiting for you. Waiting to answer.”
Tiphanna squeezed her eyes shut, her small fists trembling at her sides. She tried. She listened. But the wind refused her call. Again.
Her mother’s voice came once more, coaxing. Encouraging. “You just need to trust your instincts. Let go. You’re my daughter—you carry the wind’s song inside you.”
But the words began to grate. The warmth in them twisted in Tiphanna’s chest, mixing with a bubbling frustration that she could no longer keep down. Why wouldn’t it answer? Why was she always the one left behind?
Tears pricked her eyes. The whispers of the other elves echoed in her mind. Cursed child. Magicless. Useless. Her fists clenched tighter.
Then something snapped.
It wasn’t wind that answered her plea.
A violent surge flared inside her, and before she knew it, red and gold light burst forth from her hands—wild, untamed, angry. Fire roared to life, consuming the snow beneath her feet, crackling like the breath of a beast unleashed.
Her mother’s scream cut through the inferno.
“Tiphanna!”
The girl’s eyes flew open in horror. She saw her mother’s figure, her hands blistering, face scorched as she tried to smother the flames licking up her sleeves. Panic seized Tiphanna’s throat. The smell of burning wood, burning flesh filled the air.
Voices shouted from beyond the trees.
“They’re here—something’s wrong!”
Villagers burst into the clearing, their eyes widening at the devastation. At her mother’s crumpled form. At the terrified little girl standing amid the embers.
“There she is!” one man snarled while pointing. “The cursed child! Look at what she’s done!”
“She’s a blight upon the village!” spat another, his eyes wild with disgust.
“If we leave her be, she’ll summon disaster—just like the stories say!”
“Get her away from here! She’s no elf—she’s the devil’s spawn!”
Tiphanna’s legs refused to move as stones began to pelt her, hurled by the children she once played with.
“Monster!”
“Witch!”
A sharp pain split across her cheek—a blade of wind magic, deliberately aimed. Blood trickled down her face, mingling with her tears. She stumbled back, icy terror clawing up her spine.
Her mother was being carried off by the villagers, but no one offered to help her. No one reached out a hand.
Tiphanna ran.
Through the village. Past the scornful glares. Into the forest where the shadows stretched long and the air felt thick with something heavy and oppressive. Like even the spirits had turned away from her.
Branches scraped her skin as she pushed herself forward, her heart pounding, her chest heaving. The shouts behind her drew closer. Wind blades zipped past her like Honeywasps, one slicing a lock of hair, another gouging a nearby tree trunk. She tripped and fell, barely avoiding an arrow that wedged itself deep into a stump. Her body screamed at her to keep moving. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Only run.
Until, at last, the voices faded, swallowed by the night. She collapsed beneath a towering pine, breathless, tears freezing on her cheeks. And there, wrapped in darkness, she let herself fall into unconsciousness.
The next thing she knew, warmth cradled her.
The scent of something rich, creamy, and familiar drifted to her nose. She blinked awake to a low-lit room, a blanket tucked over her. Her cheek was bandaged.
A figure approached—a stout dwarf with kind eyes and a beard braided neatly. He smiled down at her, radiating an odd, disarming comfort.
“Awake, are ya?” he rumbled, handing her a bowl of stew. “You’re safe now, lass. No need to be afraid.”
Tiphanna stared, hesitant. But there was something about him… something that felt like home, though she’d never met him before.
She glanced down at the cream stew before taking a tentative bite—and the taste overwhelmed her. Warm, hearty, familiar. Her lip quivered.
“…It’s delicious,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “It tastes just like mom’s…”
The ache in her chest became unbearable as her mother’s pained scream echoed in her mind. She hadn’t meant to hurt her, but the damage was done—an unforgivable sin in the eyes of her mother, her people. And the spirits… they had already turned their backs on her.
Tears spilled down her face before she could stop them.
The dwarf’s large hand gently patted her head. “I won’t ask ya about your troubles,” he murmured kindly. “Stay as long as ya like, little one.”
At those words, her sobs came freely. She clung to the wooden bowl, the simple comfort of his presence breaking through the storm in her heart.