“Little Mei, before you came to this land, were you male or female, and what were you?” The Queen’s voice flowed like cool springwater. Medith hesitated like a leaf in wind, then spoke. “Male, a general. Let the name fall like dust.”

“And now, are you male or female?” The Queen’s smile curved like a crescent moon above dark water. Medith didn’t overthink, her heart beating like a drum. “Of course… both.”

“How about…” The Queen leaned in like a swan over a lake, crimson lips brushing the air before Medith. “How about you be my husband? I govern, you enforce. Clean as rain.”

“Eh?” Medith startled like a deer in brush, tumbled from the bench, and stared from the floor. The Queen’s laugh chimed like silver bells, her eyes bending like sliver moons.

Medith finally caught on, shame and relief tangling like vines. “Sister Lahiss, that isn’t funny, not at all. You know ruler and minister, like sun and shadow. I’d die before crossing that line.”

“Really?” The Queen’s brow arched like a drawn bow. Medith stood and patted dust from her rear, each tap like a sparrow’s beat. “Of course. A promise loosed can’t be chased by four horses.”

“Really really?” Amusement deepened in her eyes like ink in a well. Medith answered righteous and steady, her chest tight as a knotted rope. “Absolutely. Heaven and earth as my witness.”

“Oh? Then why the blush?” The Queen’s laughter rippled like a brook, while two peach-pink clouds climbed Medith’s cheeks. Medith cupped her burning face like guarding an ember.

“Ahem, fine, I’ll stop teasing. A woman’s body, a man’s heart, desire rising like spring sap is normal. But I wasn’t joking. With your gifts, you’re fit to be my husband.”

“And the people wouldn’t mind. Here, same-sex marriage stands like pines in snow. Seventy percent are women, and even one man per partner won’t fill the gap.”

“Then why not allow polygyny? A man with three wives and four concubines, like a lord with banners, what’s wrong with that?” Medith’s puzzlement hung like fog.

“I don’t allow it. Love is for a lifetime, like a lamp kept through a long night, not a tool tossed like driftwood. The Elf Clan lives eight hundred years on average, most past a thousand.”

“If two hearts never truly love, the days stretch like winter without sun. It’s a pain that gnaws like frost.” Her emerald eyes flowed like green waves, dredging up old tides.

Medith smiled, and that smile held storms and starlight like a night sea. “I remember the lover of my last life. Her name was Feng Lingxi. She wasn’t a city-toppling beauty, and a straight scar marred her face like a cold stroke.”

“But that night, when my dream climbed the heavens and my steps neared the underworld, she descended like a deity beside me, light cutting through smoke.”

“With clever hands like swallows in spring, she washed my wounds and stitched my rotting flesh, and stitched my hollow heart. She crashed into my world like thunder.”

“She shone like the sun and lit my black-and-white life like dawn on snowfields.” Medith’s voice thinned like a blade. “I swore to love her for ten lives, ten worlds.”

“That night the gale howled, my armor hummed like a hive, iron hooves thundered like storm surf. Her home faced invasion like a nest kicked apart.”

“My eyes went red like a setting sun. I charged alone, one man against a thousand, like a lone pine in blizzard. I pushed back ten thousand suits of armor like a breaking tide.”

“Long after, the blood-haze fell like ash. When I woke, corpses lay everywhere, stacked like a mountain in winter. I stood atop it with a broken blade like a jagged moon.”

“Later I heard she was safe. I held her tight, greedily taking in that warmth like a hearth in snow. Years later, we married, rings like encircling rivers.”

“Not long after, a million cavalry poured into the city like locusts. She died like a candle snuffed by wind.” Medith’s hands curled like withered leaves. “And I could do nothing.”

“My oath shattered like ice on stone. Maybe it was punishment. The gods remade me into this shape, a mirror like still water, to chastise an oath-breaker who failed his love.”

The Queen saw sorrow deepen on Medith’s lovely face, a grief vast enough to drop stars like fruit, a pain that could split stone like frost. A string in her heart twanged like a bow.

She leaned on Medith’s shoulder, light as a falling feather. “Maybe this is a reward from the gods, like spring after drought. They’re giving you a chance to mend it.”

[“Rebirth… If I’m reborn, what can I do?” The thought drifted like smoke.

“You can save her.” The answer rang like a bell.]

“Right! If I gather the Divine Stones, what happens?” Medith sprang up like a spark from tinder.

“No one knows. It could be disaster like flood, or blessing like rain after fire. For now, I think holding still is best. Don’t tell me you’re…” Her words trailed like mist.

“Uh… if that’s the only way…” Medith’s resolve settled like iron.

“Think it through. No one’s stepped on that path, like a cliff-edge without trail. No one knows what will happen, like a sealed sky.” The Queen’s gaze sharpened like frost. “I don’t believe the nations will hand over the Divine Stones like fruit on a plate. You’d be an enemy of the world, like a spark in dry grass. Is this what you want?”

“My mind’s made up,” Medith said, voice steady like a drawn blade.

The Queen met Medith’s resolute eyes and finally sighed like wind through pines. “Alright, I understand. Nessos and the others likely aren’t as simple as they look. Most likely, they came for this.”

She opened a black book like night, a volume that should have been blank like untouched snow.

Yet Medith saw words bloom on the first page like ink spreading on rice paper. It read like a chronicle, recording the outline of Medith’s recent battle like a river map.

“This…” Medith pointed at the characters, stunned silent, as if the paper’s whiteness were a whirlpool pulling her in like a moon-tugged tide.

“You really are the Divine Child, aren’t you?” The Queen’s surprise flashed like lightning. Medith heard the term and sifted memory like sand, recalling that talk with Milia and the others.

Back then she’d said she could read forbidden books, and they’d said, no wonder, like clouds parting, no wonder she was so strong.

“You needn’t be shocked. When you told me who you were, I’d already almost confirmed it, like a drawn line needing ink. This only seals it.”

“This was left by the Ancestor Master, like a footprint in stone. Legend says the Elf Clan was born when a dragon-headed long spear fell into the mountain forest like a star.”

“When the Divine Lance moved, heaven and earth changed like a storm. The ground roared, the sky tore, trees swayed, and winds howled like wolves.”

“The Divine Lance can command all the world’s vital breath like a king of tides. That day in the forest, the Ancestor Master swung the Lance and slew a million monsters like mowing wheat.”

“As the Lance roared, trees chimed, leaves shivered, and falling leaves brushed the dragon head like butterflies. After centuries, a leaf took human form like a chrysalis breaking. The first Sprites still had wings like dawn clouds.”

“For some unknown reason, they later devolved into this form, like rivers changing course. Aside from ears and magic, we’re no different from humans.”

“The source of this book can’t be traced, like a spring under rock. We only obeyed the ancestors and enshrined it as a divine thing, a flame tended by queens.”

“Only the Queen could hold it, like a seal in a sleeve. In my time, I changed the rule and kept it by me to study, like a lantern in night.”

“Many coveted it, eyes like wolves in fog, but I turned them away with care, like steering a boat past reefs. To this day, except me, the people still think it’s a holy relic.”

“That’s their goal? How did they know?” Medith’s thoughts raced like arrows. “A traitor? If no one can read it, why stake lives on a surprise attack like a midnight knife?”

At last Medith understood, the pattern clearing like rain-washed skies. No wonder Nessos moved with such purpose, plan detailed enough to count even the Queen’s defeat like beads.

She had thought them petty gnats buzzing, but now clouds gathered like armor. Nessos rallying the Mountain Bandits was only a smokescreen, a veil of dust he raised to hide his hand like a fox in reeds.