“You’ve changed so much.” Even Haidra, an outsider, couldn’t help the sigh—growth shooting up like bamboo after rain in just over a month.

“We should’ve done this long ago. The Elf Clan are children of the forest; arrowsmithing, hidden sites, even strike tactics fit us like bark to a tree. But certain reasons kept us shut in, nearly courting disaster…” Medith greeted folk as they passed, her voice a steady stream in the green.

The women snapped awake at that. Those “reasons” pointed straight at the Elven Queen; Sais remembered how Medith had been swamped, hair aflame with worry.

She’d begged for troops and leverage everywhere. No one saw her grind. Most thought she was fretting over falling skies, not seeing she was the clearest-eyed among them.

Shame pricked Sais first, then memory. Back then she drifted easy as a cloud. Her strength didn’t grow; her body stiffened; worst, her mind numbed. Even on the road, she couldn’t feel Medith’s fear.

Only after the siege did it settle in her bones—the world’s vastness like a sea, the heart’s treachery like a cliff under fog.

“Better late than reforging the pen when all the sheep are gone—it’s not too late.” Medith walked the freshly cut highway through the Glimmering Green Forest. “Lina, what’s with the warding and this big road?”

Lina had been staring at Medith’s and Sais’s hair the whole way, curiosity fluttering like a moth, wanting to ask but not daring. She half-thought they’d gone to the city to dye it, learned a wicked trick.

Medith’s question snapped her back. “Oh—this highway was ordered by the Queen. She plans to spread the word, open a few trade lines, grow Xurenxus City’s strength and lands. Army costs bite hard—gear, food and clothes, care and training for warhorses…

These watchtowers and—”

“Alright, alright. I’m not the treasurer. Talk those chicken-feather details to him.” Medith’s ears were calloused from budget talk. She was a general, not a ledger; she gave orders, the rest flowed downstream.

“Nice. Her Majesty’s wised up.” Milia breathed out, relief like sunlight through leaves. Not only stronger in arms, they’d turned the first line of defense into a trade artery. That’s no small pivot—walls into bridges.

Medith sat easy in the saddle. “Her Majesty rose from war. She knows what matters. Give her that last nudge at the gate, and the river finds its channel.”

“It’s just… that ‘kick’ landed hard.” Rita’s eyes lowered, sorrow dusting her gaze like ash on fresh snow.

They paused, stunned. The Mountain Bandits struck hard, yes, but the blow woke the Queen. The timing wasn’t too late.

“Hey! Right—Haidra, how about you send some troops over?

Look, we’re in seedling stage. Our measures and management can’t match yours. We lack military know-how, and don’t grasp how twisted hearts can be. Humans doing business are sharp as knives. These little lasses are pure to a fault—don’t let them get swindled and still help count the money.” Medith’s tone was light, her eyes sharp.

Haidra nodded, hearing the grain in the wood. “Makes sense… We’ll send troops to protect you, and give you knowledge and training. Once your trade lines open, it helps us too. Long-term, trade flowing both ways only benefits us. Good idea!

I’ll talk with the Queen, lay out a plan, then report to Emperor Aelius. He’ll agree.”

“You won’t fleece me, right?” Medith joked, grinning wide, teeth bright as polished bone.

Haidra’s face steadied. “What kind of talk is that? We never fleece friends—least of all benefactors.

Rest easy. I swear on my name—this will work.”

She wasn’t lying. Their bond was no ordinary tie. Closer ties only helped—Elvenfolk needed Eunomia’s shelter; Eunomia needed the elves’ magic lore and rare goods.

It was already win-win. And then there was Medith.

Ding—dang… ding—dang… The gates of Xurenxus City were already open, welcome bells ringing like silver rain for Medith and the others returning.

“Your servant Medith, bows to Your Majesty the Queen! I did not fail my charge; I’ve brought—” Medith rattled off a list in one breath, a stream of foods, goods, military gear unknown to many Sprites. Elyu hadn’t come empty-handed either.

He’d sailed in with a boatload of repeat crossbows, silver crossbows, and special arrows—not forged by Impado, but in fine steel, easy for local processing.

That “we don’t need it” from the other day was just talk. If it’s gifted to Medith, you take it with both hands.

The gear and materials this time could fully arm half the city. Worth noting: they sent five Blackblood War Chariots, ten massive war hammers, and included operating principles and schematics. Engineers would stay until the Elvenfolk engineers mastered every bolt.

Among the people they brought, of course, were chefs and a squad of soldiers. They fanned out and got busy, each like a bee finding a flower.

“This… this is heaven…” Nira breathed, eyes wide as moonpools. Sprites whooshed everywhere, playing like wind through leaves. Children on branches chased butterflies. In the river, Sprites scrubbed clothes and greens, hands turning water into glittering lace. On long benches, couples leaned into each other, shoulder to shoulder like sparrows under eaves.

Women were the many among them. Nira watched two female Sprites kiss in open daylight, skin to skin, lips meshing. A silvery strand drew between them in the air—brazen as moonlight—an alluring scene, wine-sweet and warm.

“Hey. You interested?” Medith ghosted a tap to Nira’s shoulder.

Shock first, then motion—Nira jolted high like a cat on a hot tile, cheeks flushing rose. “I… I… no…”

“Same-sex marriage is legal here, and blessed. But the Elf Clan and humans aren’t allowed to wed or fall in love.” Medith’s eyes held a curious, teasing light.

Nira’s gaze wandered, hands lost, body knotting into awkwardness. “Heh… heh-heh…”

“But,” Medith leaned close, breath like warm wind at Nira’s ear, “no marriage doesn’t mean no indulgence.”

“Ah—!” Nira squealed, struck like thunder under clear sky.

“Oh—oh! Medith bullying a little girl. We caught you.” The women had appeared behind them somehow, wearing that “gotcha” grin.

Medith spread her hands, innocence painted on her face. Behind her, a pair of blood-red eyes, predator-sharp, fixed on her neck with killing heat.

“Mm?!” Medith spun like a startled rabbit. A flame-red silhouette flashed—and then…

Medith came before the Queen. Before she could gather herself, her vision filled—

Two butterflies slipped in through the window, wings writing cursive in the air. They alighted on a blossom, shoulder to shoulder. The breeze leaned in, and the flower swayed, a quiet dance. The butterflies beat their wings again, heading for a little Eden.

They crossed shadowed forest and a perilous gorge. Darkness draped over them like a heavy cloak. They shed every tether and drove their wings, hearts beating toward a single, bright aim.

Suddenly, white light flared. They burst through the dark and saw a garden washed in sanctity.

They had arrived. A sea of flowers spread to the horizon; blooms opened like smiling faces. A round, immaculate moon hung grand in the sky, pouring milk-white light. In that dream-like sea, a red-clad witch swept across the heavens on a broom, a tiny scarlet mark against the moon—one drop of crimson ink.

The butterflies flew side by side toward the moon. After a brief crossing of trails, they drifted down to earth, settling on a lily, feasting with forgetful joy.

Time slid. Moonlight fell like a warm white rain, bathing them into snow-pure shapes. Around them, flowers drank deep and, petal by petal, opened—like snow-lotus in sacred bloom. The butterflies took their fill, bellies sweet and satisfied. Work for the day done, they nestled together, hearts slow and content.

A moment later, they lay in the flower’s heart, and sleep, soft as silken night, folded over them.