After the quiet settled like dew on moss, the priestess let out a breath. She slipped under her quilt, two eyes peeking out like shy fireflies.

‘What do I do… Is someone still watching me? Ugh… why is this happening to me?’ Her heart thumped like a trapped sparrow before her hands even moved.

When she gets anxious, she likes hiding under the covers. It’s a small burrow in the night, a clumsy remedy, but the warm darkness soothes her.

By prophecy, she came here to find someone. Instead, the path twisted like brambles; danger closed in like fog. Every draw screamed Great Misfortune.

‘I want to go home…’ The thought sighed through her like winter wind under a door.

At dawn, she slipped past the guards and walked alone into the inner layers of the World Tree. Elven sentries watched like owls, then stepped aside.

They saw she was a priestess of the Beastkin. Without a word, they opened a path like reeds parting on a river.

She didn’t look surprised. She took the way inward, feet light as a doe moving through shade.

“Ah! Daiya, you’re here~ So early, and you came to see me,” Flora Eina waved from her office, built among branches like a nest of light.

She looked unsurprised, smiling like sun filtered through leaves. Her voice carried a gentle lilt, warm as morning tea.

Out front, the Elf Clan’s leader is Flora Eina. Behind the curtain, Hualuo Jingqing holds the reins. Eina has authority, but she hates busywork.

So most days she wears the crown like a paper mask. A leader in name, a puppet in practice, drifting like a petal on a slow stream.

“I think we last met months ago, right? You were frosty then, not a word for me. Hey, I pampered you when you were little!”

Eina’s eyes softened like moonlight on water. “The girl who hid in her tiny nest when she got scared grew into a priestess who stands alone.”

Between Beastkin and Elf Clan, the tale is thorny. Rumors say they clash; wars flared like summer storms in the old days.

Truth runs different. Danger rises for one, the other answers like thunder chasing lightning. Centuries made that rhythm a kind of tradition.

Half-beastkin treat elves kinder. Pure Beastkin don’t, not always. They call elves lazy, resting half the year like cats in a patch of sun.

To the Beastkin, that’s a road to nowhere. As good neighbors, they tried to change elven views. Their methods? A bit like sand in soup.

Elves got annoyed at Beastkin jabs. Tempers boiled, wars broke out. Later, Hualuo Jingqing mediated. The elves nudged the next generation’s views.

Now both sides look at each other like wolves across a river. Teeth shown, but no charge. Dislike, without war.

Daiya entered, shut the door with a soft thump, then sagged onto Eina’s chair. She rested with eyes closed, breath slow as tide.

“Why so much trouble these days… I just wanted to keep a quiet life going.” Her voice felt tired, like ash after flame.

“Who doesn’t…” Eina rose. She poured tea, steam curling like mist from a forest. Then she handed over a stack of intel.

“This is a list of people in your tribe who may be compromised. They vanished briefly inside our lands, then returned like nothing happened.”

“I suspect someone tampered with them. Be careful, Daiya.” Her words fell steady, like stones placed in a crossing stream.

“I know. Thank you… Sister Eina.” Gratitude warmed her chest like amber, even as worry nipped at her heels.

“Heh… you still remember to call me sister.” Eina’s smile thinned. “Even in the Elven Dominion, it’s not truly safe.”

“That cult is a viper in grass. The Old Ancestor told me, if things turn dire, she’ll strike first. Protect yourself before anything else. Promise.”

Daiya didn’t nod at once. Fingers cupped the hot tea like holding a tiny hearth. She hesitated, then moved her head. “I’ll try, Sister Eina.”

“What do you mean, try…” Eina pressed her palm to her forehead. “If you pull something reckless, I’ll drag you back even if it breaks my nails!”

“I know… but, Sister Eina… I tested several times. Every lot came up Great Misfortune. I’m afraid this time…”

“Even if the Flower of the Other Shore empties its nest, it won’t have its way.” Eina brushed Daiya’s hair, careful with a touch to her ear.

Daiya closed her eyes, a cat basking in sun. Worry still buzzed like a hidden hornet, but this was her fight. She wouldn’t pull Eina in.

To Daiya, Flora Eina is a sister in every season—past and present, like roots and trunk entwined.

The Beastkin came to forge a strategic alliance with the Elf Clan. Voices at home howled like wind, but Daiya stood firm and walked forward.

As a priestess, she communes with the divine. In critical moments, she can call a god down like lightning to a spear.

Yet she can speak only to the god she serves. Even so, within her tribe she stands above the chiefs, like a star above a campfire.

She planned for about three months. In that span, she must stay inside the Elven Dominion for the rites and preparations. It’s their custom.

One month later.

“Get back here, you brat! You’re driving me crazy!” Huaruo Qingqing crouched, panting, like a huntress after a hard chase.

A girl clutching a huge goddess statue had sprinted past obstacles like a gust through reeds. She vaulted over a giant red-ink sign: DO NOT LEAVE.

She kicked off like a hawk taking wing. As she pierced a transparent wall, ripples spread out in rings, like rain on glass.

The goddess statue Huaruo Qingqing had half-finished in days crumbled to powder. Hope turned to dust, scattered like ash in the air.

“Aaaah—my goddess statue!!!” She fell to her knees. Her eyes went red, veins bulging on her pale right hand like roots under bark.

“Nyeh-nyeh-nyeh~ old hag, you ate the salad Sister Eina gave me yesterday. Come out and fight if you’ve got guts~ If you ask me…”

“This. Is. Karma.” Her words dropped like pebbles, one by one, into a still pool.

“I’ll repay you ****!” Huaruo Qingqing sprang up, finger stabbing the air at the girl. “It was little Eina’s gift to me!”

“You ate your portion, then dared to talk big!?”

“Nonsense…!” Tangxue’s cheeks flushed like cherry petals. She kept arguing. “I never said that portion was yours. You ate the salad behind my back!”

“You think I wouldn’t know without you saying?” Huaruo Qingqing laughed, sharp as a snapping twig. She flicked her hand.

Whoosh— a thick vine punched through the wall, a green spear bursting from stone like spring breaking through frost.