Kelor sat before the tombstone, the stone cold as moonlight, and let the past pour out like a slow river.
“This thing was left to me when I was little, like a seed pressed into my palm. My mother was the former Elven Queen, Helana. It happened many years ago, so long the face in my memory has faded like mist. I only recall her forcing this into my hand, saying it was ‘to ensure the integrity of time,’ and making me keep it like a lamp against night.”
Lingcai frowned, doubt rising like a thin fog. “Something this precious… and you’re handing it to me so easily?”
Kelor shot her a look, sharp as flint striking steel. “Why are you rushing? I’m not done.”
She patted the tombstone, a sober drumbeat on stone, and kept going. “When she gave it to me, she also gave a prophecy. She said I would meet an Alchemist in the future. After I met that Alchemist, almost every problem would settle itself, like knots loosening in rain.”
Kelor drew a long breath, a winter sigh that smoked in the air. “I never believed in prophecies, those vapor trails that vanish with the sun. But after meeting you, I felt a thread tug from the dark—maybe you’re the one she foresaw. She told me to hand this piece to the you in her vision, and so here it is.”
Foreseeing the future? The thought hit Lingcai like a chill wind over water.
Plenty of people claim they can see tomorrow, leaving fancy lines like paper charms in the market, tricks of smoke and mirrors. But someone like Queen Helana predicting things more than ten years ahead is like catching a falling star in a bowl.
And so far, Lingcai has heard of no magic that truly sees the future, no spell that makes the constellations whisper.
This wasn’t simple; it felt like a knot in old wood, tight and deep.
“Your mother… where is she now? Why would she leave a prophecy like that?” Lingcai asked, her voice tiptoeing like feet over eggshells.
Kelor tapped the tombstone again, the sound dull as rain on slate. “She’s here. She died when I was very young. Before she passed, she made another prophecy that struck like thunder. The elves would lead the uprising alliance, topple the decayed Brunkia regime, and found a new nation. Back then, our army was less than one-tenth of the Brunkia Emperor’s, splinters against an axe. I don’t know how, but her prophecies landed like arrows from the gods.”
The more Kelor spoke, the heavier the cross‑dagger pendant felt in Lingcai’s hand, a millstone on a sparrow’s wing.
It crossed decades like a message sealed in a bottle, and rode a single line of prophecy into her grasp.
If Helana entrusted it with prophecy as a keel, it had to hold a meaning buried like amber.
Hmm? Lingcai watched Kelor fall silent, her words dropping away like leaves. “Then? What else did Queen Helana say?”
Kelor lifted a shoulder, a door closing without a sound. “That’s it.”
“That’s it? That’s all?” Lingcai blinked, stunned like a deer in lantern light.
Kelor stood, brushed dust from her skirt like ash from coals, and gave a long yawn that rippled the still air. “What else do you want? That’s all. I don’t know why she did it. I’ve delivered the thing, my task’s done, and I’m leaving like a shadow at dawn.”
Lingcai stepped in front of her, urgency flaring like a torch. “Wait, wait… I still have questions…”
“What questions?” Kelor stretched, her yawn a slow wave. “Even if you have them, I can’t solve them. Oh, right—if you want your reward, go find Xia, that nasty woman. The regent’s post has passed like a baton; right now, she calls the shots.”
“I’m not after a reward! I mean—did your mother really leave nothing else?” Lingcai’s words trembled like a string plucked too hard.
She was anxious; the cross‑dagger was a sealed box in her hand. She knew it wasn’t ordinary, yet she had no target, like standing at a fork in the fog and fearing the wrong turn.
Kelor felt regret prick like nettles. She nudged Lingcai aside and sighed, words dropping like pebbles. “I really don’t know. If you want the whole truth, try asking her. Maybe she’ll show up in a dream like a moon over water. I don’t know a thing, and badgering me is like knocking on an empty door…”
“Nothing at all? Think again, please, think again…” Lingcai’s whisper fluttered like moth wings by Kelor’s ear.
Kelor endured the buzzing and thought of escape, her mind grinding like a mill wheel. Then, something lit like a spark in straw. “There is a lead. Helana’s old residence has been kept as it was since she died, like a room under glass. If she did leave anything, you might find clues there.”
“Where is that residence? I want to see it.” Lingcai’s voice sharpened like a blade.
Kelor found her fixation strange, but shrugged it off like rain from a cloak. “In the Seven Northern Towns. That was the elves’ fief during the Brunkia era, a pocket of green in iron times. When her illness wasn’t severe, she lived there. Her grave is in the royal capital, but it’s a cenotaph, a garment without the body. The original burial site was swallowed by war, burned and lost. I’d guess it was somewhere near the Seven Northern Towns.”
The flood of intel surged like spring melt; it was hard to sort at once.
Lingcai lifted the pendant again, eyes searching for a glint of meaning like a fisherman watching ripples. It didn’t speak, showed no use, yet carried a mission that stretched from past to future like a bridge of light.
She felt, clear as a knife’s edge, that this wasn’t chance. Invisible threads bound it to her, silk lines tightening like a net.
If she failed to find that link, trouble would roll in like a storm on the horizon.
She pocketed the pendant, calm settling like snow, and asked Kelor, “You said your exile site is the Seven Northern Towns?”
“Yeah. Why? It’s my hometown, in a way,” Kelor replied, casual as wind through grass.
Lingcai set her jaw; resolve clicked into place like a lock. “Take me to the Seven Northern Towns. I want to see Queen Helana’s old home. Maybe we’ll find clues there. I don’t know why, but my gut beats like a drum—if I don’t go, I’ll miss something crucial.”
Kelor stared, stunned like a cat hearing thunder. “Huh? …You?”
A prophecy and a pendant—flint and steel striking one spark—were enough to send Lingcai chasing truth.
Why did Queen Helana leave a prophecy on the edge of death, like a lantern for someone yet to arrive?
And another thorn stuck in Lingcai’s mind: “to ensure the integrity of time”—what did that mean, like a river needing its banks?
“You’re really coming?” Kelor squinted, calculations turning like abacus beads.
Lingcai nodded hard, the motion firm as a tree in wind. “Of course. Also—pardon me—did Queen Helana know anything about Alchemy?”
“Even if she did, I wouldn’t know. In my memory, she just sat and read, forever a quiet flame.” Kelor hummed through her nose, sorrow misting like rain. “It’s been more than ten years; I’ve even forgotten her face like a painting left in sun.”
Grief crested like a wave. Kelor lifted her hand and wiped at her eye, quick as a bird’s flick. Then she laid out terms, steady as stones. “You can come. Travel, lodging, and food, I’ll reimburse, coin stacked like bricks. But you stick with me. I won’t press you; just follow my lead like a boat follows a current. No need to take risks; the Star Royal Guard will protect us, shields up like a wall. We’ll get you to the Seven Northern Towns safe. If you agree, we’ll draft a contract and sign.”
“Deal.” Lingcai didn’t think twice; it felt fair as even scales. Then she added, a grin quick as foxfire, “Can you include my wife? Cover her costs too… I’ll follow your lead, so this small favor… no problem, right? Heh…”
Lingcai didn’t notice she’d sold herself again, even helping count the coins, like a cheerful porter blind to the load.
Kelor hid her sly smile deep as a knife in silk. “No problem.”
