Elara stared across the fire, her silver-white eyes wide and shimmering in the flickering glow. Every movement of the flames cast shadows across her face, tracing the jagged, scarlet lines that carved a living pattern across her cheek. She searched Luciel's expression with the intensity of someone expecting a storm to break—fear, disgust, perhaps even the cautious pity she had become used to over the years. But he only tilted his head, turning a stick of roasted meat with calm, deliberate ease.
"Aren't you afraid of me?" she asked finally, her voice breaking the near silence of the cavern like a tentative whisper. "Of… this?" Her fingers flicked toward the faintly glowing scarlet lines, her own internal pulse quickening as she spoke.
Luciel's black eyes blinked slowly, deliberate and unflinching. "Why would I be afraid of you? Because of those markings?" he asked, tilting his head, his tone measured, almost curious.
Her chest tightened. She had anticipated revulsion, perhaps a polite recoil. But curiosity? Interest? That was something entirely foreign. "You really don't know what they are?" she pressed, her voice tinged with disbelief.
He shrugged lightly, the movement casual but deliberate. "They look… special. Should I?" His gaze lingered on her scarlet lines, tracing the delicate, unnatural patterns etched into her skin.
Elara hesitated, stepping closer so the firelight fully illuminated the strange lines. Her silver eyes searched his, searching for any hint of mockery, any shadow of fear. "Look closer. These are real. Not painted. Not scars. Real," she whispered, the words tasting foreign on her tongue.
Luciel's gaze softened, and for the first time, a faint, almost amused smile touched his lips. "Don't tell me," he murmured, "they're… pretty."
Her breath caught. Pretty. The word seemed absurd when applied to the infection she had carried like a death mark for as long as she could remember. "Pretty?" she echoed under her breath, testing the sound of it, tasting it as if for the first time.
No one—ever—had described her like that. People stared at her, always with the same frightened or pitying expression, like she carried doom beneath her skin. But he… he had said it without fear, without hesitation, and somehow meant it.
The scarlet lines pulsed faintly, in rhythm with her erratic heartbeat, as if reacting to the intensity of her emotions. Her silver eyes searched Luciel's face, desperate for deceit, for a flicker of mockery, something to confirm her instincts were right. But his eyes were steady, dark and unwavering, and more human than she had expected. There was no revulsion. No fear. Only clarity, patience, and… acceptance.
For the first time in years, Elara found herself silent, unsure how to respond. A warmth stirred in her chest, quiet, fragile, unfamiliar. Recognition, perhaps, or the faint flicker of trust.
Did he truly not know what "the infection of the virtual ghost" meant? Or did his confidence—so absolute, so calm—render him indifferent? Perhaps it was both.
Her voice finally emerged, small and uncertain. "You… really don't mind?"
Luciel shifted slightly, uncomfortable under her unwavering gaze. "Mind what?" he asked quickly, scratching the back of his neck. Then, as if to change the subject, he added, "Anyway… what's your name?"
"Elara," she said, the word slipping out softly. "Elara Kasmin."
"Luciel," he replied simply, nodding politely. "Teacher, traveler… occasional friend to lost people."
Her lips curved into a faint, reluctant smile, a small crack in the armor she had built around herself over the years.
"Now," Elara said, drawing herself up slightly, determination sparking in her gaze, "a promise is a promise. You said you'd show me the flower with wings."
Luciel winced, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Right. About that…"
Her expression darkened instantly, silver hair glinting in the firelight. "Don't tell me you lied to me," she said sharply.
"No, no," he said quickly, raising both hands in mock surrender. "I didn't lie. It's just… you can't see it right now."
Elara's eyes narrowed. "Then where is it?"
He sighed, tossing another stick into the fire. The flames hissed and danced over the wood. "Relax. I didn't break my word. The flower's safe. I just… asked my domesticated beast to take it home."
Her jaw dropped. "You what?"
"I sent it back to my base," Luciel said simply, as if sending an exotic plant via giant lizard were the most normal thing in the world. "It's safer there. If you really want to see it, you can come with me."
"Your… home?" she echoed, incredulous. Her mind raced—images of the grim valley, of Bloodbeard's thieves swarming the cliffs below, all collided at once. "You mean your home is… near here?"
Luciel nodded, casual as if it were any ordinary stroll. "Close enough to walk before sunset."
Elara frowned, brows knitting. "You're either very brave or very stupid," she muttered, a faint edge of admiration in her voice.
He chuckled softly. "I prefer… resourceful."
Her lips twitched into a reluctant laugh, the sound almost foreign in the cavern's dim light. "You must know this area well then. No wonder you slipped into Bloodbeard's treasure house like it was nothing."
"Let's just say I have… moving experience," he said, a small smirk on his lips. "Not stealing—just relocating things."
Elara rolled her eyes. "Whatever you call it, Bloodbeard will be furious when he finds out."
"Probably," Luciel said casually, feeding the fire with another stick. "But by then, we'll be long gone."
Her gaze drifted over the cavern, taking in the chaos—the torn webs, scattered supplies, jagged stones cracked by their hasty escape. "He's going to faint from anger," she murmured, almost to herself.
Luciel shrugged, tilting the stick over the flames. "You hungry?"
Before she could respond, her stomach growled, betraying her.
He smiled faintly, holding out the stick. "Barbecue?"
Elara hesitated, eyeing the meat glistening over the flames. "You're seriously still cooking? With half the mountain about to collapse?"
"Never skip a meal," he said seriously. "That's how people make mistakes."
Despite herself, she laughed softly. His calmness, even here, made her pulse slow and her chest loosen.
A sudden low rumble vibrated through the ground, and she caught movement in the corner of her eye. Arachni, the enormous crimson spider, was hauling a bundle of webbing across jagged rocks, the silk glistening faintly in the firelight.
"Are you not leaving yet?" she asked, frowning.
"Soon," Luciel said easily. "Once my other beast finishes loading."
"Elara blinked, following his gaze. "Other beast?"
He nodded. "Arachni is excellent at short hauls. But for long distances… I rely on Skink."
Her eyes widened as a massive tricolor lizard slithered silently from the shadows. It was the size of a horse, scales shimmering green, blue, and gold. Despite its size, it moved with uncanny grace, soundless across the jagged rocks.
She stumbled back. "By the stars—when did that get here?"
Luciel gestured casually. "Skink, over here."
The lizard obeyed instantly, lowering itself as Luciel tied bundle after bundle of supplies across its broad back—rolled cloth, food rations, and small equipment, until the creature seemed almost twice its natural size.
"You… use a beast like that to move cargo?" she asked, awe and disbelief mingling in her voice.
Luciel grinned. "Strong back, steady legs. Perfect mover."
She shook her head, a small laugh escaping despite her astonishment. "You're unbelievable."
Arachni clicked her mandibles softly, widening the gap in the dome so Skink could pass. Small stones tumbled down the hill with each impact.
Elara crossed her arms, watching the chaotic but precise operation. "When Bloodbeard comes back and sees this… he'll die of rage."
"Probably," Luciel said cheerfully, tightening the last knot. "Ready to go?"
He slung a waterproof pack over his shoulder, a small wooden barrel dangling at his side—the crystal fish's new home—and strapped a bundle of swords across his waist.
Elara raised an eyebrow. "Do you always carry half a house when you travel?"
"Never know what you'll need," Luciel said with a playful wink.
She sighed, glancing at the glowing spider silk clinging to the ceiling. "Compared to you, I feel underprepared."
As they moved toward the gap in the cavern wall, Elara hesitated, casting one last glance over the wreckage.
"Wait!" she called suddenly, sprinting toward a pile of supplies. She returned moments later, clutching a small bucket of water and a bag of dried meat.
Luciel chuckled. "Not bad. Learning from the best?"
"Just… didn't want to leave without food and water," she said, cheeks flushed.
"That's exactly how it should be," Luciel approved, his gaze softening.
Her blush deepened, and she ducked her head. But her eyes couldn't help lingering on Skink, laden with supplies, and Arachni, clinging like a shadow on the cliffside. The easy confidence in Luciel's movements stirred a mix of awe and disbelief within her.
He really lives like this? she thought. Taming monsters, stealing from thieves, surviving beside danger… her own daring felt almost timid in comparison.
When she caught up at the ledge, Luciel tested the rope of spider silk dangling down. The night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of wet earth and distant pine. Below, the valley hummed with the distant shouts of thieves, still searching in vain.
Luciel looked back. "Ready?"
Elara adjusted her pack. "You really think your beasts can carry all that without getting spotted?"
"They've done worse," he said, flashing an easy grin.
She exhaled slowly. "You're insane."
"Maybe," he said, extending a hand. "But it works."
She hesitated, then placed her hand in his. Warm. Steady. Reliable.
As they descended, the stars watched in silent vigil, scattered like frozen sparks across the night sky. The thief hunter and the infected girl carried secrets, burdens, and a fragile trust down the haunted cliff face.
For the first time in years, Elara didn't feel like a monster. For the first time, she felt alive.
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