The spiral stair brought them back to the surface just as the sun dipped behind the western canopy, painting the village in shades of amber and rose. Eldoria unfolded before Jax like a painting come to life: massive oaks whose trunks had been lovingly hollowed and shaped into homes, bridges of woven vines swaying gently between platforms, lanterns of captured will-o'-wisps floating like lazy fireflies. Waterfalls cascaded from higher branches into pools below, their mist catching the dying light in rainbows. Elves moved with quiet grace—archers in leaf-embroidered leather, mages in flowing robes embroidered with glowing runes, children with pointed ears chasing glowing orbs that bobbed like soap bubbles.
It was beautiful.
It was also terrifying.
Because every single elf who caught sight of him stopped what they were doing.
A woodcarver set down his chisel mid-stroke. A weaver dropped her shuttle. A pair of young trainees on the archery range lowered their bows and stared, mouths slightly open. Whispers rippled outward like pond ripples: "The Chosen One…" "He has come…" "Feel that power…"
Jax pulled the borrowed cloak tighter around his shoulders. "This is… a lot."
Elara walked so close her sleeve brushed his arm with every step. "They have waited generations for your arrival. The prophecies are very specific."
"Yeah," Jax muttered. "Naked guy falls from sky, radiates fuck-me pheromones, saves the world. Classic."
She tilted her head, ears twitching. "I do not understand all your words, but your humility is inspiring."
Humility. Sure. Let's go with that.
The head elder—whose name, Jax had learned, was Thalindra—led the procession through the central plaza. A crowd had already gathered. Dozens of elves, all beautiful in that ethereal, impossible way fantasy races always were. Men and women alike watched with reverence, but the women… the women looked at him like he was the answer to a question they hadn't dared ask aloud.
Thalindra raised her hands. Silence fell instantly.
"People of Eldoria," she declared, voice carrying without effort, "the stars have kept their promise. The Chosen One has returned to us in our hour of need. Jax, bearer of the divine aura, has crossed the veil between worlds to stand among us."
A cheer rose—soft, melodic, but fervent. Flowers were tossed. Petals drifted like snow.
Jax waved awkwardly. "Hi. Uh. Thanks. Really appreciate the welcome. I'm just… happy to be here. Not dead. Anymore."
More cheers. Someone started a chant in Elvish. It sounded suspiciously like a hymn.
Thalindra turned to him, eyes shining. "Tonight you rest as our honored guest. Tomorrow, the council will speak of the shadows gathering in the east—the Demon Lord's scouts probe our borders. But tonight… tonight is for welcome."
She gestured to a wide staircase leading up into one of the grandest oaks. "The Verdant Rest awaits. Our finest inn. Food. Bath. Rest. Whatever you require."
Jax's stomach growled audibly. He hadn't eaten since… well, since pizza crusts on Earth. "Food sounds amazing."
Elara's hand found his elbow—light, but possessive. "I will show you the way."
The inn was breathtaking: a multi-level platform built around the trunk, open-air dining areas with tables carved from living wood, vines forming natural railings. Lanterns hung from branches, casting warm golden light. The scent of roasting herbs, fresh bread, and spiced wine hit him like a drug.
A table had already been prepared at the center—long, laden with platters. Roasted quail glazed in honey. Root vegetables caramelized to perfection. Loaves of bread still steaming. And in the middle, a massive iron pot of stew bubbling gently over a low magical flame.
Jax's mouth watered.
Elara guided him to the seat of honor. The other elves—Liora, Mira, a handful of elders, and what seemed like half the village's eligible women—filled the benches around him.
Thalindra raised a crystal goblet. "To Jax, the light in our darkness!"
Glasses clinked. Cheers rang out.
Jax lifted his own goblet—some kind of berry wine, sweet and heady—and took a cautious sip. It tasted like summer and sin.
Then the stew was served.
A young server—another elf girl with auburn hair and freckles across her nose—ladled a generous portion into his bowl. Chunks of tender meat, vibrant greens, potatoes, carrots, all swimming in a thick, fragrant broth flecked with herbs.
"Made special for the Chosen One," she said shyly. "With love."
Jax smiled. "Thanks. Smells incredible."
He took the first spoonful.
Flavor exploded—rich, savory, with an undercurrent of something floral and warm. Almost spicy, but not hot. Comforting. Perfect.
He ate quickly. Too quickly. The bowl emptied before he realized.
Elara refilled it without asking.
He ate that one too.
By the third bowl, warmth spread through his chest. Not just from the food. Something deeper. A slow, liquid heat pooling low in his belly. His skin tingled. Heartbeat picked up.
Oh no.
He glanced down at the stew. Floating among the vegetables were tiny purple blossoms—delicate, star-shaped, faintly luminescent.
"Uh… what are those?" he asked, poking one with his spoon.
Elara followed his gaze. "Moonpetals. They grow near the springs. They enhance vitality. Strengthen the spirit."
Jax's spoon froze halfway to his mouth.
"Enhance… vitality."
Mira nodded enthusiastically from across the table. "Yes! Especially for warriors and… heroes. They make the blood sing."
The warmth intensified. Jax shifted in his seat. A flush crept up his neck. His pulse throbbed in his ears. Lower… lower still…
The pressure built. Familiar. Merciless. Arousal coiled tight, climbing higher than it had any right to on an empty stomach and three bowls of stew.
He clenched his jaw. Not now. Not here. Not in front of thirty staring elves.
Across the table, a potted flower sat as decoration—white lily-like blooms in a clay pot.
As the aphrodisiac hit peak effect, the lily closest to him visibly wilted. Petals drooped. Stem bent. In seconds it was a sad, floppy mess.
A soft gasp rippled through the nearby elves.
Elara's eyes widened. "The flower… it fades in the presence of overwhelming purity. A sign of the Chosen One's discipline!"
Mira clasped her hands. "Even the plants bow to his restraint!"
Jax stared at the wilted lily.
Discipline. Right. That's what we're calling magical blue-balling cockblock now.
The heat kept building. His skin felt too tight. Every brush of fabric against him was torture. Elara's knee bumped his under the table—accidental, innocent—and he nearly groaned aloud.
He forced a smile. "Yeah. Super disciplined. Tons of it. All the discipline."
Thalindra beamed. "Your strength honors us. Rest now. Tomorrow we speak of the path ahead."
The meal wound down. Elves drifted away, still whispering his name like a prayer. Elara lingered.
"I will escort you to your room," she said softly. Her ears were flushed pink again. "It is… private. High in the branches. Quiet."
Jax nodded numbly. "Lead on."
The room was stunning: a circular platform high in the oak, open to the stars on three sides, bed piled with furs and silk pillows, a small waterfall curtain providing privacy and a constant soothing murmur. Moonlight poured in like spilled milk.
Elara hesitated at the vine curtain. "If you need anything… anything at all… call for me. I will come."
Her voice was low. Hopeful.
Jax swallowed. "Thanks, Elara. Really."
She bowed—deep, graceful—and slipped away.
Alone at last, Jax collapsed onto the bed.
The aphrodisiac still simmered in his veins. The pressure hadn't eased. If anything, isolation made it worse. He stared at the canopy of leaves overhead, stars winking through.
He reached down—half-hearted, desperate.
Nothing.
Not even the courtesy of a twitch.
He laughed. Short. Broken.
"Fuck you, Lustara," he whispered to the night sky. "Fuck you and your rehab program."
Somewhere, far above, in a realm of clouds and starlight, a goddess raised her glass in a silent toast.
And laughed.