Chapter 20: Village Below the Mist VIII

Chapter 20: 20: Village Below the Mist VIII --- When she finally stepped out from the trees and into the clearing, Sera was the first to spot her. The priestess raised a hand, her voice light with surprise. "Elara." John looked up from the stone markers he was drawing into the dirt. The wind carried her name like a leaf tumbling through still air. His gaze met hers. The woman who emerged from the mist was unlike the others in the village. Her steps were soundless. Her eyes are sharp. Her presence, unsettling in its quiet strength. She kept her face still, posture relaxed, as if she were a mere passerby. "I was passing through," she said, her tone measured. "Saw the smoke. I thought it might be a fire or something." John didn’t speak immediately. He studied her. The way her hand never strayed far from the hilt tucked against her hip. The subtle weight in her voice. And yet, he couldn’t place her. Sera stood, brushing her skirt and stepping slightly forward. "Elara, this is John." "I know who he is," Elara said without hesitation. John tilted his head. Her voice held no malice. But no warmth either. He met her gaze without blinking. "Who is she?" he asked inwardly. "How did she know who I am? I don’t remember meeting her." She stepped closer, stopping just a few feet from him. "You’re not from here," she said plainly. "Not from anywhere nearby. But you’ve chosen to stay. Why?" John answered without pause. "Because I found a place worth staying for." His voice was low, firm. Then, with a touch of curiosity, he added, "Did we meet before? How do you know me?" Elara’s eyes shifted briefly toward Sera. Something unreadable passed across her face. "I saw you in the temple. With Sera. I heard your speech." She stepped around him slightly, inspecting the chalk-like lines he’d drawn on the stone. Her boot crushed a dry leaf with a whisper. "Words are easy," she said. "Convincing, even. But this land is fragile. If you step wrong, you might crack the stone beneath your feet." John’s expression remained calm. "I have no interest in ruling. Or taking. I want to build. And if anyone threatens what I build, I will fight back. And maybe bury them." There was a long moment of silence. Then, without warning, something small and red shot from his cloak. A blur of color. Fizz burst into the air like a launched firework, his stubby wings fluttering wildly, spinning once with dramatic flair. "Oh, how amazing," he sang. "Another one with an attitude. Let me guess. Forest ranger. Tragic backstory. Secret crush on my master. Are you jealous?" Elara blinked. So did Sera. Both stared as the creature zipped around them in energetic spirals. Fizz looped once around Elara’s head. "I like the boots," he said with a smirk. "Shame about the permanent scowl, though. Your expression looks like someone replaced your breakfast with something disgusting. Like raw goat cheese and guilt." John exhaled slowly and ran a hand over his face. "This is Fizz. My contracted spiritual beast." Elara’s gaze followed the flying red puffball like a hawk tracking prey. She did not draw her blade, but her fingers hovered close. "I can see that," she said dryly. "But how is it talking? As far as I know, only spiritual humanoid familiars can speak." She tilted her head, eyes narrowing. "Yours looks like a cute fluffy ball." Fizz hovered just inches from her nose. "Oooh, I like this one," he whispered. "She’s got knives hidden in those boots. Sharp ones. Poisoned, probably. And she’s not denying it. Suspicious." Elara did not move. She was clearly unsettled. Fizz leaned closer with a mischievous grin. "Are you here to threaten my big bro here? Because fair warning. If you try anything funny, I will bite you. Then put you on John’s bed. We’ll see if you’re still so serious in the morning." John reached up and caught Fizz mid-air with practiced speed, stuffing him back into his cloak with a firm shove. "Not helping. Stop saying things like that." From inside the cloak came a muffled voice. "I am always helping. This is emotional support. You are lonely. I was trying to set you up." Elara raised one eyebrow. "I take it back. It is not that cute. It’s insane." Sera stifled a laugh behind her hand. "John, your pet is... very unique." John didn’t reply. He turned back toward the moss-covered wall and adjusted a few bricks absently. "Miss Elara," he said, voice neutral. "You’re welcome to stay." "But I didn’t ask for permission," she replied. "I have some business with Sera." Her words were cool, but not harsh. She studied John one more time. Her gaze swept over his posture, his blade, the forge’s flickering light behind him. Something glinted in her eyes. Not judgment. Something older. More cautious. "Your aura is unstable," she said at last. "You carry more than just power. Something in you burns unevenly." John blinked. "What does that mean?" But Elara had already turned. Sera followed after her without argument. "I’ll be watching you and your pet, John," Elara said as she walked away. Her voice echoed across the quiet clearing. "Sera, come with me. We need to talk." John watched them go. Then, from beneath his collar, Fizz poked out a single eye. "She called your aura unstable. That’s rich coming from the woman who smells like smoke and bad decisions." He floated out again and perched on a cracked stone. "I’m going to call her the smoky cabbage girl. Fits her vibe." John let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Then, quietly, he laughed. Just once. Fizz grinned proudly. "There it is. The first laugh. I am a healer of hearts. You may thank me with snacks later." John shook his head, lips still curled in that rare smile. Fizz leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially. "She likes you. Both girls do." "Ignore," John muttered.