Chapter 11 Fresh fruit!
Eli studied Lyriel for a moment before realizing she wasn’t listening at all. He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he forced himself to let go of the anger. She was badly hurt, and he could see that clearly.
Stepping closer, he gently asked her to show him her palms. Lyriel hesitated, but he took her wrist carefully, turning her palm upward. The burn was already swollen and red. His face tightened in worry and guilt. Without another word, he guided her to sit by the table.
He grabbed a small clay bowl from the shelf and poured cool water into it. Then he knelt in front of her, dipping a clean cloth into the water before pressing it gently against her palm. The coolness made her wince at first, then sigh as the sting dulled.
Eli's touch was unexpectedly gentle. He worked slowly, wiping the burn as if afraid of hurting her more. When he noticed her staring at him, he looked away, clearing his throat.
"You shouldn’t have touched it," he said, his tone softer now. "That blade isn't meant for… normal hands."
Lyriel swallowed, "I'm sorry," she whispered, "I never wanted to make you angry. I just… I was curious."
Eli paused, the damp cloth hovering over her skin. His brows drew together, but she couldn't tell if it was frustration or concern.
"I'm not angry," he said quietly. "Just worried. That thing burns anything it doesn't recognize. You could've been hurt worse."
Lyriel looked down at her lap feeling guilty and remorseful. Was Mira right?
Was Eli already tired of her? Annoyed? Would he someday grow bored and send her away like she was nothing?
The fear slipped into her voice before she could hide it. "I'll be more careful," she murmured. "I don't want to… be a problem."
Eli's hand stilled. For a moment, he said nothing, just watched her with a strange, unreadable look. Then he wrapped her hand in a soft cloth and tied it gently.
"You're not a problem, Lyriel," he said, "Just… don't scare me like that again."
Lyriel cradled her wrapped hand for a moment, the warmth of Eli's words still lingering in the air. But her eyes drifted to the drawer, where the dagger was. Curiosity tugged at her again, stronger now that she knew it wasn't just any ordinary blade.
"Eli…" she began softly. "What is that dagger? Why does it burn people like that?"
He didn't look at her at first. His jaw clenched as he wiped his wet hands on a cloth, avoiding her eyes.
"I stole it," he said, too quickly. "From someone."
Lyriel blinked. Something in his tone didn't feel right. The way he said it—flat, stiff, as if trying to cut the conversation short before it even began. She tilted her head, studying him.
"You're lying," she whispered. "Please… just tell me the truth."
His eyes snapped toward her, sharp and irritated. "Lyriel, drop it."
"But..."
"I said drop it." His voice came out rough, far colder than anything he'd shown her before. He took the dagger from the drawer, grabbed his cloak from the chair and turned away from her. He headed for the door without even looking back.
The door slammed.
Lyriel flinched. She stared at the empty space he left behind. She wanted to call out to him, to ask him where he was going, to ask if she had done something wrong. But the words wouldn't leave her mouth. Not when he had spoken to her like that.
So she sat in silence. After all, she was only a guest... nope! A lost girl sheltered by the almighty and grumpy Eli. She should be more than grateful he didn't turn her into a slave.
Eli pushed open the cottage door and stepped into the cold night. The dagger was clutched tightly in his hand, as he walked into the dark forest.
He stopped once he thought he was far enough from the cottage… far enough from her... Lyriel. He didn't want her to see him like this, restless, angry and frightened by something he pretended wasn't real. He lifted the dagger to look at it, and the blade flared, a sudden, vicious glow that cut through the darkness.
Eli froze, he didn't even have time to curse. A piercing, inhuman scream ripped through his skull. Not one voice, but many, layered and twisted, so sharp and violent, he dropped to his knees instantly.
The noise grew sharper, drilling into the deepest part of his mind and reminding him of his greatest fears. The dagger fell to the ground and he clutched his head with both hands,
"Stop!" His voice cracked. "Not now… please..."
But the dagger glowed brighter and the voices rose with it.
They weren't human. He knew that instantly. Nothing born of flesh could scream like that. It felt like claws scraping along his thoughts, ripping through memories he hadn't touched in years.
He dug his fingers into the soil, trembling violently, "… help me! Make it stop! Ahhh!"
A blinding light descended on him and he collapsed fully, the cold forest floor knocking the air from his lungs.
The next morning, Lyriel hurried down the path that led to the village, her wrapped hand still hurting badly. She had the power to heal herself in an instant, but Eli… what would he say if he discovered the wound had vanished without a trace?
She stopped in her tracks, torn by the decision before her, the pain was unbearable. Lowering her gaze to her palm, she slowly removed the cloth and whispered a magic word. It took quite some time to heal completely, and Lyriel wondered what had gone wrong. Her magic was supposed to work instantly. Was she losing her power the same way she had lost her wings?
Perhaps it was inevitable. The human world held no magic, and deep down she had known there was a chance she would lose everything she was.
Sighing deeply, she continued towards the village. She had already sacrificed so much to be here, yet somehow, she still believed it was worth it...
Mira was leaning against her usual spot beside a basket of fruit, humming to herself. When she saw Lyriel approaching, her eyebrows shot up.
"Well, look who came running," Mira teased, brushing dust from her skirt. "Did something happen?"
Lyriel didn't hesitate. She stepped closer, voice low and frustrated. "Eli has been so rude these days. He barely talks to me. He's hardly ever home. And yesterday…" She swallowed, looking away. "He yelled at me over a dagger and left the cottage...he hasn't returned"
Mira's lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. "I warned you… didn't I?"
Lyriel didn't answer. She just wrapped her arms around herself, feeling sad.
Mira leaned in, her voice soft and coaxing. "Men like him get bored fast. If you don't give them a reason to stay, they drift. You want him to look at you again, don't you?"
Lyriel's cheeks heated, and she nodded, ashamed of how desperate she was.
"I'm ready to take your advice." She said.