I was in Seclusion for so long that everyone forgot about me

At the edge of a jagged cliff, overlooking a small tribal human settlement nestled in the valley below, two formless beings sat in silence. One was a mass of swirling darkness, its shape ever-shifting like a tattered shroud caught in an unseen storm. The other shimmered with the cold, distant glow of a dying star, its light flickering as though on the verge of collapse.

The wind howled around them, tugging at the empty space they occupied, yet neither moved. Below, the settlement’s fires flickered weakly against the encroaching darkness of the night, yet the village itself was alive with celebration. Warriors feasted, reveling in their latest victory, their laughter echoing across the valley as they drank and danced, their hands still stained with the blood of the fallen.

The village was buzzing now after returning from yet another victory over another tribe, its people unaware of the ancient entities watching from above.

The dark one was the first to stir, its voice a hollow echo slicing through the wind like a whisper trapped in a narrow mountain pass. "They build, they burn, they rebuild. Endlessly repeating the same folly."

The fading star barely flickered in response. "And yet, they endure."

The dark shroud curled inward, as if contemplating. "For now."

The two watched in silence as the humans below celebrated, feasting and dancing without a care—oblivious to the hundreds they had slaughtered just hours before. They rejoiced in their conquest, their songs loud, their joy fleeting. A war won, a tribe conquered—yet unaware of the horror they had inflicted upon another.

“Why did you help them?” the shadow shattered the cold silence at last.

The response came as swiftly as the question, “Do I need a reason to help those in need.

The shadow scoffed, "Need? What need? Don’t you see what they did with your blessing? They twisted it for their own selfish desires."

“Like every other creature would have,” the star countered.

“No. Others would have stopped once their goal was fulfilled. But humans?” The shadow’s voice darkened, laced with contempt. “They turned against their own. Power was not enough—they wanted more. And when they could not take, they shunned. Their arrogance knows no bounds.”

The light drifted closer, "You see one side, I see another." It paused, as if reaching for something unseen. “The mother who took the gem—not for herself, but to protect her child. Selfless, free from greed.”

“And yet, instead of sharing its power, she hoarded it, grew stronger, and crushed those beneath her.” The shadow turned away, unable to look at the world below any longer. “Your gift did not bring salvation. It became a tool of oppression.”

A warmth pulsed through the air, the distant light unwavering. “Humans are short-lived. They will learn from their mistakes. Even if it takes time, the next generation will be better.”

The darkness bristled. "And if not? What if they turn out just like the ones before? I won’t stan—" it began, only to be cut off as the small celestial body shifted, rising into the air and positioning itself directly in front of her.

“I cannot stop you if you choose to unleash your wrath upon them. But neither can you stop me from helping them grow.” The words were soft yet immovable—a quiet defiance, almost a pout.

The shadowy shroud hesitated before letting out a crackling grating laugh. “We’ll see how long your naivety lasts. A year? A millennium? An eon? When they rip open your skin, smog the air, turn your gifts into weapons, and destroy all that you cherished… It is only a matter of time."

A sigh rippled through the cold night, like a whisper through rustling leaves. “You may be older than me, but you still project the sins of the past onto them. You know they fear you, don’t you? All of them. The one who lurks in the dark.”

For the first time, a smile—hollow, bitter—formed on the shrouded figure’s unseen lips. “And they worship you. The light that brings them false hope.” Then, after a long pause, she added in a distant voice, “I never asked to be feared. I simply am.”

“I don’t fear you…” the floating humanoid flickered somberly.

The darkness recoiled, almost involuntarily, as if shielding itself from an invisible touch. "And yet, you cannot come too close. You can never touch me. If you did, you would wither away."

"You know that isn't true," her counterpart said, attempting to lighten the mood.

“Neither is it false. And you know that, too.” The darkness shuddered. “If I only—”

"One day. One day, I'm sure you'll find a way," whispered the being, now resembling a swarm of endless fireflies. She flashed a fleeting smile—one only the shroud could see—before dissolving into countless shimmering lights, scattering in every direction.

I was sitting atop the carriage, humming softly. There wasn’t much else to do, anyway. A few days had passed since we left that village near the ziggurat. I had no idea what had happened after we departed that morning, but I didn’t really care. Perhaps I might have felt a tinge of guilt if something had befallen the moon elves—but then again, even that would have been fleeting. Everything was as it was meant to be.

The rhythmic creaking of wooden wheels against the dirt road blended with the faint murmurs of the caravan’s moon elves below. The occasional gust of wind rustled through the trees, carrying the scent of damp earth and crushed leaves. It was peaceful. And pretty boring.

“What’s got you so happy?” Aska’s ethereal voice broke through the quiet.

She had adjusted remarkably well to her new form over the past few days—much to the paladin’s irritation. For some reason, Aska seemed to take great pleasure in teasing her, appearing and disappearing like a mischievous spirit, whispering things that made the woman’s face darken with restrained fury.

I looked up at the small bird form Aska had chosen for now—a delicate creature of pale, ghostly feathers—and sighed.

“Why do you always have to ask things like that?” I muttered, letting myself fall onto my back to stare up at the sky. The clouds drifted lazily above, untouched by the worries of the world below. For a moment, I imagined myself among them, weightless, unbound.

Aska landed on my chest, tilting her tiny head. “Because seeing you happy feels... uncanny. I can’t remember you ever being like this in all our countless encounters. Sullen? Sure. But humming? Watching clouds? No, that’s giving me the heebie-jeebies.”

I huffed out a breath, watching as she hopped a little closer. I didn’t respond right away, too lost in thought.

She was right—I was too happy. But I couldn’t tell why. The cause was obviously the System messing with me, but it felt different this time. No memory relapses, no cracks in the seals. So why was my mood so strangely light?

A flicker of something unfamiliar stirred in my chest, a warmth that didn’t belong.

An image flashed through my mind—a smile.

My heart stopped.

A crackling laugh erupted from my throat, a sound that would send shivers down the spine of even the most battle-hardened warrior. It was wrong—too raw, too unrestrained. A tune of madness filled the morning air, discordant, unraveling, echoing through the dew-kissed dawn like a requiem for something long forgotten.

But just as quickly as my emotions flared, the seals reasserted themselves, slamming into place like iron bars locking shut.

The laughter died in my throat, leaving behind an eerie silence.

Aska, who had caught glimpses of my thoughts through our shared connection, was staring at me in disbelief. Her form flickered, the small bird dissolving into a wisp of shifting mist before reforming, unsettled.

“W-Who was that?”

"Who was who?" I asked, my voice steady, distant.

“The… person,” she pressed.

I raised an eyebrow, but my own mind felt like it had been scrubbed clean.

“You really have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “My goddess… just what are you doing to yourself?”

For the first time in a long while, I had no answer.

Aska cursed, clearly irritated. “Okay, I'll drop it for now, but we have to talk about this at some point.”

“Why though?” I asked, utterly indifferent.

“Because you made yourself forget something important?! That’s not normal, that’s just—Goddess, no wonder you’re so fucked up.” She snarled.

I stifled a laugh. “You worry too much. If I forgot something, then it was because I deemed it necessary.”

“But that’s not—” she started, but I interrupted her.

“That’s not for you to decide. So drop it.” My tone left no room for argument.

Aska clearly wasn’t happy with the outcome, but she kept quiet. I had no idea why she was so insistent on discussing it later. It was pointless.

I didn’t need her to understand my point of view.

For mortals, forgetting important details in their lives was terrifying. But for me? It was the easiest way to keep going without losing sight of my goal—the annihilation of Anansi.

- - - - - -

"Could you please get down from there?" blurted that teeny tiny beacon of divine annoyance.

I looked down at her, unimpressed. "Be grateful that your divine patrons watch over you moon elves, otherwise..."

"Otherwise what?" she snapped, spite in her tone.

"Like a child," screeched Aska into my ear. She perched gracefully on my shoulder in a form I could only describe as a harpyja eagle with a hint of phoenix. Her feathers shimmered in deep indigo and molten gold, with ember-like wingtips that flickered as she moved. A regal crest crowned her head, and her long tail smoldered at the edges, glowing like the last embers of a dying fire. Her ethereal form shifted subtly between elemental states, a fitting form for one bearing the name of an Asche. She radiated an aura of authority and reverence, a presence that demanded respect from anyone who laid eyes upon her.

"I heard that," huffed Zary. "But please, get down. We're almost there, and the guards are patrolling the line. They don’t take kindly to people standing on carriages."

I raised my hand in mock surrender. "Alright, fine. We're coming down. Nothing wrong with stretching your legs a little."

Zary seemed genuinely relieved that I actually listened to her. Over the past few days, most people had kept their distance, except for Marika and Zary. I was a little disappointed that her mother had chosen fear over curiosity, but it was what it was. I couldn’t exactly blame her. Still, it was a shame—I would’ve loved to learn more about her magic. But it didn’t matter much now. We were nearing the city anyway.

With a smirk, I jumped down. Aska followed, her broad wings slowing our descent. I hadn't even landed yet when Marika came rushing up to me. For her age, she was surprisingly fast on her feet.

"Esteemed guest, we'll be reaching the line soon. From there, it might take a while before we reach the gate. The guards will be making their initial rounds before the final inspection. I'd like you to sit with me in the front carriage when they arrive so they’ll be prepared for us ahead of time. That way, we won’t have to wait as long," she explained.

"So you want to use me as a fast-track pass because I look important," I deduced.

The moon elf nodded without hesitation.

I sighed but followed her to the front. I couldn’t really be mad at her for using me like this. I’d practically asked for it.

During the short time we had spent together, I’d grown somewhat fond of Marika. Even if her admiration for the witches bordered on excessive, her enthusiasm for alchemy reignited my own curiosity about magi-craft and how much it had evolved over the years. She had even given me a reference for getting into the more discreet stores that specialized in such things—ones where I'd have to pay significantly less.

The idea of fixing the high energy consumption issue that kept the Abyssal Depths from exploding was thrilling. My useless creation might just end up being my ticket out of this world.

"Stop smiling like that, you might scare the guards," crackled Aska.

I shoved her off my shoulder, watching as she flailed dramatically before regaining her composure and perching back in the exact same spot. The old elf beside me merely rolled her eyes, already accustomed to our antics.

To an outsider, we might have seemed too relaxed, maybe even carefree, but given how powerful I was, there was no reason to be anything else.

I was still surprised by how well I got along with Aska. I'd doubted we could ever be friends, but at least she didn’t loathe me from the bottom of her heart anymore. Right now, we were more like a witch and her familiar.

'We’re being watched,' Aska noted through our soul-link.

I glanced up. 'Someone’s scrying on us. It’s faint, but definitely there. Looks like someone isn’t too pleased that Marika made it to the city.'

With a snap of my fingers, I unraveled the magic that had been spying on us. Marika must have noticed the faint disturbance.

"Is everything alright?" she asked.

I waved a hand dismissively. "You weren’t lying when you said the nobles aren’t thrilled about your return to the capital."

Marika pinched the bridge of her nose, letting out a slow sigh. She didn’t need me to explain further—she already knew exactly what they had done.

Not long after, the dirt road gave way to smooth granite. The new path was nearly twice as wide, lined with massive stone slabs that made the ride far smoother.

Twenty minutes later, the wall came into view. And so did the queue.

It was a busy day. Dozens of carriages lined the road ahead, creeping forward at a sluggish pace. More were arriving behind us, the flow of merchants and travelers constant. Trade was thriving.

What caught my attention was an unused extra lane between the incoming and outgoing traffic.

"It’s the lane for nobles and important guests," Marika answered, noticing my curiosity. She smirked. "And if we’re lucky, it’s ours too."

Fifteen more minutes passed before we reached the back of the queue.

The carriage in front of us was undoubtedly filled with travelers—not the adventurous kind. Their clothes were too simple, too worn, and they carried no weapons of any kind. Probably job-seekers.

When they noticed me—or rather, noticed Aska—their faces paled.

She shrugged mentally, but I could tell she was mildly offended by their reaction.

The line crawled forward, and I was just about to drift off into thought when Marika signaled the arrival of the guards.

If I had to describe them, they were pikemen. Their armor was light but flamboyantly decorated—designed more to impress than protect. They moved down the line, glancing at each carriage, assessing each traveler.

I pulled Nelua’s latest book from my bag—the one she said had all the advanced stuff. Nobles, slang, formal grammar. I flipped through a few pages, skimmed a paragraph about trade etiquette, and shut it again.

Didn’t need it anymore.

I understood everything just fine now. Spoken, written, even their weird metaphors that barely made sense. What I hadn’t picked up from the caravan, I got through Asche and her outdated knowledge of dialects. Another bonus of the soul-link. But honestly… most of it was probably buried in my head since before seclusion.

I tucked the book back into the bag beside me and leaned against the side of the wagon, waiting.

It didn’t take long for them to notice me and Aska. They exchanged a glance, then approached.

Only once they stood in front of the carriage did they acknowledge Marika’s existence—with a frown.

"What’s your business here, moon elf?"

Marika remained unfazed. "The usual. Trading alchemist goods, restocking supplies, and meeting the witch representative in the capital."

The words ‘alchemist’ and ‘witch’ made the guards visibly stiffen. Their expressions shifted as they exchanged uneasy glances, flustering into forced smiles.

One was about to speak, but Marika cut him off with a dangerously sweet smile. "Oh, and we’re hosting a Matriarch of the Jaegers."

The guards paled. Their gazes snapped to me, their eyes widening.

And then Aska let out a loud, thundering screech.

That was enough.

Without another word, the guards muttered a quick apology and hurried back to the gate.

Marika laughed. "Now we wait."

- - - - - -

It didn’t take another ten minutes before a knight on horseback rode up. He took a quick look at me, then gestured for Marika to follow him. So we—and the whole caravan—moved into the nobles' lane.

"That’s gonna save us the whole day," noted Aska. And I had to agree, this certainly was convenient. Marika, you cunning girl.

Passing by the jealous stares of onlookers, we eventually reached the gate. I hadn’t noticed when I teleported out of the city, but now that I saw it again, Queen’s Gate was actually quite beautiful.

The passage itself was around fifty feet wide and a hundred and ten feet tall, with a massive steel gate suspended above. On either side, two towering structures—easily over two hundred and sixty feet tall—loomed over everything, their ballistas aimed outward like silent sentinels. Soldiers patrolled above, their watchful eyes scanning the endless queue.

Everything was built from a stone that looked suspiciously like marble, but I could feel something else within it—mana-infused, enhanced with a material I didn’t recognize. Exciting~.

Gold, statues, and intricate engravings transformed the gate into a work of art rather than a mere entrance. Climbing roses wove through the architecture, adding an almost delicate contrast to its imposing grandeur. Queen’s Gate didn’t just serve as protection. It was a statement—an extravagant display of the city’s wealth.

Eventually, we reached the entrance. Beneath where the gate would shut, a traffic stop had been built in. Compared to the grandeur surrounding it, it looked rather dull—likely designed to be easily rebuilt should the gate ever need to close fully.

As our carriage stopped, a tall knight in heavy plate armor approached, removing his helmet. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, with short brown hair and a scar running over his left eye.

"Marika!" he greeted. "I’m surprised you’re still alive."

Marika smirked. "Bensin, still as rude as ever."

The knight let out a low chuckle. "Good to see you, old girl. I was worried when I heard about those elf hunters lurking near the outer villages. Those nobles are getting greedy."

She scoffed. "When have human nobles ever not been greedy?"

Bensin sighed. "Ever since they passed that damn law, it’s been harder for common folk to climb the ranks. A damn shame, if you ask me. I’m pushing back against this bullshit as much as I can, but... I’d rather not end up stabbed in some back alley for my troubles."

His gaze shifted toward me. "Anyway, I hear you have a certain guest who requires special attention?"

Marika nodded, gesturing toward me. "She saved us from bandits—killed all but their leader, whom we have with us. She is Aska von Asche, a Jaeger Matriarch. The goddess herself sent her our way."

Bensin’s expression hardened as his gaze settled on me.

He stepped around the carriage, approaching with measured strides before bowing in the proper knightly fashion.

"Welcome to the capital, Matriarch. I apologize for the inconvenience, but we need to verify your identity—discreetly. I request that you follow me into the tower. There, we can also discuss the bounty on the bandit you captured. If that is acceptable to you."

"Very well," I replied, then turned to Marika. "It seems our paths will split here, for now. I have some business in the city to attend to after this, but if I decide to find you later, where will you be staying?"

The old elf seemed momentarily surprised by my sudden departure from the group but didn’t protest. She stepped closer, lowering her voice.

"You can find me in the western district at the inn 'Dancing Tails.' And... thank you, esteemed guest. From the bottom of my heart. May the goddesses light your path."

With that, I jumped down and followed Bensin toward the massive tower.

As I glanced back, I saw Marika smiling and waving as the guards began inspecting the caravan.

"Don’t worry, they won’t bother them. Not with the risk of angering a Matriarch," Bensin reassured me.

As we entered the tower, countless eyes turned towards us—or rather, towards Aska. I guess her choosing this form was the right move.

"I’m surprised you let us through so easily," I commented.

Bensin chuckled. "When my soldiers kept rushing back, saying they saw a high-level beast they couldn’t identify sitting on the shoulder of a young woman traveling with Marika—who was claiming she had a Jaeger Matriarch with her—every alarm bell in my head went off."

He shook his head. "Marika wouldn’t joke about something like this. Still, I have to confirm your identity. Sure, you could just stroll into the city, and no one could stop you—but you came with her, so I doubt that’s your goal. And as Captain of Queen’s Gate, I have my duties."

I smirked. "You’re right. I have no interest in causing a fuss. And I’d appreciate it if word of my arrival didn’t spread too quickly. For everyone’s sake."

The captain gulped. "Yes, ma’am."

A few minutes later, we reached his office. Two desks sat inside—one large and centered, stacked with paperwork, and another to the right, hidden beneath a precarious mountain of loose documents that had a young woman hidden behind them.

Upon noticing us, she jumped up to salute—only to knock over the entire stack of papers in the process.

"C-Captain!"

Bensin pinched the bridge of his nose. "Kathrine, how many times have I told you not to pile everything like that?"

"S-Sorry!" she stammered, scrambling to gather the fallen pages.

"Apologies for the state of this office," Bensin sighed. "These new laws are a… nightmare. We’re drowning in paperwork just to keep up with regulations. Lemme just get your proof of identification—"

"Wasn’t I supposed to prove my identity first?" I interrupted.

The captain paused, the gears in his head visibly turning before realization struck.

"Ah... I’m so sorry, Matriarch. I’m exhausted. Things have been chaotic since that strange earthquake. No one knows what caused it, but we traced the epicenter back to the temple in the city center. Some mages think unstable mana-crystals are involved, but honestly? No one knows for sure."

He took a deep breath. "The verification process is simple. Just show me a spell unique to your family’s magic. If needed, we have a training room."

I grinned. "Are you familiar with the Asche Family?"

The captain hesitated. "No... but we do have records."

He retrieved an old book from his desk and flipped through the pages before stopping at the one he needed.

"Asche. A branch family of the Winters. Declared extinct..." His eyes lifted, meeting mine.

I smiled. "The Winters exaggerated. They tried to erase us, but our destruction was greatly overstated. What does it say about our magic?"

He swallowed. “Ah, right,” Bensin muttered, still baffled as he skimmed the book. “"The Asches were known for their ash magic. So far, their abilities were never successfully replicated. The Asches could manipulate the weather—making it snow at will—but their most feared ability was something called the ‘Aschenfall.’” He paused, his expression darkening. “A magic used for… war.”

His eyes scanned further down the page, his grip on the book tightening. After a moment, he exhaled sharply and closed it.

“Alright, I won’t ask you about anything else written in here. But I will ask this—please, do not use that dreadful war spell inside the city.” He shook his head. “By the goddess… you could probably fight on the frontlines and turn the tides of war by yourself.” His golden eyes flicked up to meet mine. “But you must be here for a reason.”

Bensin hesitated, carefully choosing his next words. “I—can you demonstrate your ash magic in a way that shows its effects without causing harm or destruction? The book was rather... specific about what it can do.”

“Sure,” I replied with an overly friendly smile, plucking a piece of paper from the table.

A single ashen snowflake materialized above it, drifting down slowly. The moment it made contact—the paper ignited.

Kathrine yelped as the parchment burst into flames, rapidly decomposing into nothing but ashen fragments. Even Bensin took an uneasy step back, his expression flickering between awe and barely concealed fear.

“Yeah... that checks out,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair before straightening. “You’ve proven your identity. I—uh—apologize for the delay. I’ll finalize the paperwork right away.”

His hands moved swiftly, writing up the document in less than a minute before pressing an official seal onto the parchment.

Before he could hand it to me, I spoke. “Would it be possible for me to take that book? I’m rather curious about what’s written in it.”

Bensin blinked, then nodded. “S-sure, it’s yours.” He hesitated before adding, “We also need to process the bandit's identity and verify the bounty on his head. Once we're done, I’ll have the reward sent directly to the Adventurers’ Guild. It shouldn’t take more than two hours. You won’t need to come back—just show them this document, and they’ll handle the rest. Does that work for you?”

I nodded.

He paused, then straightened.

“Then I officially welcome you to King’s Garden.”

I awoke to the clanking of chains, the lamentations of the others, and the sharp crack of a whip against bare flesh whilst torturers barked orders for silence. 

Would today be the day? Would someone finally come to my cell and release me from this torment, this loneliness?

What had I done to deserve such injustice? By what right did others elevate themselves and deem me less valuable? Did I not have the right to live? Was I not allowed to be happy too?

But as usual, nothing happened. The sounds faded, swallowed by the familiar crushing silence. Only my own pitiful, uneven sobs disturbed the cool stillness of my prison now and then.

I wanted to know how long I had been here—since that night when the men stormed into our house and ra…

Footsteps. 

Heavy. Sluggish. Each step a weight against the suffocating air. They would pass me by like always, leaving me drowning in deeper disappointment. Closer. Closer still.

Then, suddenly—they stopped.

M-my door.

The person was at my door.

Were they finally going to kill me?

Please, let me die at last.

The iron creaked as the door swung open, and a fat little man waddled inside. Greasy hair, a hideous mustache, noble clothes draped over his bloated form—just like the men my mother used to whisper about in her stories.

His stench hit me first—too flowery, too thick, too unnatural. It clung to the damp air, sickly sweet, suffocating.

Then he spoke, and something even worse hit me—the stench of rot.

"Soon, you'll finally be auctioned," he huffed, smug despite his labored breath. "I'm sure we'll find you a…" he paused, licking his lips, "suitable buyer. Someone like you is worth a fortune. Especially since you're still a virgin. Expect some… extra attention in the coming days." 

A sickening jolt shot through me, and my stomach clenched violently, nausea clawing its way up my throat.

I whispered, "Why can't I just die…"