Chapter 18: the elf son

She noticed that he had already passed out, but his grip on the sword remained tight despite his unconsciousness.

As they continued to carry Aerovind, the woman noticed the sword he clung to. She reached out and gently tried to pry his fingers loose, but his grip was strong even in his unconscious state.

"He must have gone through a lot to hold onto this sword so tightly," she murmured to her companion.

The man's eyes flicked from Aerovind's unconscious body to the sword he held. He gave a small nod of confirmation.

"You make a valid point, Sarah, but I still have a sense of unease about this boy."

The sun had set by the time they reached the gates of the nearby town. The guards recognized the woman and the man carrying the limp form of the young boy.

"What happened, Sarah?" one of the guards asked as they entered.

"We came across him in the woods, unconscious and wounded. He was defending himself against one of the Morang fellas," she replied grimly.

The guard's eyes widened. "He fought against a Morang and survived?"

Sarah gave a somber nod. "Yes, and I suspect that encounter caused him a great deal of trauma. He mentioned a Morang named Thorgar, who I think is the one killing alchemists.

Swiftly seek out the healer, then hasten back to your dwelling and secure your entrances. There is a monster among us, a killer. Another life has been claimed, leaving us guards feeling overwhelmed."

The guard murmured, his voice strained with worry. "The responsibility now rests on Detective Craptts' shoulders. I share this grim news with you, Sarah because women seem to be the preferred prey of this psychopath."

His words hung heavily in the hushed air between them.

Sarah nodded grimly, her eyes never leaving the unconscious boy in their arms. "I understand. We'll do what we can to help and ensure our own safety. Thank you for informing us."

The three of them made their way to the healer's dwelling, Aerovind's sword still clutched tightly in his hand.

Just when they approached, the healer emerged from the building, her eyes widening at the sight of the unconscious kid.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.

Sarah replied, "He was fighting against a Morang."

The healer let out a gasp, "A Morang? And still intact, this is truly admirable."

She took Aerovind's limp body from their arms, her gentle touch causing him to stir slightly. "I'll do what I can to help him," she assured them.

"Meanwhile," the healer's voice echoed, her figure vanishing into her humble abode, "keep your senses alert.

A menace lurks within our midst, Sarah. My neighbor Dorothy met her untimely demise yesterday while you were beyond the town's boundaries.

It appears that it's not just the beasts we should fear but also ourselves. Until tomorrow, dear."

The healer vanished, leaving Sarah and Mark to continue their walk home. "Sarah," Mark said, "I think we should go to Xerise, the kingdom."

Sarah looked at him, her brow furrowed. "Why would we do that?"

Mark's response was grave: "We can't stay here any longer. Your father has put you in my care, and I won't forgive myself if anything…"

Sarah's head shook with determination. "Mark, this is my home. I can't just leave it behind like that. Plus, I can handle myself if anything happens." She took a moment to ponder before continuing, "I promise nothing will happen to me."

Mark sighed, knowing that arguing with her further would be futile. "Alright, Sarah. If that's what you wish, now let's eat a meat stew. It's on me."

Meanwhile, in the healer's hut.

The healer carefully laid Aerovind down on her examination table, her eyes never leaving the firm grip he maintained on the sword.

Using a tool, she carefully pried open his fingers and exposed the deep gashes on his palm caused by the fight.

The sight was bloody and gruesome, with holes revealing muscle tissue both in his arms and feet.

She winced at the sight and quickly set about cleaning and bandaging his wounds.

As she continued her work, her thoughts raced, filled with questions. Who was this boy, and how had he survived such severe injuries?

After finishing his bandages, the healer applied a soothing balm to his injuries, her movements gentle despite her urgency.

The wounds were deep, but with proper care, he would heal in due time, she thought to herself.

As she stepped back to assess her work, a soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

The shopkeeper, a young girl with big doe-like eyes, peeked inside the room.

"Sasha... um… there's a new patient," she said quietly.

The healer let out a heavy sigh, trying to hide her exhaustion for the young girl's sake.

"Is it that serious, Lily?" She asked before turning back to Aerovind.

"I have a lot to do, and it's already nighttime. If it's just a mild fever, tell them to drink coconut stew. It should help make them feel better."

Lily bit her lip, considering the healer's words. After a moment, she hesitatedly replied, "It's me... mother; if I told you a secret, please can you promise me you won't tell it to anyone?"

The healer's brows furrowed, but she nodded nonetheless. "Very well, Lily. I promise."

Lily leaned in closer and whispered, "I... I need an abortion."

Shock was evident in the healer's widened eyes, her hands trembling with fear as she spoke.

"This is illegal, Lily!"

"I'm aware, I know! But I can't... I can't bear a child, especially one that's not human, an elf. Please, you're my only chance."

The healer sighed and motioned for Lily to follow her into another room.

Closing the door behind them, she sat down and gestured for Lily to do the same.

"Tell me everything," she said, her face now filled with empathy and concern.

Lily wrung her hands nervously in her lap. "It's not something I'm proud of, Lady Healer. But... I had no choice."

The healer nodded silently, encouraging Lily to continue. Her eyes held a deep understanding, as if she'd heard stories similar to this all too often.

"I was captured by a group of elven bandits from the north during the last raid... They kept me prisoner for days."

Lily started, her voice just above a whisper and her eyes locked at a point on the well-worn wooden floor.