Whispers

Dawn. The dead of night.

The hour when everyone... no, when nearly everyone had sunk into sleep.

Two elves made their way unhurried down the corridor of the Imperial Palace, and the silent hallway filled with the ring of their heels.

Click. Click.

Click. Click.

Then the ceaseless rhythm of heels came to a stop, and a different sound rose in its place.

Knock, knock. Knock, knock.

The door of solid hardwood answered with a low, resonant boom — two knocks, delivered twice in a row — and before long, it swung slowly open.

"That was quick of you."

"...I was starting to think you weren't coming at all, you were so late."

"My apologies for the delay. There were... circumstances that required seeing to."

"...Please, come in."

When the brief exchange ended and the door swung shut, moonlight still seeped faintly through the narrowing seam.

"So. What is it you wished to say?"

"Isn't that a touch stiff of you? I am a guest, you know — might I at least have some tea?"

"I am not so gracious as to call someone who comes barging in uninvited in the dead of night a 'guest.'"

With that, I settled onto the edge of the bed and turned the lamps up bright — and the two elves came into full view. There was Sylvia, her jade hair as beautiful as ever, her face a perfect blank, and beside her the woman who had served as her escort the day before.

"So, this time... what is it you need?"

"You don't seem to be trying very hard to hide how tiresome you find this, are you?"

"...."

"Well, no matter. As it happens, there is something else I need you to do."

"A request?"

"It benefits you as well — strictly speaking, I suppose you would call it a trade."

Honestly, I wanted no part of it. For all I knew, this would turn out to be another bizarre affair, same as last time. Even so, I decided I would at least hear them out, so instead of throwing them out of my room, I waited — and as though she had predicted exactly that reaction, Sylvia drew a green bead from inside her cloak. An orb of green far deeper and more vivid than the jade ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of her own hair.

The motion was so utterly natural that, for a heartbeat, I spared the orb no suspicion at all. And in that instant, my consciousness was sucked away somewhere once again.

"Wh...at... is..."

"This is the trial you wanted so badly. Pass through it safely and return... and I shall be able to give you as many spirit stones as you could wish for."

"Son... of... a... bitch..."

"...May the blessing of the Great Forest unfold before you."

And the expression on Sylvia's face in that moment was more human than any she had ever worn.

When I came to my senses, the first things my eyes found were leaves growing as though embroidered across the heavens, and the azure sky spread out above them. The leaves clustered thick upon the colossal tree standing right beside me, and far off in that azure distance, something like glimmering grains of white sand twinkled.

Slowly, I held my head and rose, replaying what had just happened — and profanity spilled out of my mouth all on its own. Aimed at Sylvia, who had shipped me off to who-knows-where without a single word of explanation.

"...Fuck. Where the hell is this place now—"

"Hello there?"

And that stream of curses crumbled apart at the lovely voice sounding from beside me.

I turned toward it and found a woman standing there, running her fingers gently along the tree. Long braided hair with a brown pin tucked neatly into it, and hair of an in-between shade — deeper than jade, yet not quite green. Her sunrise-yellow eyes carried, inexplicably, a warmth like dawn light, and all around her grinned spirits far younger-looking than any I had ever seen. Their numbers were no joke, either — enough of them to give the illusion of a locust swarm on the march.

Whatever it was they found so delightful, they kept grinning away until the woman waved a few times, at which point they vanished as though they had never been. I blinked, and she was somehow seated at my side.

"This is the first time we've met, isn't it, you and I?"

"...Who might you be?"

"I am the one who has placed all her hopes in you, child."

If a woman you were meeting for the very first time today told you she had staked every hope she had on you — what ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠reaction would that call forth?

"....?"

"Heheh. Now that is quite a face you're making."

The answer would differ from person to person, no doubt; in my case, my face simply froze, scowl and all. The woman, looking thoroughly entertained, covered her mouth and laughed with demure restraint.

"So... who are you, really?"

"My, my. Slower on the uptake than I expected...? And here I was sure you'd catch on right away."

With that, she strolled off into the distance once more and laid a hand against the colossal tree I had seen upon first arriving. From the place her fingers touched, gold spread across the bark like paint, until at last the fresh, colossal tree had transformed into a thing of beautiful gold — and with it, a brilliant golden radiance poured outward in every direction.

The light was so warm, so utterly soothing, that I very nearly let go of everything then and there. I pressed a hand to my own chest to steady myself — and the woman let out that gentle voice.

"My name is... Merina Restonil."

"...."

"Queen of the elves of this generation... and the shaman of the World Tree, the Divine Tree."

"...A shaman...?"

To my question she gave a nod, and with it her affirmation — and as if to answer the question itself, the golden tree breathed out its warm light once more. The brilliance made me shut my eyes for a moment; when I opened them, another golden figure stood before me. Wondering if my eyes had deceived me, I rubbed them and looked again — she no longer gleamed gold, but she was still there.

Perhaps the sudden burst of golden light had simply stolen my gaze and painted her in gold. But the woman before me now was... nature itself. She radiated from every inch of her a clarity so pure and pristine you might think nature had been given human form. And yet my body, on pure instinct, was backing slowly away, putting distance between us — and at the sight of me doing so, her lips slowly parted.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, child..."

"...."

For an instant, I froze. Because it did not feel like a voice of this world. I stumbled backward in alarm. Because my entire body had resonated with nothing more than a voice.

"O Child of Defying Heaven, who would defy the fate the gods have decreed as they please."

"...!"

My body locked up once more — not with awe or reverence, but with sheer disbelief and bewilderment. By the time I collected myself, wariness was pouring off me like madness, and a keenly honed blade had somehow found its way into my right hand.

"Calm yourself, child. I am not your enemy."

"...And how am I meant to believe that?"

"I can hardly force you to... that much is true."

If there was one lesson all my lives had hammered into me, it was this: never trust another soul lightly. In my life as an assassin, I had been betrayed by the junior I trusted and died under torture. In my life as a researcher, my knowledge had been fed into live human experiments without my consent — all because of the superior I had believed and obeyed.

Perhaps she sensed my wariness; the woman called Merina spread both hands, seeking to placate me.

"Steady yourself, child. Everything this one says is the truth."

"...This... one?"

This one? The question tumbled out of me before I could stop it. Sylvia's mother was the Queen of the Elves — and this was someone even that queen addressed with honor. In my head, the pieces of information began snapping together of their own accord. The golden aura that had blazed around her. The colossal tree that had turned to gold at the queen's touch. The elven queen who had introduced herself as the shaman. The assembled puzzle pointed in one direction, and one direction only — and having finished sorting my thoughts, I opened my eyes once more and looked upon the woman before me.

"...The World Tree...?"

"So you recognize me at last — O Child of Defying Heaven, O Child of the Moon."

The legendary tree said to have driven its roots through three nations. The Divine Tree, Yggdrasil... the World Tree.

Meanwhile, even as Jenison's consciousness vanished elsewhere, time went right on flowing. Flowing time, after all, waits for no one.

Morning broke. The knights finished seeing to their arms and armor while servants attended to their needs. An ordinary day was arriving, just as it always did — and from that day's routine, Sylvia was no exception.

She rose early and arranged her appearance with care. As the representative of the elves, she could not afford to be seen looking anything less than composed. Grooming complete, she made her way into the main hall, where the people of the Empire were taking their meal. Knights ate beside arms and armor of polished, gleaming steel; here and there, servants waited upon them; and last of all, she spotted that utterly bizarre man who never stopped pestering her.

It was an ordinary scene, the kind she would normally have brushed off without a second thought... but today, something was different. From that fellow Robert, from most of the knights around him, even from a handful of the elves, she sensed something strange and repellent — and the spirits seemed to feel it too, for not one would come near them. No... if anything, they seemed to be actively fleeing them.

While she was still turning that wrongness over in her mind, Robert had drifted up beside her and taken hold of her arm.

"...What do you think you are doing?"

"Yesterday..."

Robert's voice came out dry and cracked, and the grip on her wrist only tightened.

"Nothing at all, really... I was only curious what you spoke about yesterday... haha."

"A conversation?"

"Y...yes, that — what you whispered about with that fellow... you remember, surely..."

"...I fail to see why that should interest you."

"Haha, well, I am a representative myself, after all... If there is ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠some matter afoot, I ought to be told of it, no...?"

Robert kept up that pleasant expression as he spoke, but Sylvia could feel it — that the smile was false. That it spoke nothing of what truly lived inside him.

"...That is not something you need to know."

"Wh...what...?"

Sylvia, who had no wish to trade words with a man whose face was wound round with lies, gave only a vague, evasive reply — never imagining it would only pour oil on the fire.

"So it's true... she's been cozying up to that bastard..."

"...?"

"These fucking bitches... seducing me... toying with me as they please..."

"Excuse me, are you quite—"

"...If only I were a little more handsome, damn it... this never would have happened to me..."

Sylvia edged back, step by step, from the man muttering under his breath — but it did not last. She froze where she stood, startled out of her wits.

"Fuck!! You think you're so damn special?! Huh?!"

"What's an old relic promoted on gray hair alone doing running his mouth—"

"You all get to laze about in comfort, do you? I picked the wrong master and look at me — look at this wreck...!"

Before her eyes, as though a bomb had gone off, quarrels and provocations erupted in a chain reaction. It would have been a mercy had it ended there — but alas, there was no end in sight to the chaos. Even in that very moment, people kept flying into sudden rages and picking fights; their targets knew no distinction of race, sex, or rank, and she even witnessed, time and again, people with the flimsiest of ties to one another turning on each other.

"Wh...what is..."

"Hey, you just going to stand there? Why, you son of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a—"

"Oh? You letting go or what?"

"Aaagh!! You bastard!"

At last, blood spattered. With a wet burst, something hot scattered across the floor. The hall where ugly words had flown had become a playground for brawlers — and now that playground, in turn, had become one for murderers.

Then, into the mind of Sylvia — thrown into no small disarray by the scene unfolding before her — there rang an alien, high voice, as though echoing from deep within her skull.

They were words for which only one description was truly accurate: the whisper of a demon.