My mind reeled at Zotherg’s declaration that he was the entire mountain. The sheer magnitude of his existence was incomprehensible. How powerful would someone have to be to achieve such a size? I wondered.

  And then glee surged through me. I had a powerful ally right beneath me—a being of incredible might on my side.

  Zotherg’s laughter rumbled through our connection, warm and knowing. “Unfortunately, my lord, I cannot interact with the world or sign a contract to lend you my power.”

  The words hit me like a punch to the gut. “Why not?!” I demanded, frustration bubbling over.

  “You see, my lord,” Zotherg began patiently, “there are laws that bind us elementals. Once an elemental reaches the threshold of the demi-god realm, we are forbidden from taking direct action in the mortal world without a contract. And a mortal of too low a level cannot form a contract with a god or demi-god. It would violate the law of objectivity, which keeps balance in the universe.”

  “Wait, you’re a demi-god?” I blurted, my voice incredulous.

  “Not quite,” Zotherg replied with a chuckle. “I am almost a demi-god. Just a few levels away. But without a contractor powerful enough to bridge the gap, I cannot level further. Once again, this is due to the universal laws. We elementals are born immortal, nearly impossible to kill. To balance this, our ability to level up comes with strict conditions. That’s why some of us created beings like the Elves, Fairies, and Pixies—as vessels to aid us in crossing the barrier.”

  I frowned, processing this. “So you’re saying you can’t help me directly… but can you at least teach me magic?”

  A wave of pity washed over me through our connection, soft but undeniable. “Unfortunately, my lord, we elementals do not use magic the way mortals do,” Zotherg explained. “We bind our souls to our element at birth. By channeling mana through our bodies, we use it as a medium to manipulate our element. We shape and command magic directly with our minds and souls—a process we call weaving. But this technique is intrinsic to elementals and cannot be replicated by mortals.”

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  I sighed, my disappointment palpable. I glanced around the simple room that served as my home, frustration gnawing at me. “Well, at least I’m not in immediate danger,” I muttered aloud.

  Zotherg fell silent.

  The air between us shifted, the warmth of his presence replaced by a cold tension. His hesitation felt like someone avoiding eye contact.

  “What is it?” I asked, my voice sharp with suspicion.

  Zotherg hesitated, his thoughts flickering in uncertainty before he finally spoke. “The birth of an Elf is a significant event, my lord. It attracts the attention of wild demonic beasts.”

  My stomach dropped.

  “Normally, your parents would have struggled to protect you, especially with your unique nature,” Zotherg continued, his tone grave. “But I have intervened. Though I cannot act directly, I have sent out my aura and intent to keep them at bay. So far, it has worked—but the more intelligent beasts will eventually see through my bluff.”

  “WHAT THE HELL, MAN?!” I burst out, panic and frustration mixing in my voice. “You’re the only reason I’m still alive, and you’re just now telling me I’m in imminent danger?”

  “At this moment, you are safe,” Zotherg replied, his voice steady despite my outburst. “Your father, Ileor, is a strong warrior who once served the previous Elf King. Your parents are capable and will protect you to the best of their ability. But there is a bigger issue that you are unaware of.”

  Before I could respond, Zotherg sent me a mental image.

  It was of a baby lying on a makeshift crib, its tiny chest rising and falling with each breath. The room was eerily familiar—the same walls, the same crude furniture. The baby stared up at the ceiling, its eyes bright and striking.

  Golden eyes.

  “That’s… me, isn’t it?” I asked, my voice a whisper.

  “Yes,” Zotherg confirmed, his tone flat.

  A cold sweat broke out across my mind—if such a thing were possible. “How bad is it? Having gold eyes, I mean.”

  Zotherg’s voice turned into a deep, grating whisper, the gravity of his words sending chills through me. “It is extremely rare, my lord. Rare enough that every human noble and ruler would pay a wagon of gold for your head on a platter. They would pay a castle’s worth for you alive, in shackles.”

  The weight of his words crushed me. Suddenly, everything made sense. My mother’s overprotectiveness. Her refusal to let anyone see me. The constant anxiety etched into her every movement.

  I wasn’t just a newborn Elf. I was a walking target—a prize that could bring unimaginable wealth or power to anyone ruthless enough to claim it. My parents were the only barrier standing between me and a world full of enemies.

  My chest tightened, and I closed my eyes, trying to steady my thoughts. I didn’t fear death—I had faced it once already—but the thought of my new family suffering because of me was unbearable.

  I was becoming attached to them, to this new life. And if someone harmed my parents to get to me, I knew I would never forgive myself.

  How powerful would he have to be to have such a size? I thought to myself. Then glee overcame me as I thought about how I had such a powerful ally right under me.