Set In Stone

It was nearly twilight again by the time Citrine stirred, an entire night and day spent scouring through her library of tomes and spellcraft. Hours of painstaking study had left her with nothing but a migraine and a sore back as eyes fluttered open, taking in the dim light of her office. The last of the sun had been swallowed by the horizon, stars glinting in the sky.

"…"

There was no energy in her body to lift herself from the desk to enjoy it though, all of it drained by the previous session of her investigation. So she just existed there, staring into the growing darkness of her shop as shadows crept over her. Larkspur had already been gone for quite a while, having tried to help console her before being shooed back to his apothecary by her request.

Now, she was alone.

"…" Her cheek shifted against paper.

If she were to be honest, everything still felt unreal to her—ethereal, like a passing nightmare or a dream. To be told that she'd been misestimating the years left, that she'd only have one more, it was like being told she was half-rock instead of elf.

But… it wasn't a lie. Larkspur had made that clear in the research he'd shown her.

Her heart ached, not because of the magic, but because of the truth set in stone.

For most races, the leystone curse increased their mana capacity by linking it to their lifeforce. In exchange, their life expectancy decreased to a third of what it would be. Unlike others though, her half-fae heritage enhanced it even further. So instead of trading several decades of her life, she'd traded nearly all of them, her remaining years shriveling to a measly six.

And now… just one.

"Ack!" The half-elf groaned as the real pain in her chest returned, this time sharper. She rubbed her fingers against the spot, futilely trying to massage it away as she finally sat up.

It'd never occurred to her that being an elf would've changed things this much, although perhaps she should've. They were a rarer species more attuned to the world's energies than others, so of course there would be differences in a curse that'd been modeled after the leylines.

Citrine looked over her scattered work, still trying to think of what to do.

Almost every single lead she'd burned in her research had been a dud—not that she'd expected anything else, she'd passively been searching for a way to undo it ever since she first took the curse. Still, the hope had been there, and it hurt to have that crushed.

Just like every other personal concession in the line of her duty, she supposed.

Citrine sighed, rising from her chair and stretching out like a cat.

This was fine though, she'd always known the risk when she'd accepted the curse. So instead of dwelling on past actions, she needed to plan for the remaining ones she still had left.

Her eyes scanned the inside of her office.

First on that list: Her belongings. She had an entire store of stock and assets, and no heir or will to speak of.

"…" Well, that was an easy decision to make. She didn't really have any family left, and the only people who could run the store and appreciate the items would be Larkspur, Durma, and maybe Ferris if he ever decided to settle down from wherever he was.

So she'd leave it to them, her party. Larkspur was the closest, so the business itself could go to him. Durma would probably appreciate a few of her more unique rocks and gems. Ferris… well, she'd find something for Ferris, likely every other miscellaneous thing that she had.

Mana trickled down her finger and into her well of ferromagnetic ink, willing her thoughts into words. The liquid hovered thoughtfully for a second, before laying to rest directly on paper, symbols manifesting in tidy rows of black. It was a skill that'd she come up with in her childhood, although perhaps it was more fitting to call it a parlor trick.

Mmm, that gave her an idea, actually. Ferris always loved the more trivial spells in her arsenal. Perhaps she'd write down their procedures for him to learn.

He used to ask for demonstrations in their journey together, whether it was on break from training, or when bored of the long stretches of traveling. And despite not having much talent for magic himself, he had just enough to pull off some of the simpler ones. Like geokinesis or stoneshaping.

Citrine's lips twitched upward, remembering the look of sheer joy on the ogrlyn's face the first time he'd managed the last one. He'd made a statuette of a female warrior, and he'd been so proud of it, despite how simple it was in comparison to other possibilities.

The half-elf shook her head, amused by the memory, before focusing again.

Once her will and wishes had been written down, the next step would be trying to figure out what she wanted to do in her remaining year. She could always just keep going as usual, offering a shiny rock to someone every other day or so. But did she really want to spend her time like that?

The woman paced over to the window of the shop to let the cool breeze in. The moon was already rising high in the sky, bathing the world in its pale light.

"…" What could one do in a year?

Her first thought deviated toward romance, but she quickly dismissed it. While the thought of having a relationship had constantly haunted her mind since childhood, the reality of it was not meant for her.

Sure, she'd met plenty of potential partners in her years, but she couldn't stomach the irresponsibility of pursuing it in her life.

When she'd been adventuring, it'd been because her duty to the world had come first—aka, too soon. After their victory banquet? Too soon. When she'd been building the shop? Too soon. When she'd finally gotten business? Too soon.

She laughed dryly at the irony. She'd finally settled into stability over the past year, stockpiled enough wealth to last a few decades, even gotten to the point where most elves could finally start planning for the future, but now?

It was too late.

"…" She shook her head. It was probably for the best anyway. She wasn't exactly the lovable type, and it would've been hard to find someone regardless.

As the will finished itself on the page, Citrine turned her attention toward other options. What about a journey then, a trip to see the wonders of the world she hadn't already witnessed? Perhaps she could even seek out her friends to see if they'd be willing to join her. One of the dreams she'd always had was to see the sunset in all corners of the world.

Or… perhaps she could just keep looking? Find a way to counter the curse? There was one last lead she could look into a fair distance away.

Her chest filled with night air before turning in the direction of her room.

It was likely still foolhardy, and she'd never been one to chase dreams like that, but she'd be lying if she said she didn't want to try. If a single realistic option knocked on her front door, she'd probably drop everything to answer.

She snorted. "Hah."

That was strange. It seemed that even the stoic of the group could get a little whimsical in the face of death. No matter, it was a passing fancy. The only thing left now was to rest—

*knock-knock*

Citrine startled at the rapping at her front door.

Who could it be? It was well past closing hours. And Larkspur hadn't indicated any intent to return. The most he'd said was that he'd send out a message to Durma and Ferris, but she doubted the news would have reached them by now.

She crept over to the counter and looked through the one of the gems, projecting an image of the front to her eye. She couldn't make out many details, just the vague outline of a tall figure in the dark of night. They were standing patiently, waiting.

"…" She frowned, making sure the golems were on standby before walking to the front door and conjuring a basic illusion to obscure herself.

"Good evening, is everything okay?" the half-elf asked, opening it up a crack. "If you're here to buy something, we're closed for the day. Could I ask you to please return in the morning?"

The clinking of armor could be heard as the person shifted. "I… apologize," a feminine voice spoke. "But this is urgent. I need to talk to Citrine Agate, the owner of this shop. Is she in right now?"

"…" The woman paused, scanning the silhouette in the moonlight. "You're speaking to her."

"C-Citrine? You look, uh, a little different from what I remember."

"Mm… it's just an illusion. But it's me." Citrine hummed, deciding to drop it at the implied familiarity. "I'm assuming you know me?"

A nod.

"Then you're also aware that I don't have my business open this late normally." She leaned forward, golden eyes shining through the darkness. There wasn't much she could make out despite her limited darkvision. Most of the woman's features were obscured beneath a hooded cloak. Still, there was something familiar that tickled her mind. "What's so important?"

"I…"

"Yes?"

"…" Another pause, and a sigh. "I don't want to sound weird, but uh, could I come in. Please? I brought snacks." A basket of awkwardly shaped, yet pleasant smelling, cinnamon cookies was suddenly dangled in the space between them.

Now Citrine was even more confused. That was her favorite kind of treat, but the number of people who knew could be counted on a single hand. She studied the figure again but still couldn't make out their face. The only things she could tell were that the figure was female, tall, and muscular. Not much else to go off of.

*click*

"Come inside," she said, disengaging the lock. "Let's talk."

"Uh, thanks." The woman stepped in, taking a seat in the chair on the other side of the counter after Citrine gestured to it. Despite her stature, she was hunched over on the perch, mild-mannered and almost anxious in her demeanor.

"Would you mind removing your hood? I'd like to see who I'm talking with," the shopkeeper prompted, sitting down opposite to the woman.

No response, although she did hear a gulp.

Fingers tapped along the counter. "Are you alright?"

"Um," the woman finally spoke, swallowing her nervousness. "I know this might seem suspicious, but I'd like to ask that you don't freak out, okay?"

Obviously, that request only served to make her more suspicious. Still, Citrine nodded, steeling herself for any possibility. An assassin? A stalker? Some old villain from her past that'd somehow resurrected themselves, perhaps? This woman acted way too meek to be any of those, but if Citrine had learned anything in her life, it was that appearances could deceive. Even if she wasn't in the same shape as she'd been, she was still capable enough to take down a simple—

The woman abruptly stood up, undoing the clasp around her cloak. It sagged slightly, before falling to the wooden floor in a pile of fabric.

*fwomp*

"…" Citrine's heart stopped in her chest.

The light of the shop illuminated the figure's form in detail. Auburn hair flowed down her shoulders in a high braid. Emerald eyes glinted in the ambience, and the strong, broad-shouldered body of a warrior rivaling an amazon was clad in polished plate of adamantine, tan skin peeking out the few gaps that existed.

Yet that wasn't even the most striking thing. She was beautiful, a mixture of sharp angles and soft edges along her face, light freckles dotting the bridge of her nose. Her lips quirked into an uncertain line, and her pose, while powerful, was almost timid as she looked down, like a statue of a bashful deity.

"Hi, Citrine," she spoke softly, her voice strained high.

"…" The half-elf tried to respond, but her voice faltered. For the second time in a short while, she was in disbelief, the world spinning beneath her feet.

"F-Ferris?" she squeaked out uncertainly, nearly collapsing onto her chair.

The woman nodded in light smile, as if half her strength was being used to pin it from going wider.

"Yeah… how've you been, Rockelf?"