How our Magic Works

"Who said we're out of magic, human?" Sylvanie glanced over at Oreon nonchalantly.

Oreon whipped his head toward Sylvanie, eyes wide. "Wait—what? I thought—" He waved a hand at the sisters. "You said you couldn't use magic! At the fortress, you were completely drained after we fought Rot. I saw it!" He pointed at them accusingly.

"How the hell—" Oreon began, but Sylvanie lazily cut him off.

"Relax, human." Sylvanie waved him off. "We were drained—that part was true. Using so much magic at once takes a toll, especially when you're surviving on fumes and adrenaline." She leaned against the headboard, hands behind her head and legs crossed. "But we've had time to recover. Real food. A proper bed…" She glanced at Celestia, then turned back to Oreon. "Besides, we're not like you. We heal far faster than your human, fragile, magicless body does."

Oreon winced, giving her an annoyed look. "Was that last part really necessary?"

A grin appeared on Sylvanie's face. "Oh, absolutely. I wouldn't want you getting too comfortable thinking you're on our level." She tilted her head, eyes gleaming with amusement. "But don't worry—you're doing pretty good for a fragile, magicless human. You've only almost died…what, three times since we met?"

"Four, actually," Celestia gently corrected, with a playful tone. "If you count the moment Sylvanie nearly broke your neck when she found out that you were the son of the purifier.

Sylvanie nodded with childish enthusiasm. "Yep, could have snapped it like a twig, human." She sounded almost proud of it.

Oreon stared at them, caught between disbelief and exhaustion. "You two are terrible, you know that?" he muttered. "Absolutely terrible." He turned toward the window and gazed down at the streets. "Why didn't either of you say anything? This whole time, I thought you were still drained from when I broke you out."

Sylvanie shrugged, her grin unwavering. "You never asked," she said. "Besides, we're not back to full strength. We can defend ourselves, sure, but we're nowhere near ready to face an entire battalion of holy knights." Despite her playful manner, a hint of seriousness entered her eyes.

"She's right," Celestia added. "We're not at full strength—perhaps seventy percent. Seventy-five at most." She raised a hand, conjuring a small orb of golden light above her palm. It pulsed softly, casting warm shadows across her delicate features. Then she closed her fingers, snuffing it out. "But it's enough. Better than we were when you freed us."

"Speak for yourself, sister," Sylvanie interjected with a lazy grin. "I'm sitting pretty at about eighty-five percent myself." Dark violet wisps curled around her fingertips briefly before dissipating like smoke. "Shadow magic doesn't take as long to replenish—it feeds on…well, let's just say this town's got plenty of negativity floating around for me to siphon from."

Oreon blinked, his confused gaze shifting between Celestia and Sylvanie. "I'm… I'm sorry, I don't get it. What now. You siphon from negativity?"

Sylvanie chuckled and rolled onto her side to face Oreon. "Oh, right—you're just a human, and you don't fully understand how magic works."

"Can do without the insults," Oreon commented back.

"Shush and listen, human." Sylvanie propped her head on one hand. "Dark magic—shadows, curses, illusions, all the fun stuff—feeds on negative emotions. Fear, anger, resentment, despair…" With her free hand, she stirred the air as if gathering invisible energy. "This town has been overflowing with them since we arrived. Every glare, whispered insult, and scrap of hatred aimed at us?" Her grin widened. "It's a buffet for me."

"So that whole thing with Grog then—"

"Delicious," Sylvanie purred. "All that rage, humiliation, the seething hatred he had? I could practically taste it." She slowly licked her lips. "How do I explain it to someone who can't sense mana?" She tapped her chin. "Imagine you're starving, and someone sets a fresh, hot meal before you. That's what strong negative emotions feel like to a dark elf."

Oreon's bewilderment gave way to concern. "That's…kind of disturbing, actually."

"Is it?" Sylvanie tilted her head, genuinely curious. "Humans kill, cook, and eat animals. How is what I do any different?" She sat up slightly. "I'm not hurting anyone. I'm only absorbing the energy they already release into the world. If anything, I'm helping them. With less negativity lingering, there's less chance of it festering into something worse."

"But don't you hunt and eat animals too?" Oreon asked, confusion returning to his voice. "And if that's true, shouldn't you have… I don't know, an endless supply of energy with everything happening in the world?"

Celestia answered gently before Sylvanie could. "We do eat, though we need far less food than humans." She folded her hands in her lap and met Oreon's gaze. "Elves have different nutritional needs. A small amount can sustain us."

"And as for your second question," Sylvanie picked up where her sister left off. "It's not quite that simple, human." She shifted, sitting cross-legged now. "Sure, there's plenty of negativity in the world—wars, suffering, all that good stuff. But I can't just…absorb it from anywhere. I need to be relatively close to the source." She held up her hand, wiggling her fingers. "Think of it like…fishing. There might be fish all over the ocean, but you can only catch what's near your line."

"So, if you were fighting in a war?" Oreon asked her.

"Oh, now you're asking the right questions, human." She leaned forward, sounding almost delighted to teach him. "A battlefield? That's like an all-you-can-eat feast for someone like me. All that fear, rage, desperation, pain—it's everywhere, thick enough to choke on. In a situation like that, I could pull in so much power I'd be damn near unstoppable. My magic would regenerate almost as fast as I could use it."

"Which is precisely why dark elves were so feared during the wars between our peoples." Celestia cut in. "A single dark elf mage on a battlefield could turn the tide of an entire conflict. The more chaos and bloodshed, the stronger they become."

"My dear sister is right," Sylvanie added. "But there's a catch, so pay attention, human." Oreon nodded comically, listening like an eager student. "Just like you can't eat forever without getting sick. I can't absorb endless amounts of negative energy without consequences." She tapped her temple. "Too much, and it starts to affect your mind. You become…unstable. Aggressive. Paranoid. It's like getting drunk on hatred—feels amazing at first, but if you don't know when to stop…" She trailed off, making a vague gesture that suggested nothing good.

Celestia nodded slowly. "It's one of the reasons dark elves have such a…reputation among other races. Some of them lose themselves to the power, become addicted to that feeling of strength." She explained. "They start seeking out conflict, creating negativity so that they can feed off it."

"But not me," Sylvanie interjected quickly, holding up a finger. "I know my limits. I take what I need, nothing more." She shot Oreon a sideways grin. "Well…most of the time."

Oreon processed this information; his brow furrowed in thought. "So, when you were taunting Grog earlier—"

"I was having a little snack while putting him in his place. Sylvanie finished with a shameless grin. "Multitasking at its finest."

Oreon met Sylvanie's gaze as another question popped into his head. "So…wait. If you feed off negative emotions, does that mean positive ones weaken you? Or…”

"No, nothing like that," Sylvanie replied, waving a dismissive hand. "Positive emotions just don't do anything for me. They're like…" She searched for an analogy. "Like trying to fuel a fire with water. It just doesn't work. I can be around happy people all day, and it won't affect my magic one way or another."

"Though," Celestia interjected softly. "It is worth noting that prolonged exposure to intense positive emotions can be…uncomfortable for dark elves. Not harmful, just draining in a different way."

'A different way?" Oreon repeated. "I don't get it."

"Like annoying," Sylvanie answered back. "It's just as simple as being around someone who is just happy all the time; it gets annoying after a while."

"It's more than just annoyance." Celestia gently corrected her, giving her sister a knowing look. "For dark elves, positive emotions can feel...overwhelming. Like standing too close to a fire—not harmful, but intensely uncomfortable after a prolonged exposure." She smoothed out a wrinkle in her dress. "It's why dark elves and light elves historically had such…complicated relationships."

"Complicated is putting it mildly," Sylvanie muttered, rolling her eyes. 'Try barely tolerated each other's existence.' Your kind—" She gestured at Celestia."—radiates all that goodness and light and hope. Meanwhile, we thrive in the shadows, feeding off the darker aspects of existence." She shrugged. "Oil and water, basically."

"But you two get along fine. You're sisters." Oreon leaned back against the window frame.

"That doesn't change anything," Sylvanie continued, though her tone remained mild. "We get along because Celestia doesn't constantly blast me with holy light, and I don't smother her in shadow magic." She gave Celestia a look that might have been affectionate beneath the sarcasm. "We learned to coexist."

"We learned to balance each other," Celestia responded as her eyes met her sister's. "Where I see the best in people, Sylvanie sees the worst. Where she acts with force, I reply with mercy." A small smile formed on her lips. "Neither approach is perfect alone."

"Aww, getting sentimental, sister?" Sylvanie teased playfully. "Careful, or I might start thinking you actually like having me around."

Celestia's smile widened slightly. "I never said I didn't."

Oreon watched the sisters for a moment before turning to Celestia. "So, then what about your magic?" Oreon asked her. "If she feeds on negativity, and you're more positive, if there is no positive energy around. How do you replenish your magic?"

Celestia tilted her head slightly, considering the question with that same patient expression she always wore when explaining something. "It's…different for light magic." She began softly. "I don't feed off emotions the way Sylvanie does. My magic is tied to something more…fundamental." She paused, searching for the right words. "Life itself, in a way. The warmth of the sun, the growth of plants, the natural cycle of healing and renewal—these things restore my power."

"So, like a plant then?" Oreon asked, genuinely curious but also somewhat amused by the comparison.

Sylvanie snorted out a laugh. "Yes, my sister, the delicate flower."

Celestia shot her a look, as if she were annoyed by the comment. "Not exactly a plant, Oreon." She turned back to him. "But there is some truth to the comparison. Sunlight does help restore my magic faster. Being in nature, around living things, breathing clean air…" She gestured vaguely. "All of that contributes to my recovery."

"Which is why she was so miserable in that dungeon," Sylvanie added, going back to being serious. "No sunlight, no fresh air. Just stone and darkness and…" She trailed off, her expression hardening for just a moment before she caught herself.

Celestia's gaze dropped slightly. "Yes…It was difficult." She admitted quietly. "Light magic requires light—literal or metaphorical. In that place, there was neither." She looked back up at Oreon. "But even in darkness, there are sources I can draw from. A candle flame. The warmth of another person's presence. Even hope itself can fuel my magic, if it's strong enough."

"Hope?" Oreon repeated, his brow furrowing once again. "How does that work?"

"Light magic isn't just about physical light," Celestia explained patiently. "It's about the essence of what light represents—hope, compassion, the will to protect and heal." She placed a hand over her heart. "When someone feels genuine hope, even in the darkest moment, it creates a kind of…resonance that I can draw upon." A faint light shone from her palm again as she demonstrated. "It's why I could never truly lose all my power, even in that dungeon—because as long as I held onto hope myself, I had something to draw from. Though it's nowhere near as efficient as proper sunlight or being around living things." Celestia added, letting the light fade. "Hope alone can sustain me, but it's like…surviving on scraps when you're used to full meals." She looked thoughtful for a moment. That's why I was so weak when you found us. Days—weeks, really—of drawing only from the faintest ember of hope I could hold onto."

"Hmm…" Oreon thought to himself as he took in the information that was given to him by both sisters. "I think I get it now: polar opposites, not just in looks, but in personality, magic, and how your magic works."

"Exactly," Sylvanie confirmed with a nod. "Though I'd argue we're more like two sides of the same coin rather than complete opposites." She glanced at her sister. "After all, light can't exist without darkness, and darkness means nothing without light to contrast it."

"A surprisingly philosophical observation from you," Celestia remarked, gently praising her sister.

"I have my moments." Sylvanie shot back with a smirk.

Oreon rested his head on the small pillow tucked into the corner. "So, I guess I was worrying for nothing then.

"Worrying about what?" Celestia asked, tilting her head slightly.

"About you two," Oreon admitted, his voice quieter now. "I mean…everything that's happened—the dungeon, being enslaved, losing your kingdom…" He gestured vaguely. "I thought maybe you'd both be…I don't know, completely drained or broken or something…

Sylvanie let out a sharp laugh. "Broken? Us?" She shook her head as her familiar smirk returned. "Human, it takes a lot more than some chains and a dark cell to break an elf—especially a dark elf." She tapped her chest proudly. "We're resilient as hell."

"Though I won't lie," Celestia added softly, her expression growing more serious. "It was…difficult. There were moments when I questioned whether we'd ever see freedom again." Her eyes met Oreon's. "But giving up hope would have meant giving up entirely—and I couldn't do that. Not to myself, and certainly not to Sylvanie."

"Damn right you couldn't," Sylvanie muttered, crossing her arms. "I would've knocked some sense into you if I had to." She glanced over at Celestia but then quickly directed her sight towards Oreon. "Speaking of which…"

"Well, now that I know that you two are better off." Oreon adjusted himself on the window seat again, crossing his arms lightly over his chest. "I'll sleep here again, and you two can—"

"Absolutely not," Sylvanie firmly cut him off, placing both hands on her hips. "You're not sleeping on that tiny ledge after everything that's happened today, and besides, your neck was hanging all on the side this morning, like someone snapped it in your sleep."

Oreon blinked, completely surprised by Sylvanie's proposal. "I…What…It… It wasn't that bad—"

"Yes, it was," Celestia said, gentle but firm. "You looked terribly uncomfortable this morning. I was worried you might hurt yourself if you kept sleeping like that." She gestured to the bed with her left hand. "Besides, there's plenty of room. I'll take this side, Sylvanie the other, and you can sleep in the middle."

"W-wait, hold on—" Oreon stammered, his face already starting to flush. "I can't just…you two are…I mean…" He shrugged to find the right words. "That's… that's not appropriate!"

"Not appropriate?" Never patient, Sylvanie left the bed, strode to the window seat, and grabbed Oreon's arm without ceremony. "You humans and your misplaced sense of chivalry," She grunted. "Up," She commanded. "This is not up for debate; it's a royal decree."

Oreon looked up at her, wide-eyed. "What—you can't just—"

"Watch me," Sylvanie said flatly, yanking him from the window seat with surprising strength. "You're sleeping in the bed. End of discussion. Now come on before my sister decides to give you her queenly voice." She dragged Oreon toward the bed while he clawed for the corner of the wall to resist.

"Let go of me, you crazy elf!" Oreon tried to pull against her.

"Just get in the damn bed before I throw you over there." Sylvanie gritted her teeth, straining to drag him along.

For several seconds, Sylvanie pulled while Oreon resisted with all his strength. His grunts filled the room as her frustration mounted—until…

"Oreon." Oreon froze. He didn't know why. The voice was unmistakably Celestia's, but her tone had changed. An icy shiver raced down his spine, warning him that one wrong move might earn him a death sentence.

Oreon slowly turned toward Celestia. She remained seated on the bed, posture perfect and hands folded neatly in her lap. Her serene smile hadn't changed, yet her presence had. The air around her felt heavier, charged with quiet authority. Her sapphire eyes, usually warm and gentle, now held a command he couldn't ignore.

"You're sleeping in the bed tonight," Celestia said softly, each word absolute. "This is not a request."

Oreon opened his mouth, but no words came. His grip on the wall went slack, and Sylvanie immediately seized the opportunity.

"And in the bed you go!" Sylvanie shouted. She tore Oreon from the wall and tossed him onto the middle of the bed. He yelped as he landed beside Celestia, who never moved an inch.

"There we go," Sylvanie said cheerfully, dusting off her hands as though she'd completed a difficult task. "Much better." She circled the bed, climbed in, and settled comfortably on the left. "See? Plenty of room."

Oreon propped himself on his elbows, staring between the sisters in disbelief. "You two…what the hell is this…you can't just force a man into bed with you; it's indecent." Oreon battled.

"Oh, relax, human. My sister doesn't bite," Sylvanie quipped, briefly baring her teeth. "I, however, make no such promises."

Celestia sighed softly as her commanding presence faded and her usual gentleness returned. "Oreon, please," she said quietly, her voice back to its warm, soothing tone. "We're not trying to make you uncomfortable. We want you to rest properly."

"Exactly. Stop overthinking it, human. We're not asking you to do anything scandalous." Then a thought occurred to Sylvanie as she said this. "Although the royal court would be up in arms right now if they knew a human was sleeping between their royal princesses, you'd be taken to the guillotine for sure."

Oreon's eyes widened even further. "Wait—What?!"

"She's exaggerating." Celestia cut in quickly, shooting her sister a disapproving look. "Mostly."

"Am I, though?" Sylvanie grinned wickedly. "I mean, technically speaking, allowing a commoner—let alone a human—into the bed of elven royalty would have been considered…what was that phrase the court used? An unforgivable sin that is met with execution?" She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Though I suppose it doesn't matter now, considering our kingdom is in ruins, and the royal court is gone."

Oreon groaned, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "This is insane…You two are absolutely insane."

Neither sister spoke, but Oreon heard Celestia giggle softly as she turned away and lay down, with Sylvanie following suit. "Now get some rest, Oreon," Celestia finally said as her head gently rested on the pillow.

"Yeah, human, go to sleep." As Sylvanie spoke, Oreon glanced between the sisters and lightly shook his head.

"Maybe I'm the one who's insane." He finally lay down, resting his head on the large pillow between them. As he gazed at the ceiling, his eyelids grew heavy and soon closed, carrying him into a peaceful sleep.

--Meanwhile—

As night deepened, the trio settled into well-earned sleep. Downstairs, Meara closed the tavern. Lena had gone to bed long ago, leaving Meara to finish the last few chores herself.

Alone in the empty tavern with her back to the door, Meara narrowed her eyes as she sensed someone enter.

Meara kept polishing the glass without looking up. "It's after hours, but I reckoned you're not here for a drink." Without a trace of fear, she looked up at a tall figure whose black cloak concealed its body and face.

"Sharp as ever," Its deep voice spoke, "Meara…" The figure's red eyes shone through the cloak over its head as it stared down at Meara, who met the figure's gaze without an ounce of fear.