Chapter 14: Ashborn

When? Since when was he disguised as Master? When I was unconscious? When things got weird? Since the beginning? I could not tell what was going on. My mind continued pestering me with unending number of questions all converging to the single point of thought: When?

With a triumphant grin, basking in joy at my despair, Narb replied in a soft tone without any of his arrogance or overbearing appearance, "Yes." There was no hint of over-exaggeration in his tone.

"W-What?" I stammered, my vision blurring as tears welled up in my eyes.

Narb simply smirked and turned around and stepped forward.

"Now then, little messenger, why don't you lead me to the man you brought back with you," the woman behind me commanded. She pressed the blade deeper against my neck, nicking it.

The couple drops of blood that flowed from my neck to the edge of the blade were a clear warning for me to do as told. I could not defy her. Even if I were strong enough to take on Narb by some miracle, my senses told me that the one behind me would be a while different story.

"I suppose this is unnecessary," remarked the woman, withdrawing the blade from my neck with a casual air.

Startled, I leaped away as soon as the blade left my skin, putting a few steps between us in a swift motion. I turned around to get a clear look at her.

She stood before me, a woman of equal height, her presence commanding yet ethereal. Cascading down her back like a river of snow, her hair shimmered with a silvery hue, almost as if touched by moonlight itself. Her complexion, pale as freshly fallen snow, accentuated the air of timeless elegance that enveloped her.

Enigmatic eyes, the colour of storm clouds on a wintry eve, gazed distantly, their dull grey pupils tinged with a faint glow of mana. There was a wisdom in her gaze, as if she held the secrets of the universe within her depths.

Adorned in a flowing white robe adorned with intricate silver patterns, she seemed to embody the very essence of purity and grace. Each movement was imbued with a sense of effortless grace, as if she were a living embodiment of the arcane arts.

"Ah-Ashborn," I stuttered, the name escaping my lips in a breathless whisper. It was a name steeped in legend, a lineage of power and prestige that stretched back through the annals of time.

The silver strands of hair, the porcelain skin, and the piercing grey eyes aglow with the brilliance of pure mana—all were trademarks of those who bore the Ashborn name. There was no one in all of Celestia who did not know of the Ashborns.

In the presence of this beauty before me, I could feel the weight of history pressing down upon me, as if I stood on the precipice of destiny itself. The Ashborns were not mere mortals; they were legends in their own right, bound by blood and magic to a legacy that defied comprehension. A legend forged by their Ancestors and continued by the leaders of the Ashborn Family.

"You seem to recognize me, child," the woman remarked with a gentle enchanting smirk.

I lowered my head to avoid making eye-contact with her. "I'm sorry," was all I could mutter.

She stepped forward and closed the distance between us. With a firm grip, she lifted my chin, forcing my gaze to meet hers, unyielding and piercing.

"I'll ask you again, little messenger," she repeated, her voice laced with a hint of menace. The weight of her words hung in the air like a heavy fog, suffocating and oppressive. "Where is the man you brought back with you?"

In the intensity of her stare, I felt the weight of her scrutiny bearing down on me, relentless and unforgiving. There was no escaping her gaze, no evading her question. I was caught in her grasp, a mere pawn in the game of shadows and secrets that surrounded us.

"I... I'm sorry. I do not know," I stammered, my voice trembling with fear and uncertainty.

"You have a link with him," she declared with certainty, as though she already held all the answers. "It would bode well for you to answer me without deceit."

Her gaze bore into me with an intensity that chilled me to the bone. I felt as though she could see into the depths of my soul, unravelling every secret I harboured.

"I... I really do not know," I managed to choke out, my words barely audible above the pounding of my heart.

With a sigh of impatience, she dismissed my feeble protestations. "I do not have time for this, child," she said, her tone brimming with frustration and urgency.

As her words hung in the air, a sense of foreboding settled over me like a suffocating shroud. There was no escaping her, no room for evasion. The mystery surrounding the man I had brought with me only deepened, casting a shadow of uncertainty over our encounter.