Chapter 7: The Price of Miracle.
"Sorry for the delay, and thank you for waiting! Here's the chapter."
Wilhelm hauled Father over his shoulder, his legs shaking with every step. I held Father’s hand, cold and heavy. The Fairy King walked ahead of us, and the crowd parted before him like he was made of blades.
His steps didn’t falter. He didn’t look at the destruction. He simply said, in a voice that thrummed in the marrow of my teeth: “Inside. Now.”
We reached the temple steps, already slick with blood. People crowded the entrance, clutching wounds, whispering prayers that shook apart on their lips. A priest barred the doorway, his robes stained, his face frantic.
“You cannot come in! We are overwhelmed, there is no more room…”
The Fairy King didn’t slow.
His eyes burned, a deep gold-green like the heart of a forest. The air grew thick, humming.
“Stand aside.”
The priest’s protest died. His knees buckled. He stumbled back, wordless.
We entered.
It was worse inside.
Bodies covered the floor. Not dead—not yet—but close enough that the difference didn't matter. Bandages that had been white were red. Burns glistened like wet meat. The smell made my eyes water: incense trying to cover the stink of opened bowels and charred skin.
A woman prayed in the corner, rocking back and forth, her words too fast to understand. A man stared at his hand—or where his hand used to be. A baby lay too still in its mother's arms.
Wilhelm knelt, lowering Father onto the last scrap of empty stone. I fell beside him, my hands trembling as I touched Father’s cheek. His skin was the color of old ash.
“Father,” I whispered, shaking him lightly. “Please.”
His chest rose—a shallow, terrible movement. A whimper escaped my throat.
The Fairy King knelt across from me. The storm in him drew inward, becoming something heavier.
“Elsbeth.”
I looked up.
“Your father is dying.”
The words didn’t cut.
They removed the ground.
“No,” I said. “You have magic. Save him.”
“I cannot.”
“But you can.” His gaze held mine. “You simply do not believe it yet.”
My heart stuttered. “Me? I’m colorless. I’m nothing.”
His gaze held no pity. Only a deep, unsettling recognition.
“Do you truly forget,” he murmured, “the day the God placed the G-Pen in your hand?”
My breath caught. The weight of it—the divine, incomprehensible gift—flashed in my memory. For your time of need.
“I don’t know how to use it. I don't know what I'm supposed to...”
“You do.” His voice was quiet, final. “Trust yourself.”
He reached out and placed his hand over mine. It was radiant. Not warm—like sunlight given skin.
“Close your eyes.”
I did. The world vanished into the red-dark behind my lids.
“Think not of magic,” he said, his voice woven of thunder and lullaby. “Think of him.”
Father’s laugh. His arms around me when I cried. Whatever happens, you are my daughter.
The love rose too fast. Too much. It hurt.
“Now,” the Fairy King whispered. “Draw.”
The G-Pen was in my hand. I hadn’t summoned it. It had simply appeared, cool and solid against my palm.
My hand moved.
I didn't decide to move it. Something else—something older—guided it. The pen touched air, Light followed the pen’s path. A circle. Perfect. Glowing.
Another circle bloomed around the first, larger one, humming so low I felt it in my teeth.
A third circle unfurled around them both, wide enough to frame the entire room.
The light exploded.
Not white. Not gold. The color of lightning through closed eyelids. The color of something being born. The pen went hot in my hand—not burning, but alive, pulsing like a heartbeat.
A wave rolled out from where I knelt.
It hit Father first.
The gash on his chest—deep enough I'd seen bone—closed. The flesh knit itself together with a sound like tearing paper played backwards. The gray left his face. Pink rushed in to replace it. His chest expanded, a real breath, deep and shuddering.
But the wave didn't stop.
It spread across the temple floor like water, but warm. A man's arm—bone showing through torn muscle—sealed itself. New skin crawled over the wound, pink and fresh. A woman's burned hand smoothed, blisters sinking back into healthy flesh. The boy with the broken leg—his bone *clicked* back into place, and he gasped.
The baby moved.
Then screamed.
A living, furious, *angry* sound.
The mother sobbed and clutched the baby tighter.
People stared at their hands. Their arms. Their legs. Touching healed skin like they didn't believe it was real.
Then they looked at me.
I couldn't move. The pen fell from my hand and vanished before it hit the ground. My fingers were numb. Tears blurred everything.
Father’s eyes fluttered open.
“Elsbeth…?” he breathed, voice raspy but his. “Little one?”
I collapsed against him, my sobs shaking us both.
Behind me, the Fairy King rose. His presence was a mountain at my back. “There,” he murmured, a single word of satisfaction.
Wilhelm helped Father stand. He was shaking, leaning on both of us, but alive. The Fairy King motioned to the door, and we followed.
The temple had gone silent. People watched us pass. Some stared. Some looked away. The priest stood frozen, his mouth open.
As I passed him, he whispered, "I don't understand."
I didn't look at him. "Neither do I."
The temple doors groaned open, spilling us into a sharp, metallic daylight. The air tasted of ozone and wet stone.
Word had spread.
Some villagers bowed their heads. Others clutched protective amulets. A woman yanked her child behind her skirts.
Wilhelm supported Father. The Fairy King was a silent shadow.
And I felt every stare like a brand.
Then I saw the girl.
A girl, maybe nine, with dirt-smeared cheeks. She darted through the crowd, tugging at sleeves. “My mama? Has anyone seen my papa? Please…”
A broad-shouldered man shoved past her. “Move, brat! We’ve all lost people!”
She stumbled and fell, scraping her knees on the gravel. A broken sob escaped her before she scrambled up and ran, away from the crowd, away from us, into the maze of damaged huts.
My heart lurched. I took a step.
The Fairy King’s hand settled on my shoulder. His grip was firm, final. “Not now.”
Before I could protest, Elder Kael approached. His staff of office was wrapped in mourning white, his face a mask of grim duty.
“Heinrich. Wilhelm. Elsbeth.” His eyes touched mine and flickered away, as if from a too-bright flame. "The council is gathered. Come."
The walk to the longhouse was the longest of my life. The familiar path felt foreign, every stone a step toward a verdict.
Inside, the air was thick with sweat and fear. The villagers were not a crowd, but a fractured landscape.
Near the hearth, Marta held her baby—the baby who'd been dead five minutes ago. When she saw me, tears started down her face. She bowed so low her forehead almost touched the baby's head.
Across the room, Old Terrel pointed at me with a shaking finger. "That wasn't God's work," he hissed to the woman beside him. "That was something else. Something evil."
In the middle, most of the village stood. Uncertain. Whispering.
"She saved Arno's leg..."
"But at what cost?"
"The Fairy King brought the storm, and she's one of them..."
Elder Kael cleared his throat. The whispers died.
"We're here to decide what happens to Elsbeth."
*Decide.* Like I was a problem to be solved.
"Some call her a blessing." He gestured to Marta's group without looking at them.
"Some call her a devil." A nod toward Terrel.
"Some don't know what to call her." His hand swept over the uncertain middle.
"But this power is not natural. It saved lives today. Tomorrow, it might be what kills us."
Mother stepped forward. Her face was wrecked—red eyes, swollen cheeks. "Why?" Her voice cracked. "If her destiny is so grand, why was she born colorless? Why did she have to suffer for eight years?"
The Fairy King answered. His voice filled the room without getting louder.
You mistake 'colorless' for emptiness," he said, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. "It is not an end. It is a beginning. Every other soul is born with its destiny already written—in fire, in stone, in leaf. Hers was delivered as a blank page. An unedited story." His gaze, heavy as destiny, settled on me. "That is not a curse. That's potential."
Elder Kael absorbed this, his jaw tight. Then he looked at Father. "Heinrich. She's your daughter."
Father straightened, even though he still leaned on Wilhelm. "She is. And she saved my life. She saved your lives." His gaze swept the room, daring anyone to argue. "But I see your fear. I had the same fear when she was born." He looked at me, and his eyes were full of something that hurt to see. "I can't keep her safe from what she is. And I cannot protect her from what your fear will make you do.”
Elder Kael nodded slowly, like Father had just given him permission.
"Then it's decided. For her safety, and ours, Elsbeth must leave."
Mother made a sound—sharp, broken. Wilhelm's arm tightened around Father.
The world didn't tilt. It just hardened, like everything had suddenly turned to stone.
I couldn't feel my hands.
Elder Kael kept talking. "You have three days to prepare. After that…"
"I'll take her."
The Fairy King's voice cut through everything. He stepped forward, and the room seemed to shrink around him.
"I'll take her to the Fairy Realm. Time moves differently there; a decade may pass as a single year here. She needs training. Power without control is a wildfire." His eyes swept the council. "You're right to fear her. But you should fear what she'll become if she doesn't learn."
He looked down at me. "Do not fear the road, little spark. Your story doesn't end where they choose. It begins where you decide."
I was a ghost in my own home.
I looked around the room. At Marta, crying silent thanks. At Terrel, watching me like I was a wolf in the henhouse. At Mother, breaking apart. At Father, trying so hard to be strong.
I thought of the girl with the scraped knees, still searching for her parents.
"What will happen to her?" I asked Elder Kael. "The girl who was looking for her family."
Elder Kael's face softened slightly. "I'll see she's taken care of, Elsbeth."
"Three days," Elder Kael said again.
I was not being banished.
I nodded, my voice gone, my heart a sealed stone.
Three days.
【Christmas Special】
What will happen next… find out in the next update!
Next week, along with Chapter 8, I will also deliver a special chapter, "The Fairy King's POV," to celebrate Christmas.
Let's meet again at the usual time and usual place.
Merry Christmas!
