Thorjen Verse 6.25 - NTR's & Heartbreaks (Pt 1)

Thorjen

Uncertain how to navigate this awkward juncture, I instinctively raised both hands, assuming a non-threatening posture.

"My name? Well, I'm Thorjen," I uttered, offering a slight smile.

“Tho-rj-en...h-how are you...and you’re an Elf? What’s an Elf doing all the way out here,” she stammered, a look of confusion evident across her round, childish features.

The notion of being 'all the way out here' echoed in my mind as I cautiously advanced, taking in the surreal surroundings. As far out I could see, the walls were cloaked in greyish smog, shimmering around me like an ambiance of quilted sadness. The more I observed this strange place, the clearer my understanding of this peculiar realm became.

“But that’s impossible? How did I end up inside of...” I gulped audibly, grappling with the unspoken truth dancing on the edge of my tongue—'the fate stone.'

“H-Hey! S-stop ignoring me! Wh-who are you and how did you get here?” the strange girl almost screamed right into my ears,

"I'm sorry, I'm not ignoring you, just a little...surprised. I stood before the towering stone, and then whispers compelling me to touch its surface, the next thing I remember was ..." I trailed off, grappling with the disorienting transition.

“Then you miraculously found yourself here? It can’t be...you—w-wait a minute...the elves have the fate stone in their possession? Th-that doesn’t make sense; what about the demon king? Why would he give it to your kind?” Her barrage of questions left me with no concrete answers. Before I could respond, she blinked and magically reappeared closely in front of my face, she hovering so close that I staggered backward, comically tripping over my feet and landing on my backside.

Her gaze betrayed no concern for my well-being, almost demanding the revelations to flow from my lips. “I...I...I don’t know. But who are you? And those clothes you’re wearing. Are you part of the Academy?” I asked, my tone surprisingly pleasant, perhaps I was half expecting weird things like this to keep happening to me.

Her eyes widened, a soft ‘eh’ escaping her lips. “Th-the academy? Yo-you...from the academy? But how...Hey, what age are we in? And what's the name of the headmaster and the F-first senior brother?” The intensity of her questions mirrored the urgency that enveloped this enigmatic space.

So, my intuition was spot on—she indeed hailed from the academy. Yet, the mystery of her arrival in this peculiar place puzzled me. "We’re in the age of calm. The great war is over, and all the races live in harmony. I’ve just joined, so I only know him as the headmaster, and I am yet to meet both him and the first senior brother. I guess you can say I’m yet to meet any of my senior brothers and sisters," I responded, hoping that was enough to calm her down.

“Th-that’s impossible... But...can it be...hey kid, who won the war between the demons and the united armies?”

Kid? I repeated inwardly, she looks no older than 14

“The united armies won. The demon horde was defeated almost 20 years ago. I...I was born the summer the war ended, s-so I don't really know much else” As the words spilled from my lips, a visible shiver coursed through her, before doubt etched across her face. Her reaction raised doubts within me about the authenticity of her presence.

“T-the war is...over...” Her smile, seemingly broken, was accompanied by sudden tears streaming down her cheeks. I remained seated, a silent observer to this amalgamation of sadness and relief.

“Thank the Gods! Sniff-Sniff Thank goodness my sacrifice wasn’t in vain...Sniff Good...I...I can rest now.” Her emotional turmoil unfolded before me, prompting me to grant her the space and time needed for reflection. As she wiped away her tears and descended beside me, a sudden transformation overtook her expression.

“Forgive me... I am Petra... Petra Watermoon. But if you’ve joined the academy now, I guess you should be referring to me as your senior third sister fufufu,” she said, a picturesque smile gracing her face.

Instead of being enchanted, a realization struck me like a thunderbolt. “W-watermoon? D-do-do you know someone who g-goes by the name of...Sh-shava?” I queried tentatively.

Her eyes widened, a beaming smile replacing her previous sorrow. “Shava? YOU KNOW SHAVA? Y-YES I DO...SHE’S MY GRANDDAUGHTER! HAHAHA! Has she become the strongest Magus in the world? Of course, she has, that little chubby baby was always smarter than the other kids. Tell me all about her fame, kid, tell me—tell me. Oh! Is she doing ok? Is she thin? Has she married? Kids?”

The abrupt shift in her mood and proximity left me conflicted, caught between unsure if I should be avoiding her getting so close to me and the flood of inquiries bombarding my ears. In response my immediate response was to remain silent, my answers nonexistent, confirming that this girl before me was far older than her appearance suggested. The unspoken reality unfolded before her, and she reflected, “F-forgive me...my manners have become somewhat quaint after so long,” with a wry smile, causing a twinge of empathy in my heart.

As my mind pondered the length of her entrapment, I couldn't help but wonder about the events that led her to this fate, especially considering her origin from the academy.

“H-hey...are we...inside of the fate stone?” I finally dared to ask, prompting her to nod her head with sad eyes. I wasn't sure what to expect her to say, but her revelation sent shockwaves through me.

“I’ve been here for about...well, let’s just say I stopped counting 29220 days ago.”

‘W-wait...d-did you just say...80 years...’ A cascade of ominous thoughts began to surface, triggering anxiety and whole series of unwanted fears surfacing through me again. In an attempt to escape the encroaching despair, I abruptly stood up, scanning my surroundings for an escape in panic. I had only just returned, and you mean to t-tell me...I was stuck...again?

“D-don’t bother...I spent a long time looking for a way out. Sigh...How did an Elf manage to get stuck in here in the first place? You said your name was Thorjen? Tell me about yourself Four-Gin, about the world out there. Why is the fate stone in the hands of the academy?” She attempted to draw me back with questions, and it took me a little while before I gave in, I remembered what Mastramundus said to me back when I was stuck in that prison. Every realm has some kind of measure to escape.

I rubbed the space between my brows whilst I tried to piece my thoughts together and come up with a plan. I sensed an opportunity—she might be my ticket out of this predicament. As I settled back down, I decided to at least try and gain some cordial understanding between me and her. After all someone who has been stuck here for so long must have knowledge into what is actually going on here.

I began recounting my journey, from my initial venture to my fall. Surprisingly, I disclosed my encounter with the Chaos guardian, Mastramundus, noting the subtle changes in her gaze. Finally, I spoke of my return to the citadel, plagued by the unanswered fate of my mother and best friend, a burden weighing heavily on my chest which actually still hurt when I recounted these events.

As I concluded my recount of the events that had shaped my journey thus far, an unexpected wave of euphoria washed over me, as if the mere act of sharing had lifted a weight I hadn't realized I was carrying. It was peculiar, especially considering the brief duration of our acquaintance, but being in her presence felt oddly calming, almost otherworldly—like an encounter with something ethereal.

She gracefully rose, her childlike bony legs carrying her with an almost supernatural grace. A cascade of blue hair fell against her back as she shifted her head ever so slightly.

“You’ve endured... a lot,” she remarked, her gaze lost in the vacant space around us. I could tell she truly meant that.

After the brief silence settled between us she exhaled a relaxed sigh.

“There’s something about this place you should be aware of. I've been ensnared here long enough to establish a kind of... understanding with its will.”

Its will? As I pondered her words, I delved deeper into my thoughts and recalled the ancient texts I had perused when I was younger—texts that spoke of the relics of the fates. Most lacked a complete understanding of the will of the fates, which explained the awe surrounding the birth of children rumored to comprehend them.

‘Perhaps she's just like me,’ I mused, realizing a shared connection beyond the realm of ordinary comprehension.

The perplexed expression etched on my face seemed to coax a knowing response from her as she continued.

“Before stumbling upon the fate stone, I already felt a sensitivity to the enigmatic energies weaving through life and ****—the vast field of possibilities and the intricate connections between the past and the future. However, being confined within this place for so long... I've managed to unravel the meaning behind it all,” she explained, and I found myself silently captivated, brimming with anticipation for the answers I had sought my entire life perhaps?

‘Why was I different from everyone else?’

‘Why did the fates harbor animosity toward me?’

As she delicately toyed with a small pendant around her neck—an unmistakably radiant golden acorn glinted and caught my eyes—I detected a hint of uncertainty in her gaze. It was as if she waged an internal battle, struggling to say what she had buried deep in her heart.

“When I first discovered my entrapment here, I underwent a peculiar set of trials, I suppose you could call it. A confrontation with a potential future, interwoven with truths, falsehoods, and inexplicable occurrences.”

“I witnessed a horde of dragons ravaging the world, a blood-soaked Queen emerging from the ruins, and then... the **** of my granddaughter, among other things.”

Her gaze shifted towards me, and my heart stirred in response,

“This... this is a relic bestowed upon me by my first master. A relic of the fates, she called it. I dedicated a significant portion of my life to unravelling its mysteries, only to discover its true purpose upon arriving here.”

“And... and what is that?”

“This relic, and I imagine others like it, are... gateways into a world encompassing the present, past, and future.”

Her revelation hit me like a sudden storm, leaving me to sit in the resonating truth in silence. The title of "child of the fates" had always been a nebulous concept for me, but her account of the life she had led within it didn't infuse me with the hope I had expected.

The unimaginable existence she must have endured, confined within this realm for so long, brought to mind Mastramundus and the prison he faced. Anger swelled in my gut, fueled by a growing distaste for the injustices of this world and a burgeoning discontent with the fates themselves.

After a contemplative pause, she approached me again, extending her dainty hand with less reproach and more warmth this time around. As our fingers connected, a small jewel, the golden acorn she wore around her neck, found its place against my palm. Its subtle rocking motion seemed to echo the weight of her words.

“If the relics are the doors, then we... you are the key,” she uttered softly, stepping back. “If you want to understand what the fates want with you...Believe in yourself, will it into existence the doors towards the truth. Envision the deepest depths of your being unlocking the hidden doors. I believe you can do this.”

It was strange, though this entire realm and all the words she spoke seemed far-fetched and uncertain. I chose to blindly trust her words, comforted by the air of understanding that surrounded her. For the first time, I felt as if someone else comprehended the depths of my loneliness. My gaze shifted to the golden acorn, nestled in my palm, radiating an intriguing sense of life. It triggered a familiar feeling, elusive yet recognizable from another moment in my past.

With a sense of urgency, I tightened my grip on the golden egg, closing my eyelids with determination. Time seemed to slip away as I descended into a peaceful embrace reminiscent of sleep and dreams—a comforting quilt of solace very soothingly clothed my bones. Amidst this tranquility, memories of my cultivation and the Dao of chaos stirred within me. I sensed the red bead, no longer a bead now much to my surprise and had grown to a very tiny cut ruby jewel.

As I opened my eyes, the world had transformed once again. In the midst of all the inexplicable occurrences, perhaps I shouldn't have been so surprised by the changes unfolding around me at this point.

I was enveloped by a more aggressive looking fog painted in red and grey, the place exuded an irresistible allure, as if I were cradled within the very heart of a world sculpted from crystals. “This place feels so strange. I don’t know what it is…but something feels to be growing…inside of me.”

Rising to my feet, I surveyed what seemed like an illustrious expanse of empty space. Thoughts of the prison where Marstramundus and I were confined in for so long intensified my anxiety; I fervently hoped this place wasn't as absolute as Petra had suggested.

Just as these concerns crossed my mind, a peculiar light began encircling pockets of the air before me. Instinctively on high alert, I cautiously restrained my steps. The swirling golden orbs expanded, rapidly transforming into five distinctly adorned doors. Each door bore a unique facade—ranging from deep black oak wood to pale ivory, with one even clad in gold, adorned with pink and purple flowers.

As I stood before these foreboding, decorated doors, contemplating what might lie beyond, a delicate voice called out my name. I swiftly turned on my heels, attempting to locate the source.

‘No one is here.’

“Thorjen…look down…it’s me.” Slightly startled, I traced the faint voice until I discovered a small golden creature perched on my wrist. Further inspection revealed it to be a bug-like existence fashioned out of gold casing, akin to the golden egg Petra had handed me.

Suddenly, like a cascade of long-lost puzzle pieces falling into place, my mind unraveled the mystery before me.

“P-petra?” I stammered.

“Thorjen!” The tiny relic's voice resonated with excitement.

“Thank the gods, I thought you were lost...this is good! Although it sadly confirms my earlier fears. I have become one... with the fate stone.”

The weight of those fears sank in. I, too, felt the palpable connection Petra had with this place, a place that seemed to hold her destiny. A wave of profound sadness swept through me, but I resisted succumbing to despair. Instead, I hungered for understanding, yearning to unravel the enigma of this so-called fate and to find a path out.

“What is this place?” I inquired in a bid to change the subject

_“This place... I... I’m not too sure. But when I first arrived here, I was met with a familiar scene. So many doors filled with…” _her voice trailed away again

“What's wrong, Petra? What did you see through those doors?” I pressed, sensing her distress.

“Listen carefully, Thorjen. The fate stone’s will doesn’t want you to leave this place, but it cannot **** you to bend. It must come from your own heart. Whatever you see through those doors, bear it. Do not allow your heart to be consumed by darkness or you might end up like…”

An ominous implication hung in the air, sending a shiver down my spine.

“The past, the present, and the future. The fate stone wields the power to traverse through these three things. But be careful, for the stone will show you lies mixed with the truth to sway your heart. You just need to outlast whatever you’re seeing. Try and discern between what is true and what stands as a lie... for now, that is all I can help you with.”

With Petra by my side, a profound sense of gratitude welled up within me. I could only imagine how uncertain my steps might be without her reassuring presence. Her words infused me with newfound confidence, transforming the potential perils she spoke of into challenges meant to sharpen my vigilance. With that understanding, I stilled my racing heart and fixed a determined gaze upon the five doors, contemplating what might await me behind their sealed portals.

‘Now then… which door should I choose first?’

There stood a Golden Door, entwined in thorny vines, radiating an aura of mystery, but a closer inspection and I noticed the little coifed buds were bleeding a violet blood, running down the thorns.

The White Twin Door, adorned with a white crown and ruby jewels, whispered of regality.

The Tall Narrow Shaped Tree-Like Door, its beastly claw marks hinting at untamed secrets.

The Brass Plated Door, adorned with two cross axes and mysterious runes, exuding an air of strength.

And finally the Crystal Glassed Door, featuring the bust of a wailing woman blindfolded

Each door held a distinct character, a potential gateway to untold wonders or unforeseen dangers. The choice ahead was momentous, and I braced myself to step through the threshold of the unknown.