The Statue

The process of crafting the statue was a breathtaking display of magic and material manipulation. Nielle didn’t need a heavy chisel or mallet; a flick of her delicate fingertips and a series of rhythmic whispers were all it took.

As you tried to catch your breath sitting there on the marble throne, she raised her hands, and the dust and fragments of white stone around the room began to levitate. Using a fluid shaping spell, a solid block of massive marble seemed to soften like fresh clay under the elf's command. With graceful, precise gestures, she sculpted every detail of your body: your naive and frail posture, your diminutive stature upon the seat, the chlamys covering only your left side, and the scenographic wing on your back. The pinnacle of her artistic cruelty was capturing the exact expression of vulnerability on your face, with the hints of a flush even suggested by the natural color of the selected mineral.

When the spell finally ceased, there the statue stood: a masterpiece of technical perfection, yet one that immortalized your humiliation and tiny size right in the center of that studio.

The moment Nielle turned to admire her own work, you didn't think twice. You grabbed your clothes with some magic, dressed hurriedly with hands still trembling, and bolted out of that room. Your stomach was tied in knots, your chest heaving, and your head spinning with paranoia about what Killandas might be doing with Luhnasa at that exact second.

You sprinted through the winding corridors of the House of Markab until you locked yourself in your room or a private corner, immediately pulling from your pocket the small, transparent crystal sphere Shalana had given you days ago.

Your hands were shaking so badly you almost dropped the fragile orb. You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to focus your mental energy on an image of your girlfriend, desperately searching for any shred of clarity in your newly discovered divination abilities.

Deep within the transparent core of the glass, faint wisps of silver mist began to swirl, bending the light within the orb into fragmented, floating reflections. Because you were still an inexperienced novice, the visions didn't come through with full clarity; they manifested in disjointed, tantalizing flashes that played directly into your deepest anxieties:

First fragment: The glass mirrored a flash of moonlight over the silvery waters of the southern garden fountains. Killandas stood exceptionally close to Luhnasa, leaning down with that effortless, practiced charisma to whisper something in her ear. She was laughing, a bright, flattered sound that hit your chest like a punch, obviously enjoying the grand attention and the bard's flattering company.

Second fragment: The view shifted through the clear sphere. Killandas subtly closed the remaining distance, his hand reaching out to gently touch her waist to guide her along the marble path. The gesture looked intimate enough to turn your stomach, yet as the mist inside the glass shifted, you caught her subtle body language: she smiled, but gracefully leaned her torso just an inch back, keeping a soft, polite boundary between them without causing a scene.

Third fragment: The tall monitor unclipped a delicate silver trinket from his cloak, a Markab token, and offered it to her with a dramatic bow. Luhnasa looked at the gift, visibly delighted by the praise, but instead of putting it on, she held it casually in her palm and glanced back over her shoulder toward the corridor leading to your room, as if checking whether you were coming to find her.

Before you could read anything more into her eyes, the mist inside the transparent glass dissolved, leaving only your own pale, panicked reflection staring back at you from the empty orb.