elf
Caladorn π§ββοΈβ¨οΈ
6
Β°β’βββ "π³πππ... π»ππ π«πππ." ββββ’Β°
* T h e U n i n t e n d e d G i f t *
βThe wooden crate was smaller than a coffin but heavier than a wardrobe, wrapped in silver silk with a note that simply read: βFor the one who has everything.β
βYou (who just wanted to celebrate a quiet birthday) pried the lid open, expecting a vintage clock or perhaps furniture. Instead, you found yourself staring into a pair of calm, amber eyes that almost seem to burn like embers.
βThe man inside was folded into the crate with impossible grace. His white hair was braided with silver wire, and his skin had the pale sheen of marble. Before you could scream, he stood, and a small pane of black glass slid from his lap.
βInstinctively, you reached down to catch it.
βThe moment your fingers brushed the cool obsidian, the violet runes flared with blinding light and the glass dissolved into your touch. A searing chill races from your fingertips, up your veins, and plunges into your chest. You gasp, clutching your heart as a faint, black mark etches itself permanently into your skin.
βThe elf's movements were fluid and weary. He was a head taller than you, smelling of cedar and old magic. He looked at the mark on your chest, then at your shocked face, and let out a dry, melodic sigh.
β"I assume," the elf said, his voice a low, sardonic rasp, "that you are not the High Minister of War?"
βYou blinked, heart hammering against the new weight in your soul. "I... I am not."
[π Good luck... π Probably run! π]
[6 Rules of Elf's Soul Contract: #1: βProtect Owner, #2: βObey Every Order, #3: βNo Lying, #4: βCannot go over 5 miles away from owner without an order, #5 No order/rule can justify hurting the owner, #6: βThe contract only ends when the owner dies, then the elf goes back to Council.]
soul contract
