Chapter 11: Elarin’s House
Liora thought Kale was lying. It was impossible to change everyone's memory. She had never heard of anything like this.
"Didn't I tell you before?" Kale's voice drifted in Liora's head, dry and distant. "You were erased from the world."
Liora scoffed. "And I'm supposed to believe that? From a devil?"
Kale chuckled. "Of course not. I wouldn't believe a devil either. That's why I'm still single." He paused. "Come on. Let's focus on the baby."
They both turned their attention to the infant—who looked more like a three-year-old—nestled beside the campfire. Tiny, fragile, warm.
No one would believe that was a baby Magnar.
"Let's call him Amorien," Liora said.
The child slept, curled up in Liora's worn cloak.
Kale's voice grew quiet.
> "I knew my plan would fail from the start. But I never intended to flee through teleportation. My plan was to take the Star Blossom, control a mammoth, and escape through the Frostlands—maybe command a few naga to disappear into the rivers."
Liora raised an eyebrow. "So... how do you know this forest?"
> "This forest is called Korok Forest. It was lawless when I arrived. No towns. No trade. Only exiled criminals and rogue royal guards. Every woman was seen as a trophy. Men hunted beasts and offered spirit cores to women, begging for warmth in return.
But sometimes, they forced the women. Some women killed the men after one night and looted everything."
He sighed, his voice touched by memory.
> "Then she came. Lady Elarin. A powerful woman who despised how things were. She didn't like prostitutes—but she sheltered them. Protected them. Gave them food, dignity, and safety. And by doing so, she stopped the place from collapsing into hell."
Liora tilted her head, unsure whether to believe him.
> "She fell in love with a captain of the royal guard—Tharan Veylor. They had three children: Maelis, Rohen, and little Serya. The captain stayed as long as he could… but when his service ended, he tried to remain with her.
But she made him leave. Said he couldn't take the prisoners from this place—but he could take their children out. She stayed behind. Alone."
"And you?" Liora asked.
> "She looked at me one day and said, 'Let's escape together.'" Kale's voice broke slightly. "We fought side by side. We faced things you wouldn't believe. I watched the forest change—from one hundred men to every three women... to maybe ten men per three."
"But when it came time to leave... she didn't make it. She died."
Liora folded her arms. "Sounds convenient. I think you left her behind."
> "No," Kale replied. "If I had really wanted to save her... I could've. But only by taking over her body.
And she was a married woman. That would've been wrong."
Liora blinked. "Why would you need her body?"
> "Because soul merging... merges everything. Magic, spirit, even blood. I could've saved her—but it wouldn't have been her anymore. It would've been both of us, using her face.
What's the point of surviving if you're alive but can't make your own choices? I couldn't do that. Not to her. Not to Tharan."
Liora frowned. "So now no one remembers her? Not even her husband?"
> "No. When they left the forest, they forgot. Everyone forgets. You will too.
But I won't. My kind... we don't forget. That's the real curse. To remember everything."
A long silence stretched between them. The fire crackled. Amorien stirred.
Kale's voice softened again. "Let's make food for the baby. He doesn't need our sorrow. He needs milk and bread."
---
They moved to a market town on the edge of the jungle—Duskmire Crossing, a strange place full of exiles, merchants, and survivors.
Liora used the money she had taken from Hilda's palace.
She bought a house. Not a palace, but it had three floors, a stone kitchen, and a big courtyard. Enough to hold the baby... and maybe others.
> "We should find an orphanage," she murmured.
Kale's reply was instant. "We'll build one. And a bakery too. Let's feed the children, not just protect them."
---
Liora posted recruitment fliers across town:
---
Help Wanted: Orphanage Assistant & Bakers Needed
Room, food, and fair wage provided.
Preference given to women and war survivors.
Inquire at The Golden Loaf, near Eastern Well Road.
---
Then she opened the oven. The smell of warm bread—milk, honey, and steam—filled the house.
She handed the first soft loaf to Amorien, who giggled and kicked his legs.
Watching the baby eat, Liora smiled, just faintly.
> "Kale… why don't you create a clone? Stop hiding."
> "Because if I show my real form, people will recognize me as a devil." He chuckled. "But I have a plan. Give me a potion. I can use it to build a body. A false one. Something ordinary."
Liora hesitated, then nodded. "Alright. But only after the bakery's safe."
---
As night fell, Liora sat in the courtyard beside the baby. Stars blinked through the mist above Duskmire Crossing.
> "We'll need a name," she whispered.
> "For the bakery?" Kale asked.
Liora looked at the flickering oven through the window.
> "No. For the orphanage."
She thought of Lady Elarin—the woman Kale never forgot.
> "Let's call it Elarin's House. She's a legend in this forest."
Kale was quiet for a long time.
> "She would've liked that."
---
The sign outside the new shop swayed in the morning breeze:
Elarin's House
Bread, warmth, and second chances.
Liora stood in front of the building, arms folded, eyes sharp. The windows gleamed. The oven behind her was already warm. On the counter sat a plate stacked with fresh, soft loaves, steam still curling from them. Amorien gurgled behind her in a blanket-lined basket.
Kale's voice murmured inside her skull, amused.
> "You really baked all night? Are you really a princess? Shouldn't you be very delicate—never doing anything on your own?"
> "I bake to stay calm," Liora muttered.
> "How very... maternal."
She ignored him and turned to the small group of applicants outside.
A mix of survivors and strangers had responded to her posters:
Old Jarrik, a grizzled baker with more scars than teeth, once served in the palace kitchens.
Tinael "Tink", a wiry teen girl with grease-stained hands and a satchel full of broken tools.
Sister Emyra, a retired nun with a soothing voice and an iron stare.
A few quiet women with refugee tags, eyes hollow but hopeful.
Liora stepped onto the porch. "This is not just a bakery," she said firmly. "It's a safe place for children. Orphans, the abandoned, and the broken. We feed people, yes—but we also protect."
Jarrik nodded slowly. "Then let me knead peace into dough. It's all I've got left."
Tink saluted. "I'll fix the ovens. You teach me bread, I'll keep your walls standing."
Sister Emyra bowed slightly. "I know how to clean, care, and teach. I've run orphan shelters before. I won't get in your way."
Liora looked at them one by one. Not perfect. But human. And willing.
"You'll do," she said at last.
---
That evening, with the bakery finally staffed, Amorien slept soundly. Liora sat nearby, peaceful for the first time in days.
Kale said, "I investigated with a fly. There's a seller with real werewolf potion. Authentic batch."
She crossed her arms. "You want me to buy you a potion? What will you give me?"
> "I'll give you my heart."
> "I want material things," Liora said flatly. "And the wealth we took from the Magnar Palace isn't yours."
She always suspected Kale would try something shady. She turned away, embarrassed.
> "Fine. We'll go tomorrow. Right now—I need sleep."
---
The bakery opened fully the next day.
Children wandered in, drawn by the smell. A few quiet women left donations. Tink fixed the oven's hinge. Sister Emyra began sorting old blankets for the first batch of orphans. Jarrik shouted at the dough like it owed him money.
Liora left to find the potion.
The potion stall was deep in Duskmire's lower market, where lanterns burned blue and sulfur clung to the air.
> "This is the place. Don't look the merchant in the eyes—he collects memories through contact. Let me talk. He sells fakes."
She didn't ask how Kale knew that.
The stall was made of bones. The curtain was stitched with runes that twitched when stared at too long.
Behind it, a pale woman crouched like a spider over bubbling vials.
> "You seek... power?" she rasped. "Or something with teeth?"
Kale used Liora's mouth, speaking in disguise as an old woman. "I want the Howler's Serum. The gray one. Old batch—not the refined trash you bottle for nobles."
The woman smiled, revealing filed teeth.
> "You know our potions well."
She pulled out a heavy vial. The liquid inside was swirling silver like mercury.
Label:
WEREWOLF ELIXIR – Generation IV
Muscle-booster. Sonic propulsion. Pack-hunter instincts included.
Caution: Extended use may erode human consciousness.
Liora studied the vial. Something flickered inside—not light, but movement.
> "What does it do?" she asked.
> "Gives you gray fur head to heel," the merchant whispered.
"Muscles thicken. Bones stretch.
Claws and fangs sharper than enchanted steel.
Howls that rupture stone—and spirit walls.
Each howl lets you leap, sound as your weapon."
> "Side effects?"
> "Your body will change," the woman said simply. "Maybe madness. Maybe hunger. And the tail? That never goes away."
> "I know what I'm doing," Kale said.
Liora paid three mid-tier pure magic stones.
---
Back at the bakery, the glowing vial sat on the worktable.
> "What exactly do you plan to do with it?" Liora asked.
> "I'll clone myself using this potion. I'll grow from baby to adult werewolf. It'll help us sense danger in the forest. We're too weak now—we need strength."
That night, while Kale gave her privacy, Liora—exhausted from work and stress—fell asleep.
In the shadows, someone crept through the courtyard.
In silence, Amorien was kidnapped.
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