Chapitre 110: Cora - 2
The chains around my wrists and ankles chafed against my skin, a constant reminder of my captivity. I pulled at them slightly, testing their strength, but they held fast.
"Nice of you to join us princess." one of the riders said.
"I hope you keel over." I snapped back.
A large bump threatened to toss us from the wagon, and I clutched the sides to steady myself.
"Woah, that's no way to treat your family." he replied.
The wagon jostled again, the rough terrain making every bump feel like a deliberate act of discomfort. The wooden planks beneath me creaked and groaned, adding to the already oppressive atmosphere.
"Family? You stole me from my estate!" I retorted, my voice rising with each word.
I glared at the rider, his casual demeanor only fueling my anger. His armor, though battered, shone with a strange, almost ethereal light, reflecting the setting sun.
"Your father is not the only family of you." he said.
"Of course he is."
The other captives around me stirred slightly, their chains clinking softly. They all wore expressions of resignation, their eyes void of hope. The sight of them only deepened my resolve to find answers.
"Not true. You just have not been introduced to us." he replied.
"So you kidnap me for a heartfelt reunion?" I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
"We did no such thing. We are escorting you-" he said.
"Escorting involves chain and rags?" I rhetorically asked.
"Slave convoys are less likely to be targeted by raider than a noble caravan." he explained.
"Oh, dear me, Thank you for kidnapping, stripping, and binding me, against my will, to protect me from raiders." I mockingly said.
"You're welcome." he replied with a toothless smile and a slight tilt of his head.
"Where are we headed?" I asked.
"You're mother's home." he said.
The wind brushed the knight's hair off his ears. They were sharp, knife ears.
"You're..." I started, realization dawning on me.
"What?"
"Elves?" I whispered, hardly believing my own words.
"Aye. Much like your mother." he confirmed.
"That makes me..."
"An elf. And dense as a water-clogged log." he added with a smirk.
"If- if this is all some ruse to protect me, then who are these people?" I asked, gesturing to the other captives.
"We're also under the service of your family, my lady." one of them said, their voice tired but respectful.
"Oh great. Predators on both sides." I muttered.
I curled up, as far from anyone as possible. Why would my own flesh humiliate me?
The sky above began to darken, the first stars appearing like distant beacons of hope. I stared up at them, wishing for some form of divine intervention, a sign that everything would be alright.
The wagon finally came to a halt as dusk settled into night. The elves dismounted, their movements fluid and precise. I watched warily as they spread out around the clearing, their hands glowing faintly with an otherworldly light.
With a few murmured words and gestures, they began to manipulate the earth around us. Roots and vines sprouted from the ground, twisting and weaving together to form shelters that seemed to grow organically from the earth itself. In the center of the camp, a circle of stones appeared, and with another wave of their hands, a fire sprang to life within it.
As the flames grew, their heat became unbearable. The fire burned too hot, sending waves of intense heat our way. Ash and sparks flew into the air, threatening to catch our tattered clothes alight. I squirmed, trying to shield myself from the searing heat.
The elves turned their attention to us. One by one, we were dragged from the wagon and lined up against a sturdy old tree. The bark was rough against my back as they strung us up, our hands bound above our heads, just high enough that our toes barely touched the ground.
"If this just pretense, why such accuracy in our treatment?" I demanded, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear.
One of the elves, the same one who had spoken to me earlier, stepped forward.
His expression was unreadable as he replied, "If bandits pass by at night, it would be odd for slaves to be sleeping in the same conditions as their captors. This way, we maintain the ploy."
I tugged at the chains, frustration boiling over. "This is madness! I'm not a slave!"
The elf's gaze hardened. "For now, you are."
The heat from the fire intensified, and I could feel the sweat trickling down my face. The flames crackled and roared, casting long shadows across the camp. The other captives hung silently beside me, their expressions a mix of defeat and resignation.
Great actors these were. I wanted to trust the elves words. He sounded convincing enough, and elves are not known for dabbling in the trade. However, some facet of this ordeal betrayed the sincerity of his words. Something I cannot quite place.
As the night wore on, the elves settled into their makeshift shelters, leaving us bound and exposed. The fire's relentless heat seemed to grow hotter, and the sparks that flew from it felt like tiny embers of torment. I tried to turn my face away, but the chains held me fast.
Sleep was impossible. My arms ached from being suspended, my wrists raw from the rough bindings. The gnarled bark of the tree dug into my back, its jagged edges pressing painfully against my skin. My loose rags provided little protection, their poorly placed holes allowing the night's chill to seep in.
Exhaustion began to creep in, a heavy, insistent weight that I could no longer resist. My body, despite the discomfort, began to shut down. My head drooped forward, my vision blurring as sleep's insidious grasp tightened around me.
In the hazy space between wakefulness and sleep, I thought I heard the faint rustling of leaves, the distant call of a night bird. The world around me began to fade, the oppressive heat of the fire and the biting chill of the wind blurring into a distant hum.
Finally, I slipped into unconsciousness, my body hanging limply from the tree.
Morning came too soon. I was barely awake when they approached us, their hands glowing faintly green.
"Hold still," one of them commanded.
I felt a warmth spread through my body as his hands hovered over my wounds. Healing magic. It was the first act of kindness I had received since this nightmare began, though it was marred by the knowledge that it might have meant to keep us in a presentable condition rather than out of genuine concern, conversely it might be to keep our stamina up despite our lack of food.
They released us from the tree, our hands still bound but now in front of us, allowing us some measure of movement. I flexed my fingers, feeling the stiffness from the long night start to ease. The other captives, too, were rejuvenated, their weary faces showing a brief glimmer of relief.
We set off again, the elves keeping a watchful eye on us. The road ahead was long, and the days began to blur together. The trodden paths turned into grass fields, the tall blades swaying gently in the breeze. These, in turn, faded into light woods, the trees growing denser with each passing day.
Each night we made camp, and each night the routine repeated. We were strung up against trees or abandoned watchtowers. The healing magic kept us in good enough condition to continue, but the lack of proper food left us weak and hungry.
After a fortnight of this relentless travel, my body had grown accustomed to the constant motion, the ever-present ache of hunger, and the feel of rough bark against my back. The grass fields had given way to the light woods, the trees now providing some measure of shelter from the elements.
One evening, as we made camp in a particularly dense part of the forest, I noticed something different in the air.
"Are we close?" I dared to ask, my voice hoarse from days of abuse.
The lead elf nodded, his expression unreadable. "We are nearing your mother's domain. Soon, you will have the answers you seek."
That night, as we hung from the trees once more, I found myself unable to sleep. The air was thick with expectation, and my mind raced with questions.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone