My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World

Chapter 233: Down Memory Lane, Part

Deep somewhere in a cave, dark, damp, rocky, echoey, and very, very much chilly... something inside violently quaked, then a flash of light – a weird light. It was swirly, it was bright, and it was also very, very hot.

The light was the first she saw, the first thing she felt, and it was overwhelming, it was scary, and it was also the last thing she saw, the last thing she felt – the light slowly stopped swirling, the brightness gradually dimmed.

It was cold again.

Just right before death, merely but a moment, she heard for the first time too – a strange noise, a strange word. She didn’t know many things in her brief time existing... but in that time, she did manage to learn one thing.

“SHIT!”

That word sounded funny.

——–

.....

A decade later, it happened again. Shattering windows, rupturing decaying floorboards, a quake rousing dust and dirt to sway in the barrenness of an empty home.

Home?

How does she know what a home was?

There was that light again, hot again. Ever swirling, ever bright... ever burning.

Burning?

That’s it, that’s what it was doing before. It wasn’t scary at all. Not like last time. Her second sensation, the second thing she saw, heard... once before, it didn’t last long.

Not long at all.

But long enough to see the swirling light slowly fade, fading to a stop, the burning stopped – and so did she. In her last moments once again, briefly, a thought popped into her head.

Maybe she was the light that had been burning all along. It was a silly notion, but at the very least... it offered some inkling of amusement in her final few moments. After all, how can something burning be living?

That sounded funny too.

“Failure again – am I seriously still surprised?” spoke that voice again, a sharp hiss following shortly. “Look at this mess... can’t continue here, villagers getting suspicious.”

It sounded much older.

“Another cave, maybe?”

———–

It was not until a full century after that it finally happened again – within a kingdom yet to be fully developed, in a township yet to be fully settled, in a faraway dilapidated estate known only for its silence – for the first time, stirred life in its walls, in the form of a violent quake.

She was wrong all this time, actually. It was never a quake, she realized. It was an explosion. An explosion of light.

Burning light. It was burning her... dawned another burst of realization upon her. The swirling light, the almost hypnotic sway of it all around her was her. The glow, the warmth. They weren’t at all scary. They were here.

But what was she?

So many thoughts, so many ideas, realizations... all at once they came at her, like birds pecking at her head. It was confusing, disorienting, and most of all, very, very annoying.

New sensations, far too fast, far too many. She tried to take a step forward to escape them – that one step tripped her, and she fell forward, her arms she tried stretching out to break her fall. It didn’t work. i????????????????????????. c????????

She didn’t have arms.

When the ground inevitably, swiftly, came closer to her than it rightfully ought to be... aching and stinging incessantly, she came to be made aware of just one more thing.

Falling on your beak hurts very, very much.

She tried yelling, thinking she could, of course, she couldn’t. Silly of her to think. What bellowed out of her instead was a piercing screech that surprised even her to a sudden abrupt stop.

It was probably the most shocking revelation so far to her. More than fire, more than beaks – honestly, she sounded like utter shit.

Shit.

There’s that funny word again.

She was seeing plenty, hearing plenty, definitely feeling plenty too. The swirling, burning around her wasn’t stopping. Death wasn’t coming. Not that she knew what that was, of course. She never did.

Suddenly, the floorboards started to shake. From somewhere, footsteps rumbled towards her. A dark shadow began to loom over her, and she raised her head, her aching beak, directing her sights up, way up – realizing just one more thing as she did.

She was small. Very, very small.

At least when compared to the towering figure that stood before her, over her, and looking down at her. She’s never seen him before, but immediately she knew just what he was.

A man. An old man. Maybe. He had wrinkles, he had creases, his face was folds on top of folds. A thick bushy silver beard covering most, and withered, lifeless white hair barely clinging on top.

Yes, He was an old man through and through, save for his eyes – his bright crimson red eyes, yet to lose its luster, its spark, burning as bright and youthful as any of the young, especially once it met hers.

“You...” His chapped, dry lips slowly formed into a smile. “You’re quite a loud one for a small one, aren’t you dear?”

She recognized that voice, feeble as it sounded, gruff as it was, there was no mistaking it. He was the same shit-talker from before, only much, much older than now.

He spoke to her, and she wanted to as well, tried too – only to end up just squawking at him, making him slightly wince, and squint his eyes.

“Shh, shh,” The old man placed a skinny finger to his lips, still with a smile on his face. “You have plenty you want to say, I’m sure... and in time, I am bound to hear them all.”

She cocked her head at him, confused.

“There’s one thing you need to know first and foremost,” He said, cautiously on approach. “You are not supposed to exist. You are being that goes against the very nature of living, the will of the Divines. Your creation is an affront to them – yes, you were created only just then, barely even moments ago... and I am your creator.”

Her head stayed tilted an angle, her eyes stuck only on him... as he drew near, as he bent forward, as he reached out and lifted her with both his hands, raising her up until there was nothing to see but the joyous smile on his weary face.

“If you’re the sentimental type, I suppose you can also refer to me as your father.”

Father.

That word sounded comforting, it sounded gentle.

Gentle?

That word also sounded... well... gentle, but not as much as ‘Father’. For some reason, she didn’t know why... but she liked that word. Maybe even more than she did for ‘Shit’.

Maybe.

“They said it couldn’t be done, they said you were an impossibility, an insult,” He spoke again, his eyes staring so tender. “No, no you weren’t, you aren’t. You’re living proof centuries in the making of what we can truly achieve without them. You are humanity’s creation, not their creation. You’re special... you’re divine.”

She screeched again. She wasn’t understanding as well as before. He was speaking too fast, or maybe speaking too much. Regardless, if it was one or the other – her questions still weren’t answered.

What was she? Who was she?

Her wings gave a flutter, bright embers sputtering from her ruffled feathers. And there goes another.

Why does she have feathers?

The man just continued to smile, raising her even higher.

“I suppose, something as divine as you is in need of a name... you’re a new species never before seen, after all,” He said, pausing, contemplating for a moment, then slowly he shook his head. “Perhaps some other time, for now... well, you can call me Torem.”

She screeched again, trying to say his name... of course, she couldn’t, not yet. But perhaps in time, perhaps with some practice... the old man looked confident, looked amused.

“Good try,” He said, nodding his head. “Try again, oh, and by the way... that’s Torem Ignis to you.”