GodWithWings
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Ch 68 - You Finally Came
🕑 Added 2025-07-06 18:31:06 +0000 UTCA/N -
I wrote the last 2 chapters a little differently. Did you like the change? Was it more immersive?
With this one Patreon is +18 chapters ahead ^^
Enjoy <3
**
“Stop!”
The voice cut through the forest before Aria and Avenor could take another step. Above them, nestled within the dense canopy of evergreens, shadows stirred. Even in the dead of winter, the Green Tribe’s trees retained their thick cover, unlike the bare branches of the surrounding woods. The pines, which should have radiated their usual deep green, now drooped under the weight of snow, making the homes hidden among them nearly invisible.
But the Velmoryns perched overhead made no attempt to hide. Their bows were already drawn, arrows aimed with precision at the two intruders below. The arrowheads gleamed faint crimson from the mana already infused. There was no hesitation in their posture, no sense that they viewed Aria or Avenor as a threat worth concealing from. If anything, their boldness suggested the opposite. They didn’t expect a fight. They expected an execution.
“Wait… We have not come to fight,” Avenor called out, raising his voice but not his hands. He kept his tone calm, steady. Part of that was on me. Ever since I gave him the gift meant for the Green Tribe, he had calmed down. The fear hadn’t vanished entirely, but he no longer looked like a man marching toward death. “I wish to speak with your Vael.”
“And why is that?” one of the archers sneered from above. “Why should our Vael waste his time on the likes of you?”
Avenor’s brow twitched. His survival instinct usually leaned toward caution, timid, even. But his temper… That was another matter.
“I have a gift for him,” he replied through clenched teeth, exhaling sharply to suppress the irritation that had crept into his voice. Part of his boldness clearly came from the belief that I’d not let him die.
Aria, on the other han,d remained completely detached from the moment as her eyes were darting from tree to tree, like she was looking for something.
The archer, who had worn an amused smirk ever since Avenor made his request, suddenly hesitated. His mockery faltered. It was clear he had seen Avenor as little more than an inconvenience, but now his interest was piqued.
“If he so much as flinches, kill him.” The command came out casually, though clearly meant to reach Avenor’s ears.
Avenor didn’t respond or react. He was no stranger to being underestimated, but something else caught his attention - the archer’s words were directed only toward him. Not Aria.
“Aria,” he muttered, barely shifting his head toward her. “Do you know him?”
“Yes.”
“And?” Avenor’s brow twitched once more. The way Aria spoke sometimes outright irritated him.
“Nothing.” Her voice was flat, disinterested. “I know who he is. He knows who I am.” She shrugged, her gaze now locked on a specific tree. “Avenor, do you sense… anything unusual?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” He hissed the words more out of spite than honesty. Truth was, he couldn’t sense a damn thing. His mana perception was barely better than average. Unless it involved divine power, he might’ve been the densest Velmoryn above Bronze Rank.
And yet, something about Aria’s tone, or maybe the way she said it, unnerved him. His gaze drifted upward, scanning the trees without really knowing what he was looking for. It was a useless effort, the kind that only made you feel like you were doing something while accomplishing absolutely nothing.
“We’ll allow you to meet the Vael,” the familiar voice called down, its mocking tone as smug as before. “But you’ll need to surrender your weapons, and we’ll be placing mana-restricting artifacts on you.”
“What?” Avenor stiffened. The words caught him off guard. Caught me off guard, too. Mana-restricting artifacts? That was new. I hadn’t even heard about them, and I could already imagine how miserable they’d feel for someone like Aria, who loved magic probably more than life.
But she didn’t even flinch.
“If they’re placing those on us,” Aria said calmly, “it means they’re guaranteeing our safety, it’s a taboo. I’ll store your weapons in my Veilspace.”
Avenor already knew her storage space was much larger than his. The Goddess hadn’t exactly gone out of her way to equip her vessel with anything decent. The Goddess’ ring he used offered the bare minimum storage space.
“Fine,” he muttered, handing over his new shield and blade. His lips pressed into a thin line. He watched as Aria stored the weapons in the bracelet she wore on her right hand and was always covered by her long sleeves.
“Verde, you bastard… If they kill me, I swear I’ll curse you from the afterlife.”
The threat didn’t bother me. Not even a little. If Avenor was complaining, it meant he was not plotting against me. It was when he stopped that I’d have to worry. The day he grew quiet and agreeable, that’s when I’d know he was planning something. But since I could read his thoughts whenever I pleased, I wasn’t particularly worried.
“Aria… is it really safe? Can we trust them?”
“For Velmoryns, taboo is absolute,” Aria replied, though her tone carried faintest traces of bitterness. “It’s almost as binding as a God’s command. As long as we don’t push them too far, they’ll do everything they can to keep us alive and unharmed.”
Just a few steps ahead, a platform began descending from the trees. It was suspended by thick vines, creaking as they moved through a large wooden wheel mechanism.
A rather neat lift, I mused, watching the mechanism in motion. I admired the Green Tribe. They were far more developed than the others. That alone made me hesitant to use the same approach I had with the Yellow Tribe. Well, that, and the powerful mage the Green Tribe hosted. I wanted to convert her rather than provoke and cause her to become my enemy.
So I decided to be patient and try a different, more straightforward approach.
“Were you the one making threats from above?” Avenor asked as the archer descended. The man now had his bow slung across his back and held two sets of enchanted cuffs in his hands.
“We don’t make threats,” the archer replied flatly, casting a sideways glance at Avenor, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement. But when his gaze shifted to Aria, all trace of mockery vanished.
“Aria… if it were up to me, I wouldn’t put these on you.”
“I know,” she answered simply, extending her wrists without hesitation. “May I place the one on my neck myself?”
“Of course.”
His movements were delicate, almost reverent, as he fastened the cuffs around her wrists. The moment the metal closed, they shimmered dark crimson, resizing themselves to fit snugly around her slender arms. Then he handed her the third one - the collar, connected to the others by a dark metal chain.
Aria took it without pause and clasped it around her neck. The same crimson glow pulsed through the rune-carved metal, sealing the enchantment.
She exhaled, shoulders shifting with a faint discomfort as her mana slipped from her grasp. The connection was severed. She could no longer draw on her power.
“Now you,” the archer turned to Avenor. This time there was no gentleness, no courtesy. He snapped the cuffs onto Avenor’s wrists and fastened the collar in one swift motion, so fast that Avenor had no time to protest.
“Your tribe’s hospitality leaves something to be desired,” Avenor muttered, the jab more for his wounded pride than anything else.
“We are hospitable,” the archer replied with a smug grin, “to those who are welcome.”
“Well, that I can understand.” Avenor shrugged, then let his gaze drift toward Aria. “Though it seems she isn’t welcome either…”
He sighed dramatically, glancing at the archer from the corner of his eye. The reaction didn’t disappoint - he caught the subtle flicker of discomfort as the archer turned toward Aria with something that almost resembled an apology.
“That…”
“We’ll leave the moment we meet their Vael,” Avenor continued this time practically patting Aria on the head, like he was trying to console the heartbroken Velmoryn. But she didn’t join the act. Her expression remained as detached as ever.
“If that’s your wish, then follow me,” the archer sneered, already stepping onto the square wooden platform. It had no railings, no support, nothing to offer balance, just a flat lift suspended by thick vines.
Avenor stepped on without hesitation… and paused when he realized Aria hadn’t followed.
“Aria?” he asked, genuinely confused.
“I… hate heights,” she muttered through clenched teeth. Her wide eyes were locked on the unstable platform, and the color had drained from her dark ruby lips.
Avenor started to laugh, but stopped when he noticed it wasn’t just fear, she was starting to panic.
“Is there no other way up?” he asked, turning to the archer, this time expecting an honest answer.
“None. But maybe she could sit, and we’ll hold her steady?” the archer offered, tone unusually cooperative.
Avenor’s lip curled in amusement, enjoying the irony of the smug bastard now trying to help.
“What if she panics halfway up? With my mana sealed, I won’t be able to…”
“The taboo goes both ways, Avenor.” Aria’s voice cut him off. “We agreed to the terms. We shall not break them.”
She stepped onto the platform without another word, but the moment her footing shifted and the platform swayed slightly, her nails dug deep into Avenor’s arm. He groaned.
“Hah! Use him as your anchor, Aria,” the archer laughed. Then he looked up and shouted, “Lift us!”
As the platform began to rise, Aria grew visibly tenser. Her eyes remained fixed on the forest floor below, now shrinking with each passing moment. The height blurred her vision, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away. She edged closer to Avenor, hands latching onto his with surprising strength.
It took Avenor a moment to realize what she needed. Gently, he turned her toward him and guided her head against his chest, shielding her view. With her no longer seeing the drop, and Avenor shifting his legs into a wider stance to steady them both, the trembling in her shoulders eased. His arms wrapped around her in a slow, careful motion, pulling her closer, not just to comfort her, but because he caught the archer watching him from the corner of his eye. The man’s poorly concealed irritation was all the revenge Avenor needed.
By the time the platform reached the top, Avenor was the only passenger who’d had a wonderful ride, for two very different reasons.
But his grin vanished the moment they stepped off the lift. A group of Velmoryns, all clad in leather armor and armed with long spears, met them without a word. Their weapons didn’t draw blood, but they didn’t need to. The way they pressed in spoke volumes.
“Follow us.”
Avenor obeyed, guiding Aria with slow, steady steps. She stayed close, practically clinging to his side. The restraints on his arms made navigation awkward, and the swaying bridge didn’t help. Even he struggled with the shifting balance at first, though once he got the rhythm of the planks, he moved with ease. His physical stats saw to that; losing balance simply wasn’t an option.
They were led to what looked like a massive hollow in the trunk of an ancient tree. But unlike something carved by tools, the shape appeared natural, grown, not made. In a world where magic shaped reality, it was hard to be sure though.
“Is the Vael inside?” Avenor asked as the guards stopped beside the entrance.
“Yes. You two will go in alone,” the archer replied, eyes still fixed on Aria with a weird glint.
Avenor gave a short nod, then stepped forward, guiding Aria through the hanging curtain of vines and flowers. Even in winter, they bloomed. Under other circumstances, I might’ve admired the sight, but right now, all I cared about was whether I could still follow them using the Window. Alone, I couldn’t see into places like this.
Thankfully, my vision pushed through as the two entered.
The space inside was simple but alive. Runes covered the walls, ceiling, even the floor, glowing faintest silver. Some of them must have regulated the temperature, because Avenor, who’d been shivering just minutes ago, now stood in perfect comfort.
Two figures were inside.
The first was an older Velmoryn, seated in a curved wooden chair, sipping something from a clay mug.
The second was... an elf.
She had long blond hair and piercing cyan eyes. She was nearly as tall as Avenor and leaner than Aria, though her figure was hard to read beneath the loose, draping robe. She didn’t move at first, but the moment Avenor stepped into the room, her head snapped toward him.
She scanned him carefully, her eyes widening with each passing moment.
And then she smiled. A smile of relief.
“Y-you finally came…”
Comments
Nadia Bakker
Is that Freya? As in the Freya that should have been inside the dungeon, not the velmoryn wife.
