Selma burst out of the burrow like a woman fleeing the very gates of hell, her body convulsing violently as she doubled over and began vomiting once again.

"BLEEERGH—!"

It was quite strange—she thought for sure that her stomach had already been completely emptied after the last time she had retched.

But somehow, her body had managed to find something else inside to push out, some last reserves of bile and acid that burned her throat on the way up.

She heaved and heaved until there was nothing left.

Saliva dripped from her mouth in long, viscous strings, and she was so weak that she could barely keep herself upright.

But just as she was weakly trying to get herself under control, she felt Luca’s presence by her side.

Before she could even react, his gentle hand was wiping the drool from her mouth with a soft handkerchief.

The touch was surprisingly tender, almost motherly in its care.

Then he gave her a bottle of water. She merely took it, gargled the water in her mouth, spat it out, and then drank the rest. The cool liquid soothed her raw throat, washing away the bitter taste of bile.

She finally looked at Luca..and was surprised.

Because the face looking back at her was completely different from the one she had seen moments ago.

His expression was not the manic, excited one she had just witnessed inside the burrow.

Instead, the face looking down at her was filled with genuine love and concern, like a parent looking at a sick child who needed care.

Before she could say anything, suddenly Luca grabbed onto her and pulled her into a deep, enveloping hug that made her feel warm all over despite the cold sweat that still clung to her skin.

"I’m sorry, Selma." He murmured, his voice thick with emotion, trembling on the edge of heartbreak.

"I’m so sorry you had to witness that."

She blinked, utterly disoriented.

"Even if I wanted to show you." He continued, his words muffled against her hair. "I should have refused myself."

"It was too much..far too much for anyone to see."

"I made the stupid, foolish mistake of revealing everything to you. I truly apologize for that."

Selma stood frozen in his arms, her mind reeling.

Just a minute ago, he had been ripping open a man’s skull with the enthusiasm of a child showing off a new toy.

The grin on his face, the excitement in his eyes...

And now he was holding her like she might shatter, speaking with such genuine remorse that she almost believed he was a different person entirely.

The shift in his personality was all over the place.

He was acting like one person one moment and another person the next.

But then she realized that this wasn’t strange at all.

This was actually quite common for Luca.

After all, his change in moods was honestly even more dramatic than a teenager going through puberty.

Most of the time he would be the same go-happy hero who liked to joke around with others.

But there were also certain levels to that personality.

Sometimes he would be quite overexcited and eager, making foolish jokes and saying some really dumb things, almost like he wasn’t an adult at all.

Other times, he was a bit more mature but still quite lighthearted, his humor more refined and his jokes more clever.

And then there were also times that he would just smile softly at everything without making too much of a reaction, his presence calm and steady like a still lake.

She had seen him in the dead of night, too, when his expression would darken and he would stare off into the distance with unapproachable eyes.

He wasn’t hostile during these times, but there was a weight to his silence that made her hesitate to speak.

Even in conversation, she would sometimes notice sadness lurking behind his smiles.

His lips would curve upward, his voice would carry that familiar warmth, but his eyes told a different story entirely.

They held a deep well of melancholy that he never spoke of.

The most frightening version of Luca, of course, was when his anger surfaced.

Never directed at the elves, but undeniable nonetheless. She had seen him stand motionless in the village square, staring up at the sky with clenched fists, his entire body trembling with rage at something the heavens had apparently done.

And then, in the next breath, he would turn to greet her with a bright smile, as if the fury had never existed.

His emotions were a storm, unpredictable and all-consuming.

The only other person Selma knew who shifted so dramatically was Granny Elna, the village’s eldest elf, well past four hundred winters.

But Granny Edna’s changes came from age, from a mind grown fragile and deluded by the weight of centuries.

Luca looked barely past twenty.

Selma herself was likely twice his age, perhaps more and she had never experienced such volatility.

So why did Luca act like an elf who had lived too many years?

Why did he carry so many versions of himself, each one so distinct and yet so undeniably him?

She didn’t have an answer.

But as she stood there in his arms, she realized she didn’t mind as much as she probably should.

Even at his darkest, he never lashed out at the elves, never treated them poorly.

When his mood was at its lowest, he would force a smile the moment they approached, as if determined not to burden them with his troubles.

It only made him look more pitiful, more in need of comfort he would never ask for.

And now, after showing her the most gruesome sight she had ever witnessed, he was here—comforting her, apologizing to her, as if he hadn’t just been the source of her trauma.

’Exciting.’ She thought vaguely. ’That’s what it was—being around Luca was exciting.’

Because you never knew which version of him you would encounter.

Every meeting was a surprise. Every conversation carried the potential for something unexpected.

It was terrifying and wonderful all at once.

She felt his breath against her ear, and she realized he had leaned down to whisper.

"No matter how much I apologize." He murmured. "I don’t think it will make you forget what you saw."

Selma opened her mouth to disagree.

To tell him that the memory was already fading, that the trauma was blurring into nothing—but he continued before she could speak.

"That’s why I think we should overlay this memory with something much, much better."

His voice had taken on a sultry tone that sent a shiver down her spine. Her face grew warm, and she slowly pulled back to look at him.

"What?" She asked, her voice coming out smaller than intended. "What do you mean, Luca? Replace it with what?"

He leaned in close, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered something into her ear.

Whatever he said, it was working really well. Her face became redder and redder with each passing second. Her ears started fluttering around like butterflies, a sure sign of intense embarrassment.

When he finally pulled back, Selma couldn’t help but stammer out.

"That’s—that’s so naughty! How could you even think about doing something like that?"

She fiddled with her fingers, her face burning with embarrassment.

"And A-Alia and Ivy won’t even agree! They’ll be too shy!"

But Luca just shook his head, his grin widening.

"Trust me, they will." His voice was confident, assured. "What matters right now is if you’re willing or not."

Selma hesitated for a moment, her mind racing with a thousand different thoughts.

The memory of what she had seen in the burrow was already beginning to fade, replaced by the warmth of Luca’s presence and the tantalizing promise of his offer.

Finally, she nodded, her face still burning.

"If...If Alia and Ivy are also willing." She whispered.

"Good girl."

He pressed a kiss to her lips and she felt herself melt against him, the adventurous elf she had always been reduced to a shy maiden in his arms.

He draped an arm over her shoulder, guiding her away from the railing and back toward the village.

"Come along." He said cheerfully, as if nothing unusual had happened at all. "Let’s go find Ivy and Alia."

"Maybe we can pick up a few others as well."

Selma nearly jumped out of her skin.

"No, no!" She protested, her voice rising with panic. "Not too many! Let’s just start with...just the four of us. Baby steps!"

"Then...what about your mother? You should be comfortable with her right?"

"No, definitely not! It’s already strange enough in the house knowing mother and daughter have the child from the same man."

"Then why don’t I make it even more awkward by telling you about your mother’s most sensitive parts."

"Like she likes having her armpits licked—"

"NO DONT!"

"Or how her clit twitches every time I—"

"AHH! STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT!"

"Or how when I took her anal virgini—"

"I HATE YOU, LUCA!"

They started arguing and bickering as they walked away, their voices carrying through the forest like a wholesome couple.

The darkness of the burrow was already fading from Selma’s mind, replaced by the warmth of Luca’s presence and the anticipation of what was to come.

—

Deep inside the tree, Julius could hear them flirting and laughing in the distance. Even after his ears had been modified, the sounds still reached him.

If he had eyeballs right now instead of testicles, he would be crying at the miserable state he was in.

He couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak.

All he could do was hang there, his body slowly being devoured from the inside out, and listen to the sound of the man who had done this to him laughing with the woman who had witnessed his suffering.

He wished, more than anything, that the pain would end one day.

That he would be finally relieved of all of his sins.

That death would come and take him away from this nightmare that had become his existence.

But death, it seemed, was not yet ready to grant him that mercy.

—

It was later in the day, and the sun was setting right now, painting the sky in hues of gold and crimson that bathed the entire valley in a warm, almost ethereal glow.

On top of a small hill overlooking the sacred grounds, two elders of the elf village stood side by side.

Even though they were already over two hundred and fifty years old, with the faintest wrinkles beginning to show beneath their eyes, they still looked enchanting as ever.

Their silver hair flowed gracefully in the evening breeze, and an ethereal aura surrounded them, as if they had long since transcended the ordinary boundaries of mortal life.

They carried themselves with the quiet dignity and respect that came from centuries of wisdom and leadership.

These were Elder Lillian and Elder Shia, some of the most respected elders in the village.

They were also the grandmothers of both Selma and Ivy, and had been the closest friends of the late Grand Matriarch Elna.

But right now, both of them were watching a rather disturbing scene unfolding in the valley below.

—

The Silverleaf Valley had always been a place of peace.

At its heart rose the Holy Tree, an ancient giant that had stood for over a millennium.

Its trunk was impossibly thick, its roots spreading outward like the fingers of some slumbering earth god.

But what made it truly remarkable were its leaves, which shimmered with a silver luminescence that set it apart from the surrounding forest.

Where the rest of the woodland wore the deep greens of life, this tree seemed crafted from moonlight and starlight, a living monument to the magic that had once saturated their world.

In better times, elves would come here to pray to the forest spirits, to seek guidance, or simply to bask in the tree’s serene presence.

The silver leaves would whisper secrets in the wind, and the air would hum with ancient magic.

But those times had passed.

Now, the scene unfolding before the Holy Tree was anything but serene.

A massive hole had been excavated beneath the tree’s roots, a gaping wound in the earth as large as a small swimming pool.

Beside it sat a machine that Lillian recognized as a wood chipper, the kind used to reduce fallen logs to mulch.

But the logs currently being fed into its hungry maw were not wood.

They were male elves.