Time passed without permission.
The day of departure arrived.
Inside the library, two wooden jars filled with my hand-made coffee powder rested on the desk. Elyra sipped her milk coffee. "Bitter," she commented, "but I like it."
"It's time," I said.
"Go to the Dwarves first. Do not be a fool and die pointlessly." There was a painfully thin tremor in her otherwise flat voice.
I stood up, unbuttoning my outer shirt. That fabric was the only "real" thing from my world that I could leave behind.
"This is for you."
Elyra draped my oversized shirt over her elven dress. It looked ridiculous, yet at the same time, profoundly intimate. The scent of my world now embraced her body.
"Does it suit me?"
"Perfectly."
At the village gate, Viela waited. I retrieved my spear and knives from the bushes. The weight of these weapons granted me a cold sense of security.
Then, Elyra. She stood there, the wind playing with the hem of the shirt she wore. She didn't cry. Elves did not weep for things like this.
I took her hand, pressing the back of it against my forehead. Cold.
"My respect to you."
She took my hand, doing the exact same. Pressing the back of my hand to her forehead. Warm.
"And mine to you."
"Go," she whispered.
I turned around. I couldn't look back. If I looked back, I would shatter.
My feet pressed into the dirt. My muscles, having absorbed the energy of this world, screamed for release.
Whoosh!
The ground beneath me cracked.
Boom!
I shot forward. It wasn't just running; I exploded into motion. The wind slapped my face, erasing all hesitation. The trees blurred into streaks. This speed... this was freedom. This was escape.
Far behind me, Viela gaped, her flute nearly slipping from her grasp.
"Master... did you see that? He was hiding the strength of a monster behind that blank face of his."
Elyra closed her eyes, feeling the residual tremors in the earth.
"You troublesome disciple," she murmured, touching the shirt she wore. "How many times are you going to bring lost children to me?"
Viela let out a small laugh, though her eyes were melancholic. "I just didn't want you to be lonely, Master."
"What did you say?"
"Nothing... you virgin grandma," Viela whispered, then blew into her flute.
The melody drifted, weaving into the wind, chasing my back as I grew further away. Time meant nothing to those who were not waiting, yet for those left behind, a single second could feel like an eternity.