The morning mist blanketing the village of Elafindi was exceptionally strange today. It hung thick in the air, swirling with a faint reddish-pink hue. More importantly, it carried a peculiar fragrance—a mysterious scent that induced an indescribable, intoxicating euphoria.
Amidst the thick fog, a gargantuan figure slowly emerged from the veil of mist.
It was a giant wolf with silver-grey fur, its massive size eclipsing even that of a flying dragon. Reclining upon its broad back was an Elven woman. She possessed long, flowing brown hair and wore a white garment trimmed in crimson, which fluttered gracefully with every rhythmic stride of her monstrous mount.
"This fragrant mist has already enveloped the entire village, Vanessa," the giant wolf's deep, guttural voice rumbled, conversing naturally with the woman on its back.
The woman named Vanessa opened her eyes a fraction and murmured softly, "I suppose there isn't a single Elf left in this village, is there?"
"Judging by the scents that linger in the air, only Humans and Dwarves remain," the giant wolf replied instantly.
Vanessa slowly shifted from her reclining position, sitting cross-legged with her back perfectly straight against the wolf's spine. Her gaze pierced through the mist, fixing upon the hills ahead.
"Vaness… do you know?" she spoke slowly. "Up on that hill… a small house once stood."
The giant wolf fell silent for a moment before responding in a flat tone, "You have told me this before... that once, this place was your home."
Vanessa's eyes remained locked onto the hill fading into the fog. She then spoke in a voice even softer than before. "If I had still been here that day…" She paused for a heartbeat. "This village… would never have fallen into the hands of the Dwarves."
The mist continued to drift lazily, blanketing the silent village.
"Let us wake them," Vaness, the giant wolf, suggested.
"Go ahead. Howl with all your might. Make them all gather here," Vanessa commanded, leaping down from the beast's back to stand at the ready.
At her command, Vaness drew in a massive breath. Its immense chest expanded like a swelling mountain, brimming with sheer power, before it tilted its head toward a sky obscured by the mist.
"HOOOO-RRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!"
The long, drawn-out howl echoed far and wide, a sound so deep and thunderous that the surrounding air vibrated in visible ripples. It was no mere animalistic cry; it was a deafening roar saturated with raw magical energy.
The shockwaves of the howl reached every corner of the village, tearing through the ears of everyone still slumbering in their homes. Drowsiness was instantly shattered by panic, and within a mere heartbeat, that panic twisted into absolute terror.
As the reverberating howl gradually faded, Vanessa reached out, her hand gently stroking the giant wolf's silver-grey fur.
The two waited in silence. Before long, the frantic thud of hurried footsteps and panicked chatter erupted across the village. Within moments, a large crowd had amassed in the open square before them, exactly as Vanessa and Vaness had anticipated.
Seeing the villagers fully assembled, Vanessa drew a deep breath and projected her voice with echoing clarity.
"Deliver the axe, Snow White, to me…" She paused, her icy gaze sweeping over the terrified crowd before delivering her final ultimatum in a chilling tone. "Otherwise… no living thing in this village shall be left alive."
Shortly after, a group of Dwarves shoved their way through the throng. Clad in heavy armor and fully armed, they appeared ready for battle.
One of them stepped forward as their representative, shouting in a firm, ferocious voice, "Who are you?"
Vanessa turned toward the voice with agonizing slowness. Her eyes locked onto the man before she replied in a flat, deadpan tone, "I sincerely hope you are not the one in possession of Snow White."
The Dwarven warrior knit his brows tightly at the response.
"What nonsense are you spouting? I don't understand a word of it!" he barked, stepping toward the Elven woman without a shred of fear.
Vanessa raised her hand with deliberate slowness and pointed a single finger at the Dwarven warrior from afar. Her eyes were as cold as a glacier. "Die."
A single, short command slipped past her lips.
Suddenly—
"Ka… cough!"
The Dwarven warrior flinched violently. His body shuddered uncontrollably. Both hands flew to his throat as if the air had been violently ripped from his lungs. Then, an intense, internal agony exploded within him. Thick black blood erupted from his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears.
In mere moments, the sturdy Dwarf collapsed, falling heavily onto his back. His eyes bulged with stark terror before everything went dead silent.
He had died... extinguished by a single sentence from the Elven woman.
The onlookers were paralyzed with shock. This Dwarf was no ordinary villager; he was one of their most formidable warriors and the Deputy Chief of the village. Yet, a man of such strength had met a pathetic end, struck down merely because the woman standing before them had pointed her finger.
A collective murmur of pure dread rippled through the crowd.
Vanessa observed the gruesome scene with utter calm, as though witnessing the most mundane event in the world. She then spoke, her voice dropping to a chilling register.
"Let it be known. As of this moment… every single one of you is infected by my poison magic."
The declaration struck the entire village dumb.
Vanessa turned slowly, her gaze sweeping over the crowd to ensure everyone heard her clearly. "If anyone disobeys…" She raised her finger just a fraction. "At my command, you will die instantly."
The faint pink mist still clung to the village, and that mysterious, intoxicating fragrance lingered in the air, undiminished.
Finally, a man stepped out from the trembling crowd. He was a middle-aged Human—tall, robust, wearing a thick moustache, and possessing a demeanor far more composed than the rest.
"Hold," the man called out. "What have we ever done to offend you? Why do you act with such senseless cruelty?"
Vanessa regarded the man for a moment before answering impassively, "I follow the orders of the Elven Queen, Embla."
That name caused visible flinches throughout the crowd.
Vanessa continued, "I am tasked with finding the axe, Snow White. I know well that Queen Yellow Bean once possessed it." Her eyes swept over the faces before her once more. "Even though she is now dead, someone among you… must know where she hid it."
The Humans interspersed among the Dwarves instinctively turned their eyes toward a specific Dwarf standing among the armored warriors.
That Dwarf was named Járnerve. He was the son of Queen Yellow Bean and the current Chief of the village.
Járnerve stood rigidly for a moment, his hands tightening around the handle of his axe as if weighing a desperate choice. He did not dare look directly at the Elven woman who dealt death with a mere word. Ultimately, he looked toward his villagers instead and spoke, his voice trembling.
"What Snow White axe? I know nothing of it."
Judging by the collective gaze of the crowd, Vanessa instantly deduced that this Dwarf knew more than anyone else present. She spoke in a flat, unyielding tone.
"Vaness… fetch him."
At that command, the silver-grey giant wolf sprang into action. In the blink of an eye, its massive body lunged forward, becoming a terrifying blur that the villagers could barely track. A violent gust of wind blasted the crowd, forcing many to stumble backward before they could even brace themselves.
"Gah—!"
Járnerve was already caught in the giant wolf's maw. But Vaness did not bite down; it merely clamped its teeth onto the armor at his shoulder and leapt back with the same blinding speed.
In a fraction of a second, the Village Chief was unceremoniously hurled down before Vanessa.
Thud!
Járnerve hit the earth hard, kicking up a cloud of dust. He scrambled to his feet, but froze the moment he looked up. Before him loomed the Elven woman who commanded death itself.
Vanessa looked down at the Dwarf kneeling at her feet with glacial indifference. Behind him, Vaness stood menacingly, its sharp white fangs bared accompanied by a low, throat-rattling growl.
Vanessa tilted her head slightly and spoke with serene composure, "Now… it is much easier for us to converse."
She leaned down, bringing her eyes level with his, and spoke in a voice as cold and sharp as a blade pressed against an exposed throat.
"I will ask you once more. Where is Snow White?"
Járnerve had never known true fear in his life. Raised as the son of Queen Yellow Bean, he had survived countless battlefields and faced adversaries far stronger than himself. But this… this was entirely different. His body quaked uncontrollably.
The image of the giant wolf lunging at him was seared into his mind—those colossal white fangs that had nearly crushed his skull in a single bite. The foul stench of the beast's breath still seemed to burn his nostrils.
Járnerve bowed his head, pressing his hands firmly into the dirt. His lips quivered before he managed to force the words out. "Spare… my… life…"
His voice was frail and broken, as if his throat had gone completely dry.
Vanessa watched the pathetic display calmly, her eyes completely devoid of mercy. "Speak," she commanded slowly.
Járnerve squeezed his eyes shut, agonizing over the hardest decision of his life. Finally, he looked up slightly, his gaze brimming with dread. "I… I am not lying…" He swallowed hard. "The axe, Snow White… it was never in this village."
Vanessa narrowed her eyes. "Explain."
"Ever since we… were defeated by the Afbarahants clan," Járnerve took a shaky breath before answering, "we lost that magical axe."
He paused, gathering his breath. "Therefore, when my mother led our forces back to this village… she no longer possessed Snow White."
Those words caused Vanessa's gaze to harden instantly. "You claim this…" her voice dropped to a freezing whisper. "Meaning Snow White is with the Afbarahants clan, and not with you?"
"Yes…" Járnerve nodded slowly. "We were defeated and lost everything in the Kingdom of Sterkburin."
Vanessa stared him down, her gaze seemingly piercing straight through his skull to his very thoughts. "You wouldn't dare deceive me, would you?"
Járnerve frantically pressed his forehead to the dirt. "No… I wouldn't dare deceive you," he whimpered. "Please, spare my life."
"You claim your mother lost everything in the Kingdom of Sterkburin," Vanessa fell silent for a moment before posing her next question. "Then who took her axe?"
Járnerve looked up just a fraction to answer. "His name is Lofar Afbarahants. Before all this… he was the Lord of the Great City of Grnnstjarna, the capital of the Sterkburin Kingdom."
The moment that name was uttered, Vanessa's body gave a barely perceptible jolt. That name… Lofar… she knew it intimately well. He was the man she had assassinated with her very own hands. At the time, she had believed him to be the King of Sterkburin. And it was from the events of that day that she had met a certain Dwarf who later became her loyal companion—Mikilllfr.
"You must know, if you are lying to me, you will die. Everyone in this village will die," Vanessa whispered lethally into Járnerve's ear.
The threat made Járnerve's robust frame violently shudder.
"I… I understand…" he stammered. "I am terrified… I would not dare lie to you."
Vanessa stared at him, her gaze utterly devoid of pity, before letting out a soft, almost weary sigh. "Even so…" she began slowly.
"…you still bear the bloodline of that woman."
Járnerve looked up, utter confusion washing over his face.
"I—" But before he could utter another syllable, Vanessa continued in a flat, detached tone, "Consider this… your sacrifice for the survival of this village."
Járnerve's eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated shock.
"Wai—"
Vanessa entertained no pleas. She slowly raised her finger and pointed it directly at the center of Járnerve's forehead. Her eyes were frigid as old memories surfaced—the bitter humiliation that Queen Yellow Bean had once inflicted upon the Bladnir clan in this very village.
"Die."
The short command slipped effortlessly from her lips.
Instantly, Járnerve's body convulsed violently. The muscles across his sturdy frame seized beyond his control. His eyes locked wide open as thick black blood erupted from his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears.
Barely a few heartbeats later, the Village Chief's lifeless body slumped heavily to the ground and lay still.
The visceral sight of Járnerve's death plunged the entire village into suffocating terror. Villagers scrambled to cover their children's eyes. Some Dwarves collapsed to their knees, drained of all strength, while others stood paralyzed, as if struck by a petrifying curse. Yet, through all the horror… not a single soul dared to make a sound.
Vanessa lowered her hand slowly, displaying the casual demeanor of someone who had just completed a trivial chore. Her eyes swept over the paralyzed villagers before her.
In that horrifying moment, a collective realization dawned on everyone—their lives rested entirely on the whims of this Elven woman.
Vanessa scanned the crowd of human statues before stating in a chillingly calm voice, "I shall now… remove the poison from your bodies."
Those words caused numerous heads to lift in desperate hope.
But her decree was not yet finished. "However… heed my words carefully. No one is to leave this village… for seven days."
She swept her emotionless gaze over the surrounding faces once more before delivering her final sentence with crystal clarity.
"Should anyone disobey this order, that person… shall bleed from all seven orifices." Vanessa pointed downward at the fresh corpse on the ground. "Just like this heir of Queen Yellow Bean."
The entire village remained trapped in a silence so profound that no one dared even swallow loudly.
The faint pink mist slowly transitioned into a pale blue fog, expanding outward from Vanessa's staff until it thoroughly cleansed the entire village.
Vanessa gracefully climbed back onto the silver-grey giant wolf. "Let's go, Vaness."
The giant wolf let out a low rumble from its throat before lunging forward. In a mere blink, the silhouettes of the two vanished into the distance.
Not a single person in the village dared to violate Vanessa's command.
For seven agonizing days, every villager remained strictly within the village borders; no soul dared to take even a half-step outside. But when the morning of the eighth day finally arrived, and the first rays of sunlight touched the horizon, the entire population of Elafindi abandoned the village.
From that day onward, the village of Elafindi in Greenland ceased to exist.