Two years had passed since that strange dream.
At first, the Elven Sorceress was deeply unsettled by the dream.
The relationship between Elves and humans was complex; while the human population grew day by day, the Elven population continued to dwindle.
She couldn't help but worry about how much impact a new legendary mage, or even a faction formed by mages, would have on the balance between the two races.
The moment she realized the dream was likely a prophecy, Francesca set off from Dol Blathanna for the Blue Mountains to find the only surviving Sage of the Elven race.
Ida Emean.
This Elven Sage was much older than Francesca and had lived in seclusion deep within the Blue Mountains for many years.
Not to mention humans, even her own Elven kin who shared her blood knew very little of her existence.
Francesca had heard Ida Emean's name from a deceased legendary Elven mage; the two had met once and maintained the most basic of contacts.
In a deep and secluded valley, Francesca finally met this renowned Elven Aen Saevherne once again.
It was a valley in full bloom, reminiscent of the beautiful name of the Elven ancestral land, Dol Blathanna.
Amidst the flowers, an Elven woman with curly reddish-brown hair stood quietly.
She wore a pale yellow gown, her waist cinched by an emerald green ribbon, looking slender enough to be held in one hand.
Despite being deep in the mountains, she wore ornaments from the ocean—coral, pearls, and amber. Her temperament was serene and elegant, starkly different from the dissolute Elven kin of today; Ida Emean's aura made one feel inferior at first sight.
Gwent card, Ida Emean
In this world, Ida Emean might be one of the few remaining people who maintained the dignity of the Elves.
Nowadays, the reputation of Elves among humans was hardly different from that of vagrants.
The Elven Sage walking among the flowers noticed the footsteps behind her and turned around to look at the junior who had come from afar.
"Enid an Gleanna."
She called out the other's name in the ancient language, meaning "Daisy of the Valleys."
Francesca lived up to the name. Whether it was her Elven kin, human nobles, or sorcerers from the Brotherhood of Sorcerers, all who beheld Francesca's face praised her as the most beautiful woman in the world, just as her name implied in the ancient language.
Francesca bowed low, greeting her respectfully.
At barely over a hundred years old, she did not dare to be the least bit negligent before such a Sage whose stories even legends could hardly fully recount.
After a brief greeting, the Elven Sage naturally asked the Sorceress about the purpose of her visit.
If it weren't for something urgent, Francesca wouldn't have traveled thousands of miles to this place.
Francesca recounted the images from her dream one by one.
In the dream, there was a black-haired man surrounded by several women whose faces were blurred. They were close to him—perhaps relatives, or perhaps wives. The man stood among them, and while Francesca couldn't see anyone's face clearly, she could see their eyes.
The same black color.
Ida Emean listened quietly, pondered for a long time, and then spoke her judgment.
"In this world, there is no one who possesses both black hair and black eyes; humans can only have one of those features."
"That black-haired person is very likely an otherworldly visitor who arrived during the Conjunction of the Spheres. In other words, he likely possesses the same ability as the Elder Blood—the power to travel between worlds."
After reaching this conclusion, Ida Emean's expression became even more solemn than Francesca's.
Ithlinne's Prophecy had long ago foretold everything. The White Frost would destroy the worlds, and only the Elder Blood could save them.
But the Elder Blood had long been lost due to Lara's betrayal, and no one knew where it had ended up.
The only certainty was that the descendants of this bloodline were still alive, even though it no longer belonged to the Elves.
If the person in Francesca's dream truly possessed the ability to travel between worlds, did that mean the Elder Blood flowed within him?
Such a thing could not be concluded rashly.
Ida Emean asked Francesca to wait a moment, then turned and walked deep into her tent to perform a prophecy and divination herself.
A moment later, the Elven Sage walked out with an expressionless face.
"As expected."
Her voice was calm:
"That man has a profound connection to the Elder Blood, a bond so close it is almost equivalent to the Elder Blood itself. And those women in the dream are your true rivals."
"The Elder Blood has reappeared in the world, and you are the only one who has received the prophecy."
"Gleanna, you must seize this opportunity."
"Huh?"
Francesca was dumbfounded.
Of all the possibilities she had considered, she never expected this outcome. She had originally thought he was an enemy or a potential ally to be won over, but now another path lay before her.
After a long silence,
"I understand." She closed her eyes.
The Elven Sage's hint couldn't be clearer: bring the Elder Blood back to the Elven race, just as it had once been lost to the humans.
Lara's union with a human mage had caused the Elves to lose the Elder Blood; what needed to be done now was simply the reverse.
What was a small sacrifice for the sake of the race?
For years, Francesca had labored everywhere for the survival of her kin, either delving into magical research or navigating between the human kings.
She had thought she had secured enough benefits for the Elves, allowing her kin to recuperate in the cracks between the Northern Kingdoms.
But looking back now, it was all for naught. What did those past hardships matter?
She thought of the human sorcerers she had seen on Thanedd Island—either white-haired and withered like dead wood, or sporting massive, messy beards with faces wrinkled like dried-up riverbeds.
Even the few with cleaner skin insisted on plastering themselves with powder like court jesters, and when they spoke, they had unpleasant, raspy voices.
If the black-haired man in her dream was like them, then this task wouldn't be a sacrifice—it would be a fetishistic nightmare!
Francesca thought to herself.
Asking an Elf to unite with such a human was like asking a human to intermarry with a monkey, all for the purpose of passing down the monkey's bloodline.
Looking up, the Elven Sage Ida Emean's gaze was as indifferent as it had been at the start.
Now that her goal had an answer, why stay any longer?
Francesca came quickly and left just as fast.
An Aen Saevherne's prophecy was never wrong; she had no doubt about that.
However, compared to her hurried pace when she arrived, her steps as she departed were much slower—so slow it was as if by walking slowly, the petals of the Daisy of the Valleys would not be tainted by the stench of a monkey.
Watching that flash of golden hair disappear at the end of the valley, Ida Emean returned to her tent.
When she had spoken those words to Francesca just now, the Elven Sage's expression hadn't changed, but that wasn't the whole truth.
The black-haired man's involvement with the Elder Blood was indeed profound; she hadn't lied about that.
However, the candidate shown in the water mirror was not just Francesca alone.
The Elder Blood concerned the survival of all worlds at the end of time; how could Ida Emean reach a hasty conclusion after just one divination? She had calculated it repeatedly, and every result pointed in the same direction: to ward off the coming of the White Frost, that black-haired man and the Elder Blood were the absolute key; there was no other possibility.
But besides that, some strange images had surfaced in the water mirror.
When she first saw them, even an Elven Sage like Ida Emean, who had lived for a very long time, couldn't help but feel a bit ashamed and annoyed.
An Elven Sage being spread into an M-shape by a human—what was that supposed to be?
Why was she involved too?
The Elven race could never be so pathetic!
The proud Sage thought this to herself, silently excluding those Elven kin who nowadays sold their bodies.
However, when she saw the next scene in the water mirror, her brow furrowed even tighter.
Even a beauty like Francesca would privately show an expression of being intoxicated and giggling foolishly; it was simply...
Ida Emean didn't dare to look at the subsequent images. Prophecies had their own limitations; the more one understood the future, the more the world would slide toward the predetermined direction.
The more she predicted, the closer she came to being spread into an M-shape by the human from Francesca's dream.
Since the future Francesca seemed to be enjoying it, then let her bear it alone.
This was the origin of those words just now. Let Francesca suffer a little; as for the infamy... perhaps the Daisy of the Valleys would actually thank her.
Francesca would likely never know that even though it concerned the Elven race's Elder Blood, the Elven Sage had unhesitatingly removed her own presence from the matter, leaving her to face it alone.
Let the fires of battle rage; do not disturb Ida Emean's calm and composure.
Actually, Ida Emean had no choice.
Even if the Elder Blood was lost among humans, it still belonged to the Elven nobility's bloodline; it was impossible to just find any random female Elf to take the other's essence.
As an Elven noble, Francesca had kept herself pure for centuries, and her reputation was exceptionally high among the Elves, making her the perfect candidate.
A moment later, watching Gleanna leave, Ida Emean made a decision.
She couldn't stay in this place any longer. She remembered the images in the water mirror that had made her blush—the M-shape, the standing on tiptoes, and the way her face was flushed with watery eyes.
That simply wasn't her.
These "blessings" were better left for Francesca to enjoy alone.
Farewell.
Francesca was completely unaware of everything that happened after the Sage left.
After returning to Dol Blathanna, the Elven Sorceress fell into a long period of inner conflict.
But whenever she thought about how, even in the Northern Kingdoms where the environment was relatively lenient, her Elven kin still suffered pervasive discrimination, and how Dol Blathanna, the Elven homeland, now belonged to the Kingdom of Aedirn...
Humans built city-states on Elven ancestral lands and claimed them as human masterpieces. Whenever she thought of this, she would involuntarily clench her fists.
For the future of the Elven race,
"I'll just pretend that monkey is cute."
She finally said to herself.
There are macaques, and then there are golden snub-nosed monkeys.
Next was the process of searching for that black-haired man.
Then she met Tissaia. As one of the five elders of the Brotherhood of Sorcerers, Tissaia was extremely secretive about her black-haired, black-eyed student, her attitude evasive as if she were hiding a treasure she didn't want anyone to touch.
Francesca felt that student was exactly the person she was looking for. The magical mentor's evasive attitude actually made Francesca secretly relieved; meeting him later wouldn't be so bad.
And so she delayed, until the rumors circulating among her Elven kin on Thanedd Island made Francesca even more confused.
"Twilight Star."
When she heard this title, Francesca didn't know what kind of expression to make.
In the Elven context, stars were the most beautiful things in the world.
Even someone as beautiful as Francesca only lived up to the praise of "Daisy of the Valleys"; no one had ever used a grand title like "Star" to describe her.
What exactly had that black-haired man done to make all her female kin reach such a unanimous conclusion?
Or had these increasingly immoral kin made a habit of being dissolute, casually throwing such honors at a human?
Francesca found it bizarre. Upon closer investigation, she discovered an even more confusing phenomenon.
In the evaluations of male and female kin, the reputation of this full-fledged mage named Asa was completely opposite, sitting at two extremes.
The male Elves were dismissive of him, while the female Elves flocked to him. Occasionally, one or two who were different, Francesca found their sexual orientations were not quite normal.
Did this black-haired man have succubus blood mixed in his lineage?
The feeling of disgust remained, but curiosity also uncontrollably bubbled up.
As the only person who had dreamed of him, two years of preparation had at least ensured Francesca wouldn't be too resistant during their first contact.
However, her request for a meeting was decisively rejected by Tissaia.
The renowned magical mentor said earnestly that her student possessed a strange charm, more terrifying than a succubus that lures men by the roadside at night for sex. She advised Francesca to stay away, as she didn't want to see this elegant Elf showing any "other" side.
For instance, rolling her eyes and sticking out her tongue.
At the end, Tissaia sighed softly.
The elderly mentor recalled some past events.
Even Yennefer, who was only a quarter Elf, had fallen in her youth, and during her studies, she became the best graduate of her year driven by that obsession.
As for their daily life after reuniting, best not to mention it.
So, how crazy would a pure-blooded Elven Sorceress be when facing Asa?
Tissaia felt it was better not to witness such a state of infatuation firsthand, lest it ruin the image of the elegant Elf in her mind.
Another reason was that even if Francesca hid her true intentions well, Tissaia could still faintly sense that these Elves must be hiding some secret.
Perhaps it was related to their otherworldly kin.
Those Elves from another world were not of low status or as easy to talk to as the Elven kin of this world.
Out of protection for her student and these two concerns, Tissaia naturally would not grant Francesca's request.
Where the black-haired man went after joining the Brotherhood of Sorcerers became a secret that Tissaia never spoke of again.