Her master was gone.

Elena sank to the ground.  
There wasn’t a single trace left of him.  
He had disappeared.  
Was it because she had dared to wish for something too extravagant, a desire beyond her place? Or maybe…  
Was it because she had made an impossible plea to the heavens, to her god?  
The reason didn’t matter much.  
The cause wasn’t important.  
What mattered was the heartbreaking reality before her eyes.  

---

The guild hall was left in cold darkness without its master’s presence.  
In the place where he had once sat, where she had sat for one year, then two, clinging to the hope that maybe, just maybe, a fragment of his warmth would still be there,  
Her eyes had become sunken and lifeless, resembling those of a patient worn down by illness.  

The pale hue of her skin had lost its natural mint glow, with deep hollows under her eyes, as if she hadn’t slept in months.  
If it weren’t for the striking, otherworldly beauty inherent to elves,  
She would have looked almost monstrous in her ruined, deteriorated state.  

She slumped forward,  
Just as she had back then,  
Burying her face in her knees, sobbing in silence, her cries nearing the intensity of wails.  
But no sound came out.  

It wasn’t that she feared the monstrous elven chief, feared being trampled by him again.  
It wasn’t the gaze of her kind she feared either. She had grown strong, stronger than she’d ever been.  
It was only that, in the past, she hadn’t known who to use that strength for.  
She was terrified—terrified that her master had left her.  

The fact that he had disappeared, that he had abandoned her, was what filled her with dread.  
Once, she had tried to deny it with all her might. Shaking her head, she’d thought that if she just fulfilled her duties, if she showed herself as his obedient slave, then surely he would return.  
He would return, wipe away her tear-streaked cheeks, smile brightly, and embrace her cold, empty self.  
She believed it without a hint of doubt.  

But after a month, then two, then half a year, and a year, and then two years had passed, the hope she had clung to so desperately shattered within her.  
The last shred of hope she had held onto was destroyed.  

She had been abandoned again.  
She was alone once more.  
Unlike the father who had cruelly cast her aside, this master had been kind,  
The one who had saved her, the first to show her love…  

“Why… Why did you leave me?”  

Why had he released that gentle hand that had once pulled her from the darkness, leaving her alone in a gloom darker than hell itself?  
She asked this question in the empty guildmaster’s room,  
But no answer came.  

If she had known it would bring such grief, she would never have made a wish to the heavens.  

---

The animals and plants, once huddling against the cold, began to stir, curious about the outside world again. A season of fresh breezes had arrived.  
A full year had come to a peaceful close.  
For the elf, it had been three years.  

The elf, who had spent the previous year wasting away, sobbing in the guildmaster’s room, was now even more broken.  
Her body was covered in wounds, and her heart had long since collapsed.  
As she walked through a forest, stumbling with shaky steps, she paused for a moment.  

Her fingers brushed over her scars. She saw nothing in her gaze,  
As if she would allow nothing into her eyes except her master.  
Barely holding onto consciousness, her gait was unsteady, and she looked as though she might collapse at any moment.  
But even so, she didn’t stop her slow, dragging steps.  

Every movement was driven by a fierce determination.  
She was heading back to her homeland—or rather, what was once her homeland,  
To the shameful place that had abandoned her.  

---

Rohan, the elf chief and Elena’s father, was grinning with satisfaction.  
Though known as a wretched father who had discarded his daughter,  
Since he sold Elena into slavery, his power and influence had only grown, rising high and mighty.  
The village had flourished, forming a bustling city, so grand that “King of the Elves” would have suited him more than “Chief.” It was becoming the kingdom he had always dreamed of.  

Rohan, grinning with pride as he looked down at the elven masses worshiping him, had been smiling until…  

“...Huh?”  

His smile shattered.  
The reason was simple.  
An elf—an elf woman, no less—was approaching with her hair flowing like waves of jade. She carried elves by the neck, men and women alike, dangling from her hands as she approached the palace.  
The elf he had cast out had returned to wreak havoc upon their world.  

The city’s elves began to tremble.  
Why was Elena here? And why weren’t the soldiers stopping her from invading the palace?  

Rohan rushed down in a panic.  
In his hurry, he tumbled down the stairs, tearing his fine clothing on door handles as he stumbled, but none of that mattered.  

---

What he saw before him was Elena, gasping for breath,  
Surrounded by the spirits who mocked him.  
The forest, the animals and plants, the wind, the rain, the sun, the clouds—all were on her side, circling around her, comforting her and scowling at him and those who had rejected her.  

Rohan quickly realized why the elven soldiers hadn’t been able to stop her.  
The sheer pressure of the spirits around her was overwhelming.  
An elf who sided with the forest, cast out by nature itself—she was unbeatable.  

“Did you… make all this?”  

Elena’s voice was ice-cold as she spoke to Rohan.  

You… addressing her father as “you”… Rohan nearly exploded with rage, but he swallowed his anger and forced an awkward laugh.  

“H-Haha… O-Of course… I made it… F-For you, my dear daughter… for when you’d grow to become a fine elf…”  

He tried to speak with a warm tone, as if saying, *I don’t want to fight.*  

Elena smiled.  

For a moment, Rohan thought she might spare him, that perhaps she, as his daughter, would grant him mercy.  
He smiled and reached out to her, thinking she might forgive him.  
But then he realized he couldn’t move his body.  

His head hit the floor, his body tumbling onto the ground.  
With wide, disbelieving eyes, he tried to process the situation, but it was already too late—his head was crushed underfoot.  

As if repaying the father who once tried to trample her to death, Elena smiled brightly.  
It was a smile of gratitude, not for him, but for the power he had amassed through his filth.  

---

Elena killed her father and took his throne.  
She killed the queen and slaughtered those who had rejected her.  
Their blood stained the floor of the throne room as she sat upon the blood-soaked throne,  
Looking at the illusion of her master smiling down at her,  

She rushed forward to embrace him.  

…But there was nothing to feel.  
Of course, it was just an illusion.  
It wasn’t real.  

This was a hallucination her own mind had created to protect herself from going mad.  
Turning to nature for solace, looking to the night sky for comfort, she had crafted an illusion of her master.  
Using the power of nature, drawing strength from the distant crescent moon, she had formed an image of him, filled with all the qualities she remembered.  

But it wasn’t enough.  
This shadow couldn’t be her pillar; it wasn’t strong enough to keep her from falling into madness.  
Because it was a fake.  

It wasn’t the real him. It wasn’t her master.  

“…..”  

She dismissed the illusion.  

This wasn’t her master.  
She didn’t need the sounds of nature or the comfort of the sky.  
All she needed was her master.  
If she could have him by her side, she could do anything.  

So why wouldn’t the world let her be happy?  
Why did it take her beloved master away from her?  
Why did it separate her from him?  

“Why… why… why… why… why… why… why… why… why… why… why… why… why… why… why… why… why… why… why… why… why… why…”  

She repeated the question, but only silence greeted her.  
As if too afraid to answer, the heavens remained closed.  
The forest offered her no truths—because they didn’t know her master, didn’t know where he had gone.  

She sat upon the throne.  
Imagining her absent master beside her, she erased the illusion she no longer wished to see,  
Pushing away the creation she herself had made.  

In that moment, her heart truly died, right there on the throne.  
And it would never come back.  

They say that only a sorrowful queen remains there now,  
An elf who lost the one person she had loved, weeping with nature as her only companion and the night sky her only solace,  
Singing songs of her master’s name,  

“Master… My Master…”  

“Keyal Klein… my Master…”  

Her once-radiant mint-colored hair had lost its luster.  
The beauty she had once kept for him faded with each passing day.  
The nights filled with tears only pushed the elf further down.  
She was truly left with nothing.  

---

Until half a year later, when a wind spirit suddenly swept into the palace and whispered softly in her ear.  

“Look, Elena! It’s him! The one you called Master… he’s returned!”  

Only then did her hope stir from death.