We descended to the ground. Riza didn’t want to just fly past—she was desperate to touch this new, vivid world. After the gray wastelands of the demon lands, an ordinary blooming field felt like a treasure vault to her. She ran from one flower to the next, her eyes feverishly scanning every petal, every blade of grass.

  “Look, Zenhald! This one smells like… like a sweet dream!” She plucked a bright red bud and, before I could say a word, popped it into her mouth. “Mm. And it tastes like the sky!”

  I only smiled at the pollen smeared across her nose. Elvindor walked beside us, and his usually arrogant face had softened.

  “That’s a tulip, Riza,” he instructed, pointing at the flowers. “And that purple one over there is lavender. It smells like peace.”

  I followed along, continuing our lessons in language and color. “That’s purple, Riza. And that bush over there is green. Remember it.”

  Suddenly she froze—her wings twitched for a second. “Oh! Look, Zenhald! Someone’s running over there!”

  She took off so fast she left nothing but a tail of dust. A moment later she was standing in the tall grass, triumphantly holding a desperately kicking creature by its long ears.

  “Zenhald, look! What is it? It’s so soft!”

  Elvindor was at her side instantly. His eyebrows shot up; he carefully but firmly took the hare from her hands and set it on the ground. The rabbit didn’t hesitate—two quick leaps and it vanished into the brush.

  “You can’t treat living creatures like that, Riza,” the elf said sternly.

  “Why?” she asked in genuine surprise, staring at her now-empty palms. “It’s so small and fluffy… and meaty. It would probably taste really good!”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Elvindor sighed and crouched in front of her, the same way I’d done before. He looked straight into her eyes—an old elf who had seen thousands of springs, and a little demon girl who had only ever known hunting.

  “Listen to me,” he began in a quiet, almost singing voice. “In this world, everything is connected by invisible threads of mana. That hare you caught… it isn’t just a piece of meat. You saw how it trembled, didn’t you?”

  Riza nodded.

  “That was fear,” Elvindor continued. “The same fear you felt in that dark room when Zenhald found you. It has thoughts in its head—simple, but important: where to find the juiciest grass, how to stay warm at night. And most of all—it has a family. Back there in its burrow, there might be little bunnies waiting for it. If you take its life for fun, or just because it seems ‘tasty,’ their world collapses.”

  Riza frowned, trying to swallow the meaning. “But the strong eat the weak… That’s how it’s always been. Dad said—”

  “Your father lived in a world that was dying,” the elf interrupted gently. “There, you had no choice. But here—look around!” He spread his hand over the field. “There are apples, berries, roots. Strength isn’t given to us to multiply fear—it’s given to protect this fragile balance. When you kill without need, you cripple nature itself. A mage who doesn’t value the life of a tiny animal will never understand the true essence of mana. Mana is life.”

  I stood off to the side, listening.

  Do you hear him, Zenhald? the voice in my head whispered. Elf tales about balance. But he’s right—if she doesn’t learn compassion, her power will become this world’s curse.

  “So… it can feel pain too?” Riza asked quietly, looking toward where the hare had disappeared.

  “Yes,” Elvindor nodded. “It hurts, it gets scared, and it wants to live just as much as you do. Respect another life, and your own magic will become purer.”

  Riza was silent for a long time, staring at her hands. Then she walked to a lavender bush, gently stroked its petals without picking it, and looked back at the elf.

  “Fine. I won’t drag them around by the ears anymore. Unless they want to play with me.”

  Elvindor chuckled softly and ruffled her hair. “Unlikely, Riza. Hares aren’t very social creatures.”

  I stepped closer, feeling the tension of the past few days finally drain away. “Let’s go. We still have a long way to reach Mira. Elvindor—thanks for the lesson. Looks like Riza has two teachers now.”