Powerless Boy is reborn as Lustful Elf
Chapter 41: The crystal

Chapter 41: The crystal

The warmth of her affection seeped into him, a bittersweet reminder of the bond they’d forged. "Hey, it’s okay," he murmured, his voice soft against her hair.

Urell glanced up from the stray crumb he had been absentmindedly picking at, his sharp gaze cutting through the quiet tension that hung in the air.

With a roll of his eyes, the movement so dramatic it almost seemed exaggerated for effect, he leaned back in his chair, slouching with the kind of nonchalance that came from years of being the more grounded, practical one.

His gaze flicked from Sylra’s tear-streaked face to Alex, standing awkwardly at the center of the room, and a sigh slipped from him, laced with a touch of exasperation.

"You’re still going to see him at school, Sylra," he said, his voice cutting through the soft tension like a blade, sharp yet not without a hint of affection.

His tone was pointed, but not unkind, more of a teasing reprimand than anything truly harsh. "Stop being such a baby."

His words cut through the moment with the blunt edge of sibling teasing, sharp and unpolished, yet somehow familiar in their rhythm.

They had the kind of bite that only years of shared history could breed, playful, yet carrying the weight of an unspoken bond that had weathered countless arguments and laughter-filled nights.

The sharpness of his voice could have seemed cold to anyone else, but to Sylra, it was nothing more than the language of family, rough around the edges but always filled with a kind of affection she knew well.

Thalorin’s deep chuckle rumbled from the doorway, low and resonant, a sound that seemed to vibrate through the very air.

It was the kind of laugh that filled the room, echoing with a richness that made the walls hum in response.

Lyriel shot him a look, her eyes narrowing in a flash of quiet reprimand.

Her lips pressed together into a tight, disapproving line, the gentle authority of a mother who had seen all of this before.

The corners of her mouth twitched, and with a soft, sharp motion, she shushed him, her voice laced with affection but firm in its command. "Thalorin, hush."

Yet, despite the brief flash of sternness, the ice of her reprimand thawed almost immediately.

Her features softened, the lines of disapproval melting into something warmer, something that only she could embody, the quiet strength and boundless love that defined her presence.

With a subtle shift of movement, her arms opened wide, and without a word, she stepped forward to Sylra and Alex.

Her arms enfolded them both, her touch steady and unwavering, a silent balm to the tension in the air. She joined the embrace, her form leaning in.

The trio stood there for a moment, a knot of tangled limbs and unspoken goodbyes, the rustle of fabric and the faint creak of the floor the only sounds.

When they finally parted, Urell unfolded from the chair with the lazy grace of someone who had all the time in the world.

With a slight grunt, he pushed himself fully upright, the chair scraping softly across the wooden floor as he planted his feet solidly on the ground.

His fingers brushed through his unkempt hair, pushing it back as though the simple act were a challenge.

He extended a hand to Alex, his grip firm as they exchanged a handshake, brief, but solid, a silent acknowledgment between them.

Thalorin straightened with a smooth, practiced motion, his broad shoulders lifting as his posture regained its full height, filling the doorway with a quiet sense of comm

With a single fluid motion, he gestured toward the door, his hand sweeping in a smooth arc that made the simple action feel deliberate, like an invitation but also a subtle order

His voice broke the stillness of the room, deep and resonant, carrying a gentle authority that seemed to embrace Alex as much as it commanded him. "Come on, Alex," he said, the words carrying a calm that settled into Alex’s chest, making the inevitable departure feel less daunting, though no less real.

Alex nodded, the weight of the moment settling deep into his bones.

He reached down, his fingers brushing the familiar straps of his pack, and with a decisive motion, he slung it over his shoulder.

Thalorin moved first, his footsteps measured and deliberate, leading the way. Alex followed in his wake, his own steps lighter

Ahead of them, the gate stood like a sentinel, tall and imposing.

Its wrought iron frame twisted in intricate patterns, curling into shapes that seemed both organic and mystical, as though the very metal had been shaped by the hands of a master craftsman.

The morning light struck it at an angle, sending a cascade of glimmering reflections dancing across the surface, making the gate seem alive, pulsing with a quiet energy.

The intricate designs shimmered in the sunlight, casting long, twisting shadows on the ground below.

Beyond the gate, the world stretched out before him, both familiar and foreign, full of roads yet untaken, challenges yet to be faced.

Thalorin came to a slow stop just outside the gate, his movements deliberate and fluid, as if each step carried a weight of meaning.

The crisp morning air swirled around them, tugging at the edges of his cloak, but he seemed to pay it no mind.

With a subtle gesture, his fingers brushed over the folds of his cloak

He paused for a moment, his hand resting lightly against the soft, material as if searching for something hidden within.

Then he brought out a crystal, a smooth, luminescent stone that pulsed faintly with an inner glow.

Thalorin held the crystal aloft, the morning sunlight catching its smooth surface, transforming it into a tiny, glowing beacon.

The stone seemed to shimmer, its facets reflecting the world around it in fractured, iridescent patterns

"Hold on to my hand," Thalorin instructed, his voice steady, carrying the same weight of authority that always seemed to follow him.