Demonic Dragon: Harem System

Strax was silent for a moment, still kneeling before the bodies of the homunculi. The glow of Tiamat's ring still pulsed faintly, like a reminder of the magnitude of that moment. But the words he wanted to hear now belonged to another matter - and Evelyn's absence did not go unnoticed by him.

Standing up with a firm movement, he wiped his hands on his pants and looked directly at Ouroboros, who was lazily stretching in the sunlight, as if that strenuous mission had only been a light stroll.

"Where's Evelyn?" He asked, after all, it was Evelyn who would unite the souls for the homunculi to emerge like Kallamus, Lithara and, of course, Nyx.

Ouroboros stretched her arms upwards, her black hair dancing around her like snakes in a gentle breeze. She let out a long sigh, like someone who didn't want to be the bearer of bad news, but also didn't care that much about the impact.

"We left her in the Elf Kingdom," she replied with a shrug. "Before we went to collect the bodies, she asked to stay. She said she needed to sort something out... with her mother."

Strax frowned. There was a certain weight to his words. The kind of tension that builds up in the spaces between sentences - in what isn't said.

"Solve what?" he insisted, crossing his arms. "What happened to the Queen?"

It was Tiamat who answered this time. Her voice was more restrained, more serious, as if she had analyzed each word before letting it slip out.

"Something... has changed. Evelyn didn't say much, but there were signs. When we left her, the palace was on alert, soldiers were moving around without clear orders. There was tension on every face. The Queen was locked in her chambers, and Evelyn seemed... different."

Ouroboros shook his head, now a little more seriously. "And to be honest, Strax... I think a civil war has already begun. The Kingdom of the Elves is collapsing. From within."

A heavy silence fell over the garden. The sounds of magic on the training field in the background seemed distant, irrelevant. Evelyn's name echoed in Strax's mind with a new weight. She was strong. Shrewd. But even the most powerful souls could lose their way when the heart was involved.

"And she stayed there alone?" he asked, his jaw tense.

"She wanted it that way," replied Tiamat. "She said she had to do it. She said that if you knew, you'd drop everything... and she didn't want to be the reason you'd wander off in your own footsteps."

Strax's heart squeezed a little. Evelyn. She was a simple elf but so determined to carry her own burdens. Even when she didn't have to.

He took a deep breath, looking once more at the newly created bodies of Nyx, Lithara and Kallamos. The mission had been accomplished. One step taken... but now, another direction loomed before him.

"If the Queen falls... or if Evelyn falls, there will be no Kingdom left... and I still haven't rebuilt the abode of the spirits," he said softly, almost to himself.

Ouroboros kicked a pebble off the ground with the tip of his bare foot and gave a lopsided smile. "You're going after her, aren't you?"

Strax didn't answer immediately. His eyes were fixed on the horizon beyond the garden, where the trees bent gently in the morning wind. Far away, perhaps, Evelyn was still struggling - alone, among shadows and truths too old to ignore.

"No," he answered at last. "We're going."

Tiamat crossed his arms and nodded with an intense gleam in his golden eyes. "Then let's go... and then, give bodies to these three."

...

The morning mist hung low over the ancient forest of Sylvandor, the once majestic Kingdom of the Elves. Organic towers made of living wood still rose between the colossal treetops, but now they were covered in thick moss and spiraling roots that seemed to suffocate the elven constructions themselves. The sunlight filtered through the leaves with difficulty, revealing a kingdom that seemed to be trapped in a constant twilight - a place in slow and painful decay.

The Palace of Gal'Shanai, the heart of Sylvandor, stood, wrapped in golden vines and pearly leaves that once resonated with the sound of spirits. Now, the silence was absolute. The wild spirits, who had once whispered among the branches and streams, had disappeared - or, worse, were silent. The Abode of the Spirits, the sacred center of elven communion with the spiritual plane, was in ruins - and along with it, the eternal pact between the Queen and the forest.

The forest, sacred and conscious, no longer recognized the sovereign as its voice. Nature itself had turned against the Queen's lineage.

Sylvandor burned inside.

In the center of Eltharia's square, one of the floating cities that orbited the capital, two groups of elves stared at each other in rigid, ceremonious lines. The leaves of the surrounding trees trembled, not with the wind, but with the growing tension in the air.

On one side, the Elders, wearing long ceremonial robes intertwined with ancient runes and silver leaves. Warriors, mages and priests faithful to the Queen. They were few, but ancient, powerful, and carried the weight of tradition.

On the other side, the Noble Dissidents, led by Lord Faeron Vel'Aeth, a young man with eyes as clear as ice and words as sharp as blades. His soldiers wore armor made from fragments of enchanted oak, and carried banners with the symbol of a tree split in half - the symbol of their revolt. They represented the new - the elven youth who didn't understand why their Queen allowed Sylvandor to die day after day.

"She no longer listens to the forest! The very root of life denies us!" Faeron shouted, his voice echoing among the mute trees. "If the Queen cannot lead, then she cannot rule!"

The elders remained calm, but inside, they knew the truth. The Queen was alive... yes. But not much longer.

In the silent halls of Gal'Shanai Palace, behind translucent silk curtains and intertwined roots, Queen Frieren rested on a throne made of crystal and living wood. Her eyes remained closed. Her silver hair fell like dry waterfalls around her body, and her skin, once as golden as dawn light, was now pale, almost translucent.

She was connected to the ground itself.

Living runes were engraved on her arms, pulsing slowly - beats that marked the vital energy being sucked out of her body, drop by drop, to keep the rejecting earth alive. The air around her was thin, and the palace itself bowed in respect for her silent pain.

Frieren had been dying... for years.

Since the fall of the Abode of Spirits, she had used her essence as an anchor between the spiritual and physical planes. She was, at that moment, the only bridge between the two worlds - sustaining the life not only of Eltharia, but of the entire continent of Sylvandor.

But no one knew that. Not even the elders knew how much of the forest still existed only because of her.

In one of the long, curving corridors of the palace, Evelyn walked in silence. Her traveler's clothes were now soiled with dust and dried blood, and her gaze, though firm, was deeply saddened.

She approached the Queen's chamber. Elven guards made way without question.

"Mother..." she murmured as she entered.

Frieren didn't answer, but her fingers moved slightly. Evelyn knelt beside her, touching one of the roots that came out of her shoulders and plunged to the ground. She felt an ache go through her chest. It was as if she could hear the heart of the forest... crying.

"They don't understand you. But I... I understand." Outside, more war cries. The city of Eltharia had already been partially taken by the rebels. The factions were spreading. The chaos was increasing.

Evelyn squeezed her eyes shut, letting a tear escape.

"But if you go on... you'll die, mother." And for the first time in years, the Queen spoke. Her voice was weak, hoarse, like the wind rustling through dry leaves.

"Then so be it... If Sylvandor is to live... my life is a small price, my beautiful daughter."

Evelyn heard her mother's voice...

"Princess." Lyana said, entering and kneeling down. After all, now she wasn't Evelyn's friend... but the leader of the Royal Cavalry. "We have the support of the entire military might of the Kingdom."

"I see..." Evelyn's voice cut through the silence of the chamber like a thin blade.

She turned slowly to the sentry beside her. The weight of the decision was already in her eyes.

"Place a war vanguard around Gal'Shanai. No nobleman is allowed to set foot on this soil. If they do..." his voice lowered, but the firmness in it was unbreakable "... immediate execution. Without trial. Without hesitation."

She turned to her mother, lying on the sacred throne. Her eyes watered for a moment, but the steel behind her words did not give way.

"Our forest is not worth more than your life, foolish mother."

She took a step forward - and the world seemed to stop for an instant.

Evelyn's clothes began to change. The worn leather and rough fabric of her travels were dissolved by the light. In their place, a translucent dress made of living mist and enchanted leaves materialized. The old scars on her ears - a symbol of her rejection of the royal lineage - disappeared. They regenerated completely, as if the royal blood had finally reclaimed what was theirs.

An organic crown, made of golden branches intertwined with moonstones, appeared on his head. Not forged. Summoned. Recognized by the forest itself, which had been watching her in silence for some time.

She raised her head proudly.

"In the absence of the Queen, the next heiress can assume the throne, if it is to protect the Kingdom."

An ancient, heavenly aura began to radiate from Evelyn - not violent, but majestic, unavoidable. It was the supreme domain of the elves. The domain she had avoided for years. The domain she now accepted in its entirety.

Behind her, Lyana, her most loyal advisor, fell to her knees. A fleeting thought crossed her mind like an ancient whisper:

"She had avoided her heritage for so long... But now that you've embraced her, she's become something beyond. If Strax saw her like this... would he finally see her?"

"Lyana." called Evelyn, without turning around.

"Yes, My Queen," she answered promptly, her voice breaking.

"Open the Sylvandor barriers." she ordered.

Lyana hesitated. "My Queen... that will leave us exposed..."

Evelyn finally turned, walking to the highest balcony of the tower, where the winds of the kingdom whispered ancient promises.

"When I warned Ouroboros about our coming, I told him why. And knowing that man..." her eyes stared at the horizon "... he's already coming."

She stood there, the wind wrapping around her ethereal dress, the crown shining in the opaque light of the elven sky.

"It may be selfish... but I will use Strax's presence to consolidate my position. Let the world know that the new Queen of Sylvandor has walked alongside true dragons. That she brought them into the heart of the forest."

Her smile grew, crooked, shrewd. Like someone who knew well the weight of the pieces on a board.

"I just hope he doesn't get... too angry that I use him like that."