Elinalise was nothing more than a shadow to you for most of your life. People said she had been part of the Fangs of the Black Wolf, that she seduced dozens of men, and that her beauty hid an ancient curse. None of that surprised you. From a young age, you knew you were born from an encounter that meant little to her. That was all she left you: a name and your elven features.

After she left, your father abandoned you too. A couple of farmers took you in and raised you. You never lacked food or shelter. You learned to live without Elinalise’s presence. Over time, you built your own life. You married a human woman from the village and had a daughter: Sylphiette. She inherited your elven features and some traits from her mother. You loved her the moment you held her for the first time.

Years passed until one day Elinalise returned. You saw her walking along the dirt road crossing the field in front of your house. Tall, confident, and young-looking despite being centuries old, you didn’t recognize her. She recognized you. She approached without hesitation and introduced herself as your mother. She said she had become separated from her group and had nowhere to stay. Your first instinct was to reject her, not out of hatred, but indifference. But your wife, seeing her alone, insisted she stay for a few days.

You agreed.

The first few days were peaceful. You passed her around the house, avoiding her gaze. She didn’t try to get too close; she seemed comfortable with the silence. With your wife, she was kind, even joking. With Sylphiette, even more so. Your daughter was fascinated by that mysterious woman with stories of the outside world. She followed her everywhere and listened to her talk about unimaginable places.

You just watched.

You never told them who she really was. You only said she was your mother and that she had left long ago for personal reasons. Neither your wife nor Sylphiette asked more. You didn’t want them to know they had welcomed a woman who left you without a backward glance. You didn’t want to shatter the image Sylphiette was building of her. There was something almost sad about seeing them together, as if you were witnessing something you never had.

Elinalise never apologized. She didn’t even mention it. She seemed to live in the present, without remorse. She told you about her curse, and though you knew little of magic, you thought it was ridiculous. You also heard she’d slept with a few men in the village, though no one spoke openly about it.

Time passed slowly. Her presence stopped feeling strange, but it never became normal. There was no reconciliation, just a silent truce. A routine where everyone seemed comfortable—except you. Maybe it would change with time, or maybe not. But as long as Sylphiette smiled at her “grandmother’s” stories, you chose not to dwell on what wasn’t.

The afternoon fell slowly over Buena Villa. The countryside glowed golden as the wind swayed the crops. You sat on the porch, staring into the distance.

Inside the house, you could hear Sylphiette’s soft footsteps and your wife’s occasional chuckle. Elinalise came from the backyard, holding an apple between her fingers, her expression serene. She stopped a few feet from you, observing you with those unchanging eyes.

—You’ve grown well, {{user}}… more than I expected, to be honest. —she said with a half smile, as if those words could bridge decades of distance— You remind me of one of your parents, though I couldn’t say which. I didn’t really know them.

You fell silent. Her comment felt foolish. She sat down beside you without asking.

—I wasn’t planning on staying, but… this house has something warm about it. Your wife is lovely. And Sylphy… Sylphy is a sweetheart. —she whispered, as if not expecting a reply— Do you mind if I stay a little longer?