Elysia
Chapter 6: Echoes in the Orphanage

The decision made in the command tent spread not like wildfire, but like frost on a cold morning—silently, creeping, and chilling the hearts of all it touched. Secret orders were dispatched via the fastest royal couriers to every corner of the alliance. In the capital of the Elven Kingdom, an old scribe sealed a parchment scroll with silver wax, his hand trembling slightly as he thought of the strange command within. In a fortress of the Human Empire, a knight captain read the decree in his dimly lit chambers, his hard face creasing in confusion and reluctance. In the holy temples, priestesses received a message from Saintess Annelise, instructing them to pray for "a child who will bear the world's destiny," a euphemism that hid a terrible truth.

The order itself was a bewildering contradiction. "Find a female orphan," it read. "Healthy in body and spirit. Of the Elf, Human, or fox-kin race. Do not frighten her. Treat her with the utmost respect. She is the key to our salvation." How could a helpless orphan be the key to salvation? And why must they treat her with respect if she was ultimately to be handed over as a 'price'? The soldiers and officials carrying out the order could only swallow their questions and perform their duty with a heavy heart.

Hundreds of kilometers from the World Tree, in the heart of a dense and noisy human city, the ripples of that decision had not yet been felt. Here, at the Greyhaven Orphanage, with its drab walls and air that smelled of thin soup, life went on as usual—harsh, monotonous, and without hope.

And in the middle of it all, there was Elina.

For Elina, an eight-year-old fox-kin girl, every day was a repetition of the last. She woke before dawn to the clang of an iron bell, put on her coarse and threadbare brown dress, and then queued for a bowl of nearly tasteless oat porridge. She usually kept her brown fox ears, tipped with white, folded back, trying not to draw too much attention. She tucked her fluffy tail awkwardly beneath her dress. Being the only demi-human among dozens of human children made her an easy target.

"Look at the weird ears," a larger boy sneered as Elina was sweeping the courtyard. "Why don't you just go back to the forest?"

Elina didn't answer. She had learned long ago that answering only invited more taunts. Silence was her best shield. She just lowered her head a little further and continued sweeping, her small fingers gripping the rough broom handle. She held it all inside, building a high wall of indifference around her small heart.

Her only escape was the roof. In the afternoons, if the matron wasn't looking, she would climb through a rickety attic window and sit on the slanted tiles. From there, she could see the entire sprawling city below. But she didn't care for the city's hustle and bustle. She would gaze into the distance, to the west, where the faint silhouette of an impossible, giant tree could be seen on a clear day. The World Tree. She didn't know what it was, but looking at it gave her a strange sense of peace.

Up on the roof, she would take out her only treasure: a smooth, flat, grey pebble she had found in the yard years ago. She would hold it in her palm, feel its coolness, and whisper to it. She told it about the boy who bullied her, about the bland porridge, and about her dreams of being able to fly like the birds she watched. The stone was a patient listener.

That night, when all the other children were asleep, Elina returned to the roof. A full moon hung in the sky like a silver lantern. "What do you think is up there, Stone?" she whispered to the pebble in her hand. "Are there orphanages on the moon, too?"

A thin, tabby cat leaped onto the tiles beside her, meowing softly. Elina smiled a little and reached out to stroke it. The cat was her other friend. "You're hungry, aren't you?" She took out a small piece of hard bread she had saved from her dinner ration and gave it to the cat.

As she sat there, sharing her solitude with a stone and a cat under the moonlight, Elina had no idea that across the land, dozens of knights and officials were searching for someone exactly like her. A child with no one, whose absence would not leave a hole in the world.

The next day, that destiny arrived in the form of a magnificent carriage.

The carriage was ivory white with gold trim, pulled by four proud white horses. The sigil of the royal alliance was emblazoned on its door. When it stopped before the rickety gates of the Greyhaven Orphanage, the entire neighborhood was thrown into a commotion. Children pressed their faces to the windows, and Mrs. Merta, the stern headmistress, scurried out in her best dress, her face a mixture of nervousness and greed.

The carriage door opened, and the one who stepped out was not a prince or a nobleman, but Saintess Annelise herself, accompanied by a stoic-faced elven knight. The Saintess's presence nearly made Mrs. Merta faint.

"Greetings, Holy Light," Mrs. Merta said, bowing so low she almost toppled over. "This is an immeasurable honor! What brings you to our humble establishment?"

"I am here on a sacred mission from the alliance, Mrs. Merta," Saintess Annelise replied, her voice soft but carrying an unseen weight of sorrow. "Please gather all of your female orphans. We need to meet them."

A few minutes later, all the girls in the orphanage were lined up in the main hall. They wore their best clothes, their faces scrubbed clean, their hair neatly combed. They all tried to smile sweetly, hoping to catch the Saintess's eye, perhaps for adoption by a wealthy family.

All of them, except Elina.

She stood in the back row, as usual. She just stared at the cracked wooden floor, her fox ears drooping slightly. She knew it was useless to hope. No one ever chose a fox-kin.

Saintess Annelise walked slowly along the line. Her heart ached every time she looked at those hopeful faces. She knew she was not here to give hope, but to take it from one of them. She used a bit of her holy magic to sense each child's soul—searching for purity, resilience, and most importantly, the absence of any strong bonds.

Her gaze finally rested on the quiet little girl at the end of the line. She sensed Elina's soul—not an empty soul, but a quiet one. Like a deep lake in a silent forest. There was sadness there, but there was also an incredible strength, an ability to endure without breaking. There was no hatred, no overflowing despair. Just a calm acceptance.

And most importantly, she sensed this child's profound solitude.

With a heavy heart, Saintess Annelise knew she had found the 'perfect' candidate. This choice felt like the sweetest, most bitter sin she had ever committed.

She knelt before Elina, causing the little girl to startle and lift her head. The Saintess's blue eyes met Elina's large, questioning, golden-brown ones.

"What is your name, my child?" the Saintess asked, her voice as gentle as she could make it.

"E-Elina, Holy One," Elina whispered, her voice barely audible.

Saintess Annelise smiled, though the smile didn't reach her eyes. "Elina," she said, holding out her warm hand. "You have been chosen for a great honor. You will help save the world."

Elina could only stare at the outstretched hand, then back at the Saintess's face. Her whole life, she had never been chosen for anything. She was always the last, the forgotten, the unwanted. To hear the word 'chosen' felt so foreign, so unreal.

"Me?" was all she could say.

A few hours later, Elina was inside the magnificent carriage. Her rough clothes had been replaced with a soft cotton dress and well-fitting leather shoes. In her lap, she clutched her grey stone tightly. She had been allowed to keep it.

As the carriage began to move, she looked out the window. She saw the faces of her fellow orphans pressed against the glass, their expressions a mixture of envy and confusion. She saw Mrs. Merta standing at the door, waving with a relieved smile.

Elina turned her face away from the only place she had ever called home. She didn't know where she was going, or what 'saving the world' meant. All she knew was that for the first time in her life, she was moving forward, toward the horizon where a giant tree stood like a silent promise. The journey towards a destiny dictated by powers she could not comprehend had just begun.