"Is that truly so strange?" Leylin asked calmly, as if discussing something trivial.
The priestess studied him for several seconds before nodding slowly. "Of course it is strange. Among all races, only we elves know that these creatures belong to the Burning Legion—aside from the Guardian Dragons and the Wild Gods. Even the other mortal races remain ignorant."
Her eyes sharpened beneath the veil. "Tell me, human… how could a newly emerged race such as yours possess such knowledge?"
She paused, as though recalling something distant. "…Unless," she continued slowly, "there are elves on your continent as well."
Leylin answered honestly, seeing no need for deception. "There are. On the eastern continent, an elven kingdom exists. I studied magic there."
"So Dath'Remar truly succeeded in finding a new homeland…" The priestess murmured softly.
A trace of bitterness seeped into her voice. "It seems his descendants were far luckier than we were."
The words carried a subtle resentment—directed not at Leylin, but at fate itself. Her gaze hardened suddenly.
"Then tell me this, human," she demanded sharply. "The archipelago and fortress that emerged from the shattered sea days ago—were they summoned by your people as well?"
"They were not," Leylin replied without hesitation. "Those were orcs—invaders from another world. They came seeking to plunder the powers hidden within this land."
The priestess snorted lightly. "The relationships between humans and orcs are of no concern to me. What matters is that the Burning Legion has once again cast its shadow upon Suramar."
Her voice turned cold. "And since you are a slave I captured, you will obey my orders."
Leylin's expression did not change. At that moment, he was no longer bound by any magical restraints. He stood freely before her, calm and composed. He genuinely wondered where her confidence came from.
"I refuse," Leylin said flatly. "If I choose not to comply, no one can force me."
A clear, icy laugh echoed through the library.
"Hehe... You are far too arrogant, human," the priestess said softly. "Do you truly believe that merely breaking free from my restraints gives you the right to defy me?"
She raised her hand and began chanting a series of ancient incantations. The atmosphere shifted instantly.
Leylin felt it—arcane energy surging upward from beneath the library floor, flooding the space like an unseen tide. The hollow dome of the library trembled faintly as streams of magic converged.
Moments later, pale blue light filled the entire hall. Time itself bent. A vast magical circle unfolded beneath Leylin's feet, enveloping him completely.
His movements slowed, then stopped. The flow of time was stripped from him once again, trapping him within the priestess's domain. Once more, he became prey.
"You should understand," the priestess said calmly, walking toward him, "that the reason you still live is because you possess value. That tauren you traveled with was cast into a prison. You, however, were brought into my manor."
Her voice softened, though her words carried weight. "I have no confidants in this city. Every nightborne bows to Grand Magistrix Elisande. I have ambitions of my own—ambitions that cannot be realized alone."
She stopped before him. "Now, the opportunity has arrived. I need your help."
Leylin's eyes burned coldly. He had never bowed to anyone in the Eastern Kingdoms.
He would not become a pawn here.
"You think controlling me within this magical space will make me submit?" he said evenly. "Don't delude yourself. I will never be your tool."
The priestess tilted her head. "Is that so?"
Turning away, she retrieved a beautifully carved wooden box from a high bookshelf.
Ancient runes shimmered faintly along its surface. When she opened it, a powerful arcane aura burst forth.
With a flick of her fingers, a rhomboid-shaped arcane crystal—roughly the size of a fist—floated into the air.
"I know your body cannot be bound by arcane energy alone," she said calmly. "My runes are ineffective against you. However…"
A faint smile curved her lips. "Artifacts are a different matter." Her gaze locked onto Leylin.
"You fear death as much as any living being. And I know you came to this island for a reason." Her understanding was precise—every concern Leylin held had been transformed into leverage.
Leverage he could not ignore. Her slender fingers interlocked, and a vast arcane array materialized before her. Ancient runes spiraled outward, releasing threads of power that linked to the crystal. The relic began drifting toward Leylin.
Suddenly—Heat surged.
The magical space warped violently. Fire-elemental energy erupted from Leylin's body, distorting the time domain around him. The arcane circle fractured. The priestess's eyes widened.
Again?!
Leylin shattered the restraints in an instant. Before she could react, earth-element bindings surged upward, locking her limbs in place.
Arcane chains followed, sealing her access to magic entirely. The roles reversed.
"Now," Leylin said calmly, stepping forward, "we can talk. If you have anything else hidden away, feel free to use it."
"…Hmph." The priestess exhaled slowly. "Very well. You win."
Even bound, she maintained her composure. With as much grace as the restraints allowed, she bowed slightly. "I am Eliones, half-owner of the Jeweled Estate. You may introduce yourself."
Leylin inclined his head faintly. "Leylin."
"Hehe…" Eliones smiled faintly. "That name suits you."
Leylin waved his hand, summoning a chair from the estate's magic. He sat down leisurely. "The tables have turned," he said. "Now let's negotiate."
"You're right, Mr. Leylin," Eliones replied lightly. "But perhaps you could release these restraints? Negotiations should be conducted with dignity."
Leylin smirked. "Fine. Schemes don't work on those stronger than you—though they can be annoying."
With a casual gesture, the bindings dissolved. Eliones gracefully seated herself and poured a glass of wine, acting as though she hadn't been restrained moments ago.
Thus began a forced—but rather pleasant—transaction.
Eliones lifted her wineglass, the deep violet liquid within reflecting the ambient glow of the library's arcane lights. She swirled it gently, as though savoring the moment rather than the drink itself.
For someone who had been restrained only moments ago, her composure was unnervingly perfect. Leylin leaned back in his chair, observing her in silence.
Nightborne nobles… truly born manipulators, he thought.
"You're surprisingly calm," Leylin remarked casually. "Most people would be far less composed after losing control of the situation."
Eliones smiled faintly. "Control is never absolute, Mr. Leylin. It merely shifts from one hand to another." She took a small sip of wine. "Besides, panicking accomplishes nothing."
She set the glass down and finally met his gaze directly. "Let us be clear," she said softly. "I did not bring you here to make an enemy of you. Had that been my intention, I would not have bothered with conversation."
Leylin raised an eyebrow. "Your earlier methods suggest otherwise."
"Desperation makes people inelegant," Eliones replied without shame. "Suramar stands on the edge of collapse. The Burning Legion stirs beneath our feet, the Withered roam unchecked beyond the city, and Elisande tightens her grip with every passing year."
Her fingers clenched briefly before relaxing. "I needed leverage." Leylin said nothing, allowing her to continue.
"You are an anomaly," she went on. "A human who understands demons, breaks time magic, and wields arcane power that rivals our own. You do not belong here—yet you came anyway."
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Such people always want something."
Leylin chuckled softly. "That much is true."
He leaned forward slightly. "I came to this island seeking knowledge," he said. "Ancient magic. Artifacts. Truths that no longer exist in the outside world."
His gaze sharpened. "The Burning Legion threatens all realms. If Suramar falls, the consequences won't remain contained within your barrier."
Eliones studied him carefully, as if weighing every word. "So our goals align—at least partially—with mine," she murmured.
"Temporarily," Leylin corrected. "I don't swear loyalty. I cooperate when it benefits me."
Her lips curved upward. "How refreshingly honest." She stood and walked slowly toward the tall windows overlooking Suramar City.
Outside, the arcane-lit streets shimmered beneath the artificial sky. "This city has survived ten thousand years," Eliones said quietly. "But survival does not mean freedom. We live preserved… frozen… like insects trapped in amber."
She turned back to him. "Elisande calls it protection. I call it stagnation."
Leylin's eyes flickered. So that's it…
"You wish to challenge the Grand Magistrix," he said calmly.
Eliones neither confirmed nor denied it outright. "I wish Suramar to choose its own future," she replied. "And for that, I need someone beyond her foresight. Someone not bound by prophecy or timelines."
She looked directly at him. "I need you."
Silence settled between them.
Leylin tapped his fingers against the armrest. "And what exactly are you offering in return?" he asked.
Eliones smiled—this time, genuinely.
"Access," she said. "To Suramar's archives. To forbidden research. To relics sealed even from most nobles." She paused. "And protection—so long as you remain within the city."
Leylin's heart stirred slightly. That is… tempting. Still, he remained cautious. "And if I refuse?" he asked.
"Then I will lose a valuable ally," Eliones replied smoothly. "And you will lose the safest foothold you could possibly have in this city."
She spread her hands. "A transaction. Forced, perhaps… but mutually beneficial."
Leylin exhaled slowly, then laughed.
"Hah… You really are a noble."
Eliones inclined her head proudly.
"Very well," Leylin said at last. "I'll cooperate—for now."
Her eyes gleamed. "But," he added, his tone sharpening, "make no mistake. I am not your subordinate. The moment you attempt to control me again—our arrangement ends."
Eliones met his gaze without flinching.
"Understood," she said. "In that case—" She raised her glass once more. "—welcome to Suramar, Mr. Leylin. I look forward to our… partnership."
Leylin lifted an imaginary glass in response.
"A partnership," he echoed. "How troublesome."
Yet despite his words, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Because he knew—This city was about to become far more interesting.