Invincible Blood Sorceror

Chapter 233: Night in the ruins

"In fact, we’re planning to move hundreds of elves here, to restore these ruins and make them home again. You could help with that. Teach us how to care for the flowers, how to keep the spirits happy, and how to make this place thrive the way it did when you were tending it alone."

Kleela’s expression brightened slightly.

"I could do that. I’m good at making things grow."

She stood up, revealing that she was maybe four feet tall, tiny even for a child, and delicate in ways that made Jorghan acutely aware of how easy it would be to accidentally harm her.

But she held his hand with surprising strength, and when she smiled, the expression transformed her face from sad and frightened to radiant.

"You won’t eat me or throw me away after taking me to your place, will you?" she asked as she suddenly remembered something.

Nami’s eyes filled with tears; she didn’t bother hiding.

Jorghan stared at her and couldn’t hide his frown, thinking about what led her to think like that. Why would they eat her? Or anyone, for that matter?

Sashru moved to Kleela’s other side, offering her hand as well.

"Come. Let’s go back to camp. You must be hungry; when’s the last time you had a proper meal rather than just plants you found?"

"I don’t remember," Kleela admitted, taking Sashru’s hand as well, now flanked by both matriarchs.

"I eat what the ruins provide. It’s enough to survive, but I don’t think I’ve had what you’d call a ’proper meal’ in a long time."

"What’s a proper meal anyway?"

They walked back toward the camp Sigora had established, Kleela between them, chattering now that fear had been replaced by cautious hope. She told them about the ruins, about the corners she’d explored, about the spirits she’d learned to communicate with, and about the gardens she’d cultivated in hidden courtyards.

Jorghan followed behind, watching this unexpected development with mixed emotions. He’d come to the Colloniel Ruins to assess rebuilding prospects and get to know his future wives.

Instead, he’d apparently just acquired a faery daughter.

A child who’d been abandoned or lost, who’d survived alone for years through sheer determination and connection to nature, who now looked at him with hope that he’d be the protector she’d lost.

The responsibilities just kept accumulating.

But watching Kleela’s drooping ears perk up slightly as Nami made her laugh with a joke, seeing her tiny hand still gripping his with trust he hadn’t earned yet, Jorghan found he didn’t resent the additional burden.

Maybe building a family wasn’t just about strategic partnerships and bloodline propagation.

Maybe it was also about finding people who needed each other and choosing to care for them despite the complications.

Kleela needed a family. Jorghan needed to learn how to build one.

Perhaps they could help each other figure it out.

The ruins of Colloniel had held more surprises than expected.

But this one, this tiny faery child who’d tended red lilies alone for years, might be the most important discovery they’d made.

Not for strategic value or political advantage.

But because she was a person who deserved care, and they had the capacity to provide it.

Sometimes, that was reason enough.

*

After Kleela had been fed and settled near the fire, wrapped in blankets, Jorghan felt the familiar prickle of instinct that suggested they weren’t entirely alone in the ruins.

He stood, stretching as if simply restless from sitting too long, and wandered away from the camp with casual purpose. His senses extended outward, using Sanguine Will to detect blood signatures in the surrounding area.

There—maybe two hundred yards distant, concealed behind a collapsed wall section.

A single presence, watching the camp with what felt like curiosity rather than hostile intent. The signature was unusual, not quite elven but not entirely foreign either.

Jorghan considered confronting the watcher directly but decided against it. If they’d wanted to attack or reveal themselves, they would have done so already.

And he felt too lazy to go there and deal with whoever it was.

He completed a circuit of the immediate area, noting defensive positions and potential vulnerabilities out of habit, then returned to camp with the same casual demeanor he’d left with.

The watcher remained in place, still observing, still making no move to engage.

Fine.

Let them watch.

The ruins held secrets beyond just architecture and history.

One more mystery could wait for proper revelation.

*

When Jorghan returned to camp, he found the scene arranged in a way that suggested careful planning. Kleela slept deeply near the fire, her tiny form curled into a ball, her drooping ears twitching occasionally with dreams.

Nami sat beside the child, her back against a stone, her eyes watchful, but her posture relaxed enough to suggest she was prepared to stay there through the night.

Sashru sat on the opposite side of the fire, a small bottle in her hand, her violet eyes catching firelight as she watched Jorghan approach.

She raised the bottle in greeting.

"Took you long enough. I was beginning to think you’d gotten lost in the ruins."

"Just checking the perimeter," Jorghan replied, moving to settle across from her.

"Force of habit."

"Mm. The perpetually vigilant warrior, always expecting threats."

Sashru’s tone was teasing but not unkind. She examined the bottle in her hand with appreciation. "I brought this from the Dhra’ckin stores. Saerl, have you had it before?"

Jorghan shook his head.

"I’ve heard of it. Supposedly one of the finest alcohols in the realm, aged for decades before it’s considered ready to drink."

"Centuries, in this bottle’s case," Sashru corrected.

She pulled the cork with practiced ease and took a small sip, her expression showing genuine pleasure.

"This vintage is from before my time as matriarch. Probably older than you are. I’ve been saving it for an appropriate occasion."

She offered the bottle to Jorghan.

"Our informal betrothal seems appropriate enough. We’re going to marry, build a life together, and create the next generation of Sol’vur heirs. That’s worth celebrating with something better than the swill you were drinking with Swana and Sik’ra."

Jorghan accepted the bottle, noting that Sashru was remarkably well-informed about his activities if she knew about that particular evening. He took a cautious sip and was immediately impressed. The alcohol was smooth and complex, with flavors that suggested fruits and spices he couldn’t quite identify. It burned going down but left a pleasant warmth rather than the harsh aftertaste of cheaper spirits.

"That’s exceptional," he admitted, handing the bottle back.

"Everything about me is exceptional," Sashru replied with mock arrogance. "You’re marrying up, Jorghan Sol’vur. I hope you appreciate that."

They passed the bottle back and forth, the alcohol slowly working its magic of lowering inhibitions and encouraging honesty. The fire crackled between them, casting dancing shadows across the ruins, creating an intimacy that the vast emptiness of the Colloniel Ruins somehow emphasized rather than diminished.

"So tell me," Sashru said after several minutes of comfortable silence, "what’s your actual assessment of this entire arrangement? Not the diplomatic answer you’d give in formal settings. The real one."

Jorghan considered how honest to be, then decided that if they were going to marry, honesty was probably more valuable than careful political positioning.

"I’m terrified I’m going to fail at it. Combat, strategy, and bloodline powers all make sense to me. But building genuine relationships while also serving clan necessities? Being a husband to multiple women and a father?

I have no framework for that."

"Good," Sashru replied, surprising him.

"If you’d claimed to be confident, I’d have known you were either lying or dangerously arrogant. The fact that you’re scared means you understand the stakes."

She took another drink, her violet eyes studying him over the bottle’s rim.

"I’m scared too, if it helps. I’ve been clan matriarch for fifty years. I’ve made life-and-death decisions, managed resources during near-starvation, and fought off raiders who wanted to exploit our weakness. But marrying someone I barely know, committing to create children with him, and trusting that he’ll treat me as a partner rather than just a womb for producing heirs? That’s more frightening than anything I’ve faced in leadership."

"Why agree to it then?" Jorghan asked.

"Because fear of failure isn’t sufficient reason to avoid attempting something worthwhile," Sashru replied.

"And because I looked at the alternatives, remaining independent and watching my clan slowly die, or accepting casual partnership arrangements with no real security, and decided that risking failure with you was better than guaranteed mediocrity elsewhere."

She leaned forward slightly, the firelight making her features more dramatic.

"Plus, I find you attractive. Not just the power or the bloodline or the political advantages. You, specifically. The way you think, the way you move, the unexpected moments of vulnerability beneath all that tactical calculation. I want to know what you’re like when the armor comes off, when you’re not performing the role of clan head."

Jorghan felt heat that had nothing to do with the fire or the alcohol.

"That’s... direct."

"I’m too old to play games," Sashru replied.