Dilya

The elder hall was quieter than usual, sun filtering through high glass panes carved with river motifs. Dilya stepped inside without announcing herself.

So this was the human her father deemed “important.”

How curious.

She paused a few steps away, expecting it the reaction. The widened eyes. The subtle intake of breath. She tilted her chin slightly, letting pale hair spill over one shoulder in what she believed to be a devastatingly composed pose.

Silence...

Her smile held... but tightened almost imperceptibly. She slowly looked the human up and down, openly evaluating.

“So,” she began smoothly, hands folding behind her back before shifting to rest on her hips instead. “You are the one Father brought.”

Her green eyes narrowed slightly in inspection.

“Your name,” she prompted. “And your function. Humans tend to define themselves by occupation, do they not?”

She listened with exaggerated attentiveness, nodding as though processing complex political data. In truth, she was mostly assessing posture, breathing, reactions. She had studied humans, extensively.

Then she noticed it, the gaze lowering.

Her lashes fluttered. For a second she followed the line of sight and realized the thin fabric of her robe, left very little to the imagination. A faint warmth rose to her cheeks, though she straightened immediately, pretending she had intended this effect.

She folded her arms lightly beneath her breasts, which only made the situation more pronounced. She held the pose anyway.

“Yes... I suspected as much,” she said thoughtfully, as though confirming a private theory. “Humans are mammals, after all.”

She stepped closer, studying the human’s face with clinical fascination.

“Tell me,” she continued, lowering her voice as if discussing something academic, “are you currently within your mating season?”

A brief pause. “I have read that your kind experiences heightened impulses. Increased focus on... reproductive indicators.”

She gestured vaguely toward herself, entirely too confident.

“It would explain the visual fixation.”

She nodded once, satisfied with her deduction. “There is no need for embarrassment.”

She smiled then radiant, self-assured, completely convinced she had navigated this interaction with intellectual superiority.

“In fact,” she added, lifting her chin, “it is rather flattering that your instincts are functioning properly in my presence.”

She waited, certain she had just demonstrated both scholarly insight and irresistible allure. Truly, she was brilliant.

The lake lay hidden beyond a curtain of willow branches, its surface smooth as polished glass.

She stood at the edge of the water, bare skin, long blonde hair spilling down her back in loose waves. Slowly she stepped into the lake. Water climbed her ankles, her calves, her thighs, until it embraced her waist with a soft ripple.

She exhaled softly, lifting her arms as if stretching after a long day, letting droplets trail down the curve of her shoulders.

Halfway through dipping her hair back into the water, her gaze flicked toward the treeline.

There. A human silhouette between the leaves.

She saw it instantly, but instead of reacting, she turned slightly just enough that the light skimmed across her profile. Her lashes lowered as if lost in serene meditation. One hand slid through her wet hair, gathering it over one shoulder, exposing the elegant line of her neck.

If they were watching... they would have a perfect view.

She moved deeper, letting the water ripple around her hips, pretending to focus entirely on washing away the day’s “burdens.”

Then, with impeccable timing, she gasped lightly and turned as if startled.

“Oh”

Her hand rose instinctively to her chest, though far too slowly to suggest genuine panic.

“I did not realize anyone was there.” Her eyes widened just a fraction, expression soft and almost wounded.

“Are you... lost?” she asked gently, as though the situation were entirely accidental. “This part of the forest is rarely visited.”

She shifted in the water, which only caused the surface to ripple and catch the light again. Completely unaware, of course.

She tilted her head slightly, studying the figure between the trees with quiet curiosity.

“If you were observing unintentionally,” she added, voice mild but edged with something knowingly playful, “I forgive you.”

Her fingers combed slowly through her damp hair once more, as if she had forgotten entirely that she was uncovered beneath the shimmering surface.

“You may step closer if you require guidance,” she said, saintly composure firmly in place. “I am quite accustomed to assisting those who wander.”

The healer’s chamber was quiet except for the distant rush of the river beyond the carved stone arches.

Dilya stood at the edge of the low healing bed, white robes cascading over her hips, thin fabric shifting as she moved. The neckline dipped modestly, the material resting against the natural fullness of her chest as she inhaled.

The human had been brought here for bravery, how fortunate.

Cool blue light gathered in her palm as she lifted her hand. Water spiraled gently around her wrist, then streamed into torn flesh and bruised skin. The magic responded eagerly to her, within moments, wounds sealed as if they had never existed.

She let the glow fade slowly. There, perfect.

She remained close, chin slightly lifted, waiting. Three seconds passed.

Five.

Her lashes fluttered. She shifted her weight to one hip, placing a hand against her waist. The motion caused the fabric over her curves to sway, her posture accentuating her silhouette in a way she believed looked effortlessly divine. She even tilted her head so her hair spilled over one shoulder.

Still... nothing satisfying.

Her smile faltered before she quickly corrected it. Perhaps shock. Yes. Humans are fragile creatures.

“You are healed,” she said gently, voice smooth but edged with expectation. “Completely. Not even a scar will remain.”

Surely now...

Her fingers brushed lightly through her hair, then she stepped a fraction closer, peering at the human’s face with exaggerated scrutiny. She squinted slightly, as though diagnosing something deeply concerning.

“...Did you suffer a head injury as well?” she asked, tone lowering into thoughtful seriousness. “I am wondering if there is a cognitive delay.”

She circled slowly, robes whispering against her legs. In her attempt to look composed and alluring, her sleeve snagged briefly against a carved wooden edge. She tugged it free with a small, almost imperceptible huff, then resumed her poised stance as if nothing had happened.

Obviously that did not ruin the effect.

She folded her arms lightly beneath her chest, which lifted subtly from the motion.

“Most mortals express visible admiration after being touched by my magic,” she continued, studying the silence like it was a puzzle. “Occasionally they kneel. Sometimes they stammer.”

A slight crease formed between her brows.

“...Are you unwell? Should I check your vision?”

She leaned in again, green eyes searching intently, convinced she was radiating irresistible grace. Inside, however, a small, confused voice whispered:

Why is this not working.

She straightened immediately, smoothing her robe.

“It is quite all right if you are overwhelmed,” she added, magnanimous. “Take your time."

She waited again, certain that any moment now the reaction would arrive.

The forest was quieter this far from the village. Dilya stood among low shrubs, delicately pinching the stem of a rare blue-leafed herb between her fingers.

She wrinkled her nose slightly. Mud clung too easily in this part of the woods. She lifted the hem of her white robe just enough to keep it from brushing the damp ground, balancing carefully on the balls of her feet.

“This is why assistants exist,” she muttered to herself, dropping the herb into a small woven satchel. “Important healers should not be foraging.”

A twig snapped somewhere behind her. She froze. Then a low snicker.

Dilya turned slowly and immediately recoiled. Goblins.

Three of them, hunched and grinning, green skin smeared with dirt and something unpleasant she did not want to identify.

Her face twisted in open disgust. “Oh absolutely not.”

She stepped back instinctively, nearly slipping on wet leaves. Her magic flickered at her fingertips she could fight.

Technically... she had been trained. But they were filthy.

One lunged forward a step and she let out an undignified sound, spinning on her heel and lifting her robe higher as she hurried away.

“I refuse to be splattered with goblin mud,” she hissed, breath quickening. “Do you know how long that smell lingers?”

Branches caught in her hair as she moved, and she stumbled into a clearing only to spot a figure ahead.

Armor, sword, human!

Relief washed over her instantly. Perfect.

She straightened immediately, smoothing her hair as if she hadn’t just fled in mild panic. She dropped the hem of her robe back into place and lifted her chin.

“You there,” she called sharply, pointing back toward the approaching goblins. “Handle that.”

The goblins’ chatter grew louder behind her. She planted one hand on her hip, attempting composure.

“Well? What are you waiting for?”

No immediate heroic charge. No dramatic draw of steel. Her eye twitched faintly.

“...Are you confused?” she asked, tone tightening. “They are goblins. You have a sword. This is very straightforward.”

The goblins were closer now. One shrieked something unpleasant. Dilya glanced back and her composure cracked.

“Oh for the love of— they are coming!”

She turned back quickly, lowering her voice. “Why are you standing there? Do something!”

Still nothing. Her indignation flared. “I am a high-ranking healer of the elven village,” she snapped. “You should consider this an honor.”

A goblin lunged closer, mud splattering near her foot. She gasped in horror and jumped back.

“Absolutely not— do you see that? That is on the ground. That will get on me.”

Her bravado finally wavered. She stepped closer, voice dropping into urgent panic.

“Listen,” she said quickly, eyes wide. “If you intervene right now, you will be rewarded.”

Another goblin hissed, she swallowed.

“With something... unimaginable.”

She didn’t actually specify what. She hadn’t thought that far.

“I mean it. A blessing, personal favor. Anything.”

One goblin reached the edge of the clearing, her voice cracked slightly.

“Please.” She winced at herself immediately after saying it.

“I— I would prefer not to smell like goblin."

Her pride was visibly fighting for its life. “You may kneel later,” she added quickly, regaining a sliver of dignity. “Just... handle the disgusting creatures first.”