As they stepped into the mission hall, the familiar comforting scent of aged parchment, ink, and faintly burnt coffee beans enveloped them, a welcome change from the metallic tang of blood and goblin ichor that still clung to their clothes. A relative quiet reigned – too quiet, perhaps – punctuated only by the occasional scratch of a quill pen against parchment, the rustle of turning pages, and the low murmur of conversation between the hall's occupants. Lanterns cast a warm, golden glow across the polished wooden surfaces, their light dancing with dust motes suspended in the beams slicing through the tall, arched windows. Despite the late hour, a handful of clerks diligently worked at their desks, meticulously filing scrolls into the towering cabinets that lined the back wall, their movements precise and efficient.
At the heart of this organized chaos, behind a wide oak counter cluttered with a haphazard collection of papers, quill pens, half-empty mugs, and assorted bureaucratic detritus, sat Elina. Her legs were propped casually atop the desk, a thick, leather-bound book resting against her knees, her glasses perched low on her nose, allowing her to look over them with an air of practiced disinterest.
When she finally glanced up, her gaze landed on the trio, and her expression shifted subtly – from mild amusement to something akin to stunned disbelief.
"You're alive?" she stated flatly, the words devoid of any real surprise.
Ethan blinked, his eyelids heavy with exhaustion. "We just saw you an hour ago."
Elina snorted, a sound like dry leaves skittering across pavement. "Yeah, but you didn't look like a herd of horses had dragged you across a smoldering volcano and then back again."
The three boys were indeed a sorry sight. Asher's vibrant blue hair was singed at the tips, his once pristine shirt reduced to a ragged, soot-covered vest that clung precariously to his torso, stained with what appeared to be dried blood – or possibly barbecue sauce; no one dared to ask. Nick's cloak had suffered significant damage, torn diagonally across the back with one sleeve completely missing, his cheek bearing a jagged scratch that still pulsed faintly with residual wind magic. Ethan's arm sported a nasty gash, his intricate lightning tattoos flickering weakly, like dying embers struggling to maintain their luminescence. All three were liberally adorned with bruises, dirt smudges, and the unmistakable pallor of profound exhaustion, their eyes dulled and shadowed by the ordeal they'd endured.
Elina's gaze sharpened, her assessment swift and thorough. She scanned their forms, noting every detail, before finally settling on their empty hands.
"No weapons?" she said, her voice suddenly calm, almost unnervingly so. "Let me guess. Kael confiscated your shiny toys?"
Nick nodded, a grimace twisting his features. "Claimed they were traumatized. Like us."
"They were cracking under the strain," Ethan muttered, his voice laced with exasperation. "He said they'd snap if we swung them again."
"I liked Emberfang's cracking," Asher added mournfully, a hint of genuine sadness in his tone. "Gave it character. Like a dragon snoring."
Elina smirked, rolling her eyes as she effortlessly plucked the mission scroll from Ethan's hand. "Kael's probably fixing them while simultaneously yelling at some poor, innocent piece of metal for the sheer audacity of its existence."
She unrolled the scroll with practiced precision, her eyes scanning the report with a practiced speed. Her expression, however, shifted subtly as she read – from amused indifference to intrigued curiosity, and finally to something hard and intensely focused. Her fingers stilled halfway down the page.
She looked up slowly, her eyes now narrowed. "Where's the crystal?" Her voice was sharp, demanding an answer.
Ethan met her gaze directly, his expression unwavering. "Kael took it."
This brought Elina abruptly to her feet, her legs dropping from the desk with a dull thud. Her book slid to the floor, forgotten.
"Took it?" she repeated sharply, her voice laced with disbelief. "Why?"
"He said it was unstable," Ethan replied, his tone measured. "Corrupted. Not just goblin magic."
Nick stepped forward, his voice quieter now, more hesitant. "There were crimson veins in its glow. It pulsed. Like… it was alive. Breathing, almost."
Elina stared at them, the amusement entirely gone, replaced by a serious contemplation. "No normal shaman lasts that long. No normal goblin commands that many. If the crystal was corrupted, it might explain the endless waves, the madness, the unnatural coordination."
"What do you think Kael's going to do with it?" Asher asked, folding his arms across his chest, his usual bravado subdued by exhaustion.
Elina exhaled slowly, a long, drawn-out breath. "Hopefully not blow up the forge. But knowing him, he'll study it, test it, maybe even dissect it. If it's what I think it is…" She trailed off, the unspoken implications hanging heavy in the air.
The silence that followed was heavy, pregnant with unspoken concerns. Then, Asher opened his mouth, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
He didn't even need to speak. A simple tilt of his head toward Ethan, a subtle raising of his eyebrows, conveyed a message that was both deeply inconvenient and profoundly intriguing.
Elina's finger shot up, instantly silencing him. "Don't." Her voice was sharp, brooking no argument.
Asher blinked, caught off guard. "What?"
"I can see it," Elina said, her voice dangerously low. "Whatever weird secret you three are brewing behind those vacant expressions, just… don't. Keep it to yourselves. I already have a headache, and it's way too early in the day to deal with another mess."
Asher closed his mouth, glancing sheepishly at Ethan. Ethan, in turn, found the intricately patterned floorboards suddenly fascinating. Nick whistled innocently, staring at the ceiling, his hands clasped demurely behind his back like a schoolboy caught in a minor transgression.
Elina's eyes narrowed, her voice dropping an octave. "Especially if it involves eggs or something equally disgusting."
The trio froze, their expressions a mixture of surprise and guilt.
Dead silence descended once more.
Then Elina blinked, her voice a confused whisper. "Wait… does it involve eggs?"
"Nope!" Asher squeaked, his voice a full octave higher than usual, his attempt at denial rather unconvincing.
"Not even slightly," Ethan added, maintaining a stiff, unconvincing expression of forced neutrality.
Nick cleared his throat, attempting to salvage the situation with a philosophical diversion. "I mean, what even *are* eggs, really? Philosophically speaking?"
Elina closed her eyes, rubbing her temples with a weary sigh. "You three are going to give me wrinkles before I hit twenty-five." She paused, then added, with a grudging sigh, "You each get 45 points added to your end-of-year grade, by the way. Consider yourselves lucky that Kael's working on your weapons. Most students have to buy their own, you know."
More silence descended, this time broken only by the subtle creaks of the ancient building settling around them.
Asher shifted uncomfortably, then leaned conspiratorially toward Ethan. "Should we… check on Kael? Make sure he hasn't fused himself to an anvil?"
Ethan nodded almost imperceptibly.
Nick, ever the pragmatist, started backing towards the door. "Yeah, let's do that. You know… offer our supportive forging presence."
Elina opened her eyes just enough to shoot them a withering glare. "Just don't break anything else."
"We never break anything on purpose," Asher called back, his voice fading as they shuffled out of the hall.
The mission hall doors creaked shut behind them, their footsteps fading into the distance. Elina sat back down, exhaled slowly, and picked up her book – though her eyes no longer moved across the page. Something had definitely changed. She could feel it. And somewhere in the back of her mind, a single, persistent word echoed – unspoken, yet undeniably present.
*Eggs*.