Rebirth of a Fey Lord

The sprite's wings fluttered gently, and for several moments, there was nothing but the soft hum of the breeze. Eogan waited, heart pounding, until the sprite spoke again. "It could be fun, okay? I'll do it."

In a sudden swirl of light, the sprite absorbed the stone he offered, her tiny body flickering with an ethereal glow. She became fully visible—her form now solidified, a delicate being of pale green energy. She hovered before Eogan's face, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

With a gentle tap on his nose, everything changed.

Eogan gasped as a surge of raw, intense energy coursed through his body. His vision blurred, and a sharp, searing pain shot through him as though something was forcibly weaving its way into his very being. He fought to stifle the scream rising in his throat, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists to keep from alerting Aine.

The pain stretched on, unyielding, as though his body was being reshaped. His breath came in ragged gasps, his chest tight. And then, just as suddenly as it had come, the pain faded. Eogan collapsed to his knees, weak and breathless, trembling from the lingering effects of the magical bond.

The sprite's voice floated down to him, light and almost playful but tinged with surprise. "Considering your age, I'm surprised you didn't lose consciousness. I'm glad my master has the potential to be a powerful tamer."

Eogan groaned, pushing himself up, his body aching. "I knew it would hurt for you to fuse your mana with mine, but I didn't expect it to be that intense."

Aine's voice broke through the haze of his thoughts, ringing clear and bright. "Big brother! Can you help me find more of this pretty red flower?"

Eogan blinked, trying to shake off the daze. He glanced up at the sprite, lowering his voice to a whisper. "We'll continue this later."

The sprite nodded, vanishing into thin air, her presence fading from his shoulder but leaving a faint sense of warmth behind.

Aine appeared from the far side of the field, running toward him with the bright red flower she had found clutched in her hand. She held it up proudly for him to see. "Look, brother! Isn't it pretty?"

Eogan forced a grin, still feeling the effects of the contract but managing to appear unaffected. "I'll search toward the forest, east of the field. You search toward the river, to the west."

"Okay! Thank you!" Aine chirped, then dashed off again, her tiny feet pounding against the earth, her laughter mingling with the wind.

Eogan turned toward the forest, scanning the horizon, but his mind was elsewhere. A deep sense of anticipation and something else—a strange connection to the sprite—settled in his chest. He whispered, "Can you help me find that flower?"

The sprite's voice answered, still unseen but close. "Of course! I've lived in this field for a long time now. I know exactly where they usually grow." With a soft flutter of wings, the sprite was off, weaving through the air like a fleeting whisper.

Eogan stood for a moment longer, feeling the weight of what had just happened, his thoughts heavier than before. This was only the beginning.

Then, the sound of running footsteps drew his attention.

"Young master! Where's your sister?" an urgent voice called from behind him.

Eogan turned to find a young woman panting heavily, her plain brown dress wrinkled from running. "I suppose you're the gardener's daughter?" he asked, unable to suppress a mischievous grin.

She straightened up, hands on her knees as she struggled to catch her breath. "Yes. My name is Maeve." She glared at him with a mixture of exasperation and irritation. "Why didn't you wait for me like my father told you? And where is your sister?"

Eogan's grin widened. "Because I'm the unruly child of the house."

Maeve looked taken aback, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "Huh?"

"As for Aine," he said casually, "she's by the river, looking for a red flower."

"And why aren't you with her?" Maeve asked, finally catching her breath and standing up straight. Her hands were on her hips, her expression one of disbelief.

"Because I'm looking for them by the forest." Eogan shrugged, his tone nonchalant. "You can search in the center of the field."

"But I don't know what they look like!" Maeve protested, her frustration palpable.

Eogan didn't respond, simply turning and walking back toward the forest, already losing interest. "Figure it out."