As a necromancer, Stephanie had very few interests.
Having spent years dealing with skeletons and corpses, she had long lost certain physiological functions and desires that were part of being human.
It was rare to see Miss Stephanie passionate about anything—if she was, it usually involved her obsession with bones and skeletons.
But today, Nolan discovered something new. The infamous—or rather, notorious—necromancer seemed to have quite the enthusiasm and expertise in tormenting others.
Felicia had decided to lock Penelope in the basement for a while, hoping to "correct her ungrateful attitude." And during this period, the ever-so-compassionate Miss Stephanie would undoubtedly become Penelope's best companion and conversation partner… Of course, Nolan still hoped that one day Penelope would be able to walk out of that basement alive and—if she were lucky—still retain her beauty.
But these trivial matters could be set aside for now.
Christmas was only two days away, and the vampire festivities in England were still in full swing.
Aside from the final round of the vampire males' Muggle-hunting competition and the elegant theatrical performances enjoyed by the vampire ladies, there was also something rather peculiar.
For some reason, Felicia—perhaps struck by a bout of girlish sentimentality (or more likely, a full-blown princess complex)—had become obsessed with the idea of a gingerbread house, inspired by Muggle fairy tales. And so, she had mobilized all the noble vampires to construct what Nolan considered a completely ridiculous candy-covered shack.
Nolan had been busy with this nonsense the entire night of the 22nd. By the time he finished assembling the cookie chimney, his entire body was covered in soot and sugar dust.
Sometime after three in the morning, Eve's long-eared owl, Phamas, delivered a message. The little witch and her mother would be arriving at Randall Gorge tomorrow—Christmas Eve.
It seemed that Miss Angela Stock had finally made her choice. She was ready to join the ranks of the immortal, the cold-blooded nobility who thrived in the shadows.
The thought of seeing Eve again in just a few hours filled Nolan with a rare sense of excitement. He left the Sistines Manor early, greeted Baron Dura—who was covered in cream from head to toe—and made his way past that absurd gingerbread house. He intended to venture into the forest to inform the two elf sisters that Eve would soon be arriving.
As he reached the edge of the woods, two dire wolves leaped out from the shadows.
Shafa had been training them lately, and by now, these magical wolves had become the best mode of transportation in Randall Gorge—second only to automobiles.
Nolan climbed onto the back of one wolf and gave a simple command: "Take me to Lúthfa."
The dire wolf let out a low huff and bolted forward, moving faster than a cheetah, effortlessly navigating the uneven terrain of the forest.
Nolan watched as the withered tree trunks blurred past his vision, a whirlwind of motion surrounding him. Even the vast flocks of bats overhead couldn't keep pace with his mount. A pleasant sense of freedom stirred within him.
Compared to Hogwarts, Randall Gorge was truly liberating. This was where he belonged.
This was home.
…
Lúthfa's cabin stood deep within the forest. Compared to the massive hollow tree she had once lived in back in Ireland, this small wooden house was practically a mansion.
At the very least, it had a foundation. And a door. And if you peeked inside—an actual bed.
"I never thought I'd see the day when you started using furniture, Lúthfa."
Dismounting the dire wolf, Nolan stepped inside and spotted Shafa under the dim glow of magical light, studying a cluster of plants. He sat beside her on the bed and spoke casually.
"The forest here is filled with dead trees," Lúthfa replied quietly. "Elves don't like harming trees, but we aren't stubborn. Since these ones are already dead, we don't mind using them."
She paused in her work and turned toward Nolan, her large, pure eyes locking onto his face. Normally serene—somewhat dazed, even—the elf priestess seemed to hesitate before speaking in a small voice.
"Are you… disappointed in me?"
Nolan raised an eyebrow. "Disappointed? Why would I be?"
"Shafa has already transitioned into a dark elf. But I haven't."
Lúthfa lifted her smooth, delicate arm, parting it slightly so Nolan could see beneath. "Not even a trace of darkness."
Nolan wasn't sure what to make of this. Was she showing her underarm as a sign of submission, like a dog rolling over? Or was it that elves transitioning into dark elves always started with their armpits?
Either way, it wasn't important.
He thought for a moment before answering, "I'm not upset. Shafa was a ranger. She was always accustomed to blending into the shadows, which made it easier for her to adapt to darkness. But you… you were a priestess. In your elven village, the priestess was always the purest among the elves."
He paused, then added in a calm tone, "I don't care how long it takes. Whether it's for me or for you—we both have lifetimes ahead of us. You can take your time transitioning, getting used to it… And even if you never become a dark elf, that's fine too. Randall Gorge may be a vampire's domain, but there's no rule against having a fair-skinned, beautiful gardener."
Lúthfa blinked.
The bond between the two elf sisters had always been somewhat distant. Shafa was cold, while Lúthfa was indifferent. But right now, Nolan could sense a shift in her emotions.
Look at her ears—they were twitching up and down.
"…Compared to Shafa, I can't do much for you." Lúthfa lowered her voice. "Back in the elven forest, I was a priestess. The entire settlement followed my guidance because my magic could protect our home from evil. Back then, Shafa was just a ranger. But now, in Randall Gorge, I can no longer protect anything. My powers as a priestess are only useful for growing flowers and plants… Meanwhile, Shafa has gained Theresa's favor. I know she is more valuable than I am. Much more, isn't she?"
Well… that was true.
Shafa had contributed greatly to Randall Gorge—training the dire wolves as a security force, clearing out the werewolves from the forest, and serving as the best and most elusive scout in the region.
So, in the elven village, Lúthfa had once held a higher status. But now, she was feeling… displaced.
Understanding this, Nolan's voice softened slightly. His pale hand reached out, resting gently atop Lúthfa's head as he spoke slowly.
"I don't measure a servant by how useful they are. What I value most is loyalty." His tone was steady. "Lúthfa, if I gave you a chance to return to Ireland and live the same life as before—"
"You already know I would refuse."
Lúthfa leaned forward, pressing her graceful, noble throat against his chest. Her voice was barely above a whisper.
"Priestess Lúthfa already belongs to you."