Ilda grabbed Fenway's fingers, and with the same care as she grabbed a rain-soaked fledgling, slowly but surely pulled the mage out of the confined and suffocating space.

The mage's gaze fell on her, his eyes widened slightly, Ilda had changed into her convenient but slightly tough attire, and put on an emerald silk robe that reached to her ankles, her moonlit hair was draped freely and brightly over her rounded shoulders, only her temples were braided into long finger-thick braids, adorned with pearls and opals, her feet were **, and the instep was painted with curly tentacles and stretched blades with Mithril powder.

"You've finally seen me, huh?" said Ilda, with a hint of feigned annoyance.

"I've been watching you," Fenway said, "but your beauty will always amaze me." "From the first time, as today, she swirled from the vine and landed lightly, a flower, a leaf, a little starlight, until now.

"Your lips and tongue are what amaze me the most," Ilda muttered, "perhaps you have a busy hive hidden under your tongue that produces both honey and stingers." ”

"What you get from me is always honey. Fenway assured.

"Then at least let me have a taste. Ilda said, grabbing the placket of the robe, drawing the stubborn fellow closer, their lips touching gently, tongues tentatively running over each other's teeth, dancing together, apart, joined together, with a slight grunt, Ilda's contented inhalation, Fenway lowered his head, and swept the long pearl-dotted braids and maple-scented skin like a dragonfly, briefly sucking on his lover's earlobe, and then continuing to climb up the soft, flexible ear chakra, finally resting on the sensitive tip of the ear, the tip of his tongue tracing its outline, almost smiling at the fine hair, it trembled, and quickly became hot and even hot。

Ilda whispered in his ear the elven poems about love, which Fenway could understand, but he didn't want to understand at all, for the words that symbolized eternity and eternity were merely mockery and ridicule to him, each time like a sharp knife into his abdomen.

"The only love of my life. He said.

Ilda smiled at his collar pin, and she licked his throat, lovingly nibbling on the bulging pit. Her fingers ran over his shoulders instead, digging into his short hair, rubbing the thick stubble.

"My love. She whispered.

The elf stepped back, drawing all of Fenway's attention, her eyes glistening in the dark blue sky, she raised her arms and pulled up her robe, the body under the robe was perfect, her skin was as white as alabaster, Fenway remembered the last time she had seen this wonderful sight, there were small wounds on her waist from a battle, they were now healed, leaving no trace, and he reached out uncontrollably, caressing the places that had been covered in salmon-red scars- Fenway winced imperceptibly as Ilda grasped his pin and untied it, he knew what his body was like, it was simply the most intuitive inverse of the body he caressed, gray, flabby, wrinkled, ribs protruding, stomach hanging beneath his shriveled chest, bones at his knees almost piercing the skin, looking like a gray robe that had been immersed in negative energy and skeletons all day.

He barely noticed that Ilda's fingertips were crossing the back of his neck, and he was once again pulled into a sweet, warm vortex.

Kissing, rubbing, caressing, and occasionally whispering something that even they couldn't figure out, Fenway's palms gently cupped Ilda's smooth and full buttocks, while her hands gripped his hips, which seemed to be covered with only a layer of skin, and the grinding quickly turned into a more powerful crushing against each other, they overlapping each other tightly, like two leaves that never fit again, breathing lightly through the moist skin, while the tip of the tongue busted against the tight, sensitive mucous membranes and muscles.

But just as Ilda wanted to go further, Fenway pushed her away, and incompletely, his fingers still gripping her beautiful dazzling waist.

"This won't work," he whispered, enduring the pain of **, "I'm sorry, Ilda, I didn't have any potions for today, we might be able to try something else......"

"Then don't take a potion. Ilda said, and she lifted up to kiss Fenway's lips, but Fenway immediately ducked.

"I want to have your child. ”

"I'm a half-elf. Fenway said, wary and anguished, "Our child will only be a half-elf, just like my mother, she is an elf, and my father has only a quarter of human blood in his body, but I am still only a half-elf--Ilda, we discussed this issue a long time ago--human blood lasts longer than any curse, I don't want you to get pregnant, my love, I don't want a half-elf offspring!"

"But I think I love you, Fenway, and the one I love is a half-elf," Ilda argued, "and this child will be born in our love!"

"Just like me?"

"Just like you, Fenway, your mother, and your father, they love each other, you can't deny that. ”

"Love like dewdrops, beautiful and short," Fenway said sarcastically, "didn't even stop him from betraying and fleeing." ”

"He's not you, you're not him!" Ilda cried out, "And your mother loves you—she loves you, and she gave up her life for you!"

"It was the stupidest decision she's ever made," Fenway said, "and I hate her for making it." ”

Ilda froze, staring at Fenway as if to make sure that sentence really came from him—"But I've thanked her countless times for making this decision." She said, tears glistening.

Fenway put on his robes, the room still filled the room with the scent of Ilda's scent, like honey and flowers, he opened the small silver bottle in the inner pocket of the robe, and poured all the snow honey into his mouth, he needed to break free from the mire of love as quickly as possible - even though it was a terrible love affair - he returned to the sealed room, ordered the invisible servants to restore everything to the way it was before Ilda's arrival, and then threw the crushed spices into the incense boat and set it on fire.

That spellbook had what he needed, almost as important as Ilda.

And at this very moment, another mage in black robe was standing in front of the door of the sanctuary in Rosada, and from his position, he could see the glorious icon and the huge pool of holy water, and those that looked like doves, Humans gathered by the pool like cats and dogs to sip the so-called holy water, a little girl of only two or three years old staggered through the crowd, her little fingers also pinched a thick green leaf, although the water in it was almost leaking, she was unaware of it, a pair of pure eyes were always close to her small leaf cup, and people smiled and made way for her. Except for the caster, the girl's mother almost pounced on her and picked her up, but the water in the bay cup still spilled on the valuable velvet black robe.

The droplet barely managed to make its way to the surface of the robe, and it fell to the ground, leaving two tear-like marks on the alabaster slab - the mage waved his hand indifferently and contemptuously, and the mother, dressed in a gray cloth skirt and a loose old black shawl, wisely closed her mouth in begging and thanking, and quickly left with her child in her arms.

The young white robe hurried over, his lovely round face flushed, and his brown eyes were as bright and transparent as brown crystals.

"May the morning light bless you, brother. He bowed shallowly to the mage, and when he straightened up, he found that he was staring in the other direction: "Brother?"

"May the morning light bless you," the mage paused slightly, "my dear little brother. ”

Adel always had the illusion that maybe the mage spoke like this, even if it was a blessing, it sounded sarcastic.

"I'm here because I have something to do with you," Adair's brother said bluntly, "Fenway Mage of Grey Ridge, you help me hand over a spellcasting material to him—and then get back the Mithril he had exchanged for it." ”

"Oh yes. Adel said that he knew that Mage Fenway, a half-elf who didn't like humans, but rarely had a good relationship with his brother - well, the second brother in line, they were both mages, and they often exchanged all kinds of materials they needed, strange things, because Grey Ridge did not welcome foreign mages, and as a priest who could often travel back and forth between Grey Ridge and the White Tower, Adel became a diligent little donkey, carrying boxes to and fro.

"If you see the mage named Cremar," said the black robe, "then try to be friends with him—but don't say anything superfluous, you're not good at it." ”

Adele's face flushed.