The room exuded an aura of ancient wisdom and subtle menace, a place where time seemed to stand still under the weight of centuries. Leola slipped quietly through the front door, her movements deliberate, hoping to avoid detection. The orb of light floating near her father's hand cast an eerie glow, but Aaravos's back was turned, his focus absorbed in the swirling energies within the orb.

As she crossed the room, Leola noticed the faint smudges of blue paint still on her hands. Panic flickered in her eyes, and she quickly shoved her hands into her pockets, her heart pounding. She was almost to the hallway, the safety of her room just a few steps away, when Aaravos's voice cut through the silence.

"Leola, where have you been?"

The smooth but displeased tone sent a shiver down her spine. Leola froze, caught like a rabbit in a snare. She hadn't realized how late it had gotten. Turning slowly, she tried to compose herself, forcing a casual smile.

"I'm sorry, Father," she said, her voice steady but strained. "I lost track of time. It won't happen again."

Aaravos finally turned to face her, his piercing gaze scrutinizing every detail. His eyes, hauntingly beautiful pools of starlight, took in the tension in her stance and the way her hands were hidden. He stepped closer, his expression unreadable but the narrowing of his eyes suggesting displeasure.

"Lost track of time?" he repeated softly, though there was an edge to his voice. "That's not like you, my dear. What could have possibly distracted you so?"

Leola bit her lip, trying to maintain her calm, but the weight of his gaze was overwhelming.

"I was just… exploring," she replied, forcing lightness into her tone. "Nothing important."

Aaravos raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. He moved closer still, his tall frame casting a long shadow over her. His presence was imposing, a reminder of the ancient power he wielded effortlessly. Instinctively, Leola took a step back, her unease growing.

"Exploring?" Aaravos echoed, his voice lower, more insistent. "Interesting. And why, may I ask, are you hiding your hands?"

Leola's eyes widened slightly, her mind racing. She hesitated just long enough for Aaravos, ever the astute observer, to reach out and gently pull one of her hands from her pocket. The faint blue paint smudges were visible against her pale skin.

"Paint?" Aaravos murmured, his tone a mix of curiosity and concern. "How very curious. What has my little star been up to?"

Leola tried to pull her hand back, but Aaravos held it gently, his expression shifting from suspicion to intrigue. Realizing she had been caught, she took a deep breath, preparing to tell him the truth.

"I… I wanted to get you a gift," she confessed, her voice trembling slightly. "But I wanted to earn it myself. So, I… I've been painting a human's shed. They paid me ten dollars each time, but today… they offered me fifteen if I painted the fence as well. I didn't mean to be late, Father. I'm sorry."

Aaravos's expression softened as he processed her words. The emotions flickering across his face were complex—pride, concern, and perhaps a hint of sadness.

"You did that for me?" Aaravos asked softly, almost to himself.

Leola nodded, her eyes pleading for his understanding. Aaravos let go of her hand and turned away slightly, his thoughts distant and his expression unreadable. The silence between them was heavy with unspoken words.

"Leola," Aaravos said after a long pause, his voice quiet and filled with gravity, "you must understand… what you did was dangerous. We, Startouched elves, do not mingle with humans for very good reasons. They are unpredictable, and our power is something they would covet or fear."

Leola stepped closer, her voice small but determined. "I just… wanted to do something special for you, Father. I know you don't need gifts, but… I wanted to show you that I could do something on my own, something real."

Aaravos turned back to her, his gaze softening as he knelt to her level, placing his hands gently on her shoulders. His touch, though firm, was reassuring.

"I see your heart, Leola, and I'm touched by your intentions," Aaravos said tenderly. "But you must promise me… no more secrets, no more risks. If something were to happen to you… I don't know what I would do."

Leola nodded, her heart swelling with the weight of her father's love and concern. She threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. Aaravos held her close, his expression softening as he closed his eyes, savoring the moment.

"I'm sorry. I promise I won't keep you waiting," Leola said, her voice muffled against his shoulder.

Aaravos held her for a moment longer, his grip tightening slightly as if to reassure himself of her safety. "Good," he said with quiet resolve. "Now, let's wash this paint off your hands, and then you can tell me more about this gift of yours."

"But, Dad… it needs to stay a surprise," Leola said.

"Ah, I see. But, sweetheart, make sure you arrive home on time next time," Aaravos said.

Leola nodded and left the house. As Aaravos spent time alone, he smiled at the small tokens of Leola's affection scattered around. When he opened his spell book, he found a tiny note. Unfolding it, he chuckled. "Leola… you drew your Dad with a mustache?"

Aaravos's heart swelled with happiness. He had created her from his dreams, envisioned the perfect, quirky girl who would visit him. Her first words had been "Papa," and he remembered how his heart had soared at that moment. These memories, precious and unique, were the greatest joy of his life.