Chapter 43: The Twisted House of Mertens

Ellion's appearance had changed drastically since the day he'd left his family nearly eight years ago—a date that loomed heavy on both his and Via's minds as it approached tomorrow. His once-proud shoulders now drooped under the weight of age and regret, and his face, once brimming with vitality, was now a hollow echo of itself. His hair, which had been a thick, raven mane in his youth, was entirely gone, leaving his scalp pale and bare. His blue eyes, sharp and calculating, held a weariness that only seemed to deepen the harshness of his features. His frame, once powerful and imposing, had thinned, and his hands, trembling slightly, grasped an oak cane—more a necessity now than an accessory.

Draped in a well-worn but finely tailored navy coat, Ellion stood with a stoic resolve, though the long shadows cast by the evening light seemed to draw out his frailty. The Mertens family crest—a silver owl in flight—was embroidered on his vest, an emblem of the family's once-esteemed name, a name he had left his children and wife to bear alone all those years ago.

Via, leaning against the doorway that connected the entrance hall to the sitting room, watched him with guarded eyes. Her expression, though cool and composed, betrayed the subtle tremor of hurt that lingered from his abrupt departure years prior. When he'd left, she had been a different woman—filled with warmth and optimism, ready to take on the world as his partner. Now, that warmth had been dulled by years of struggle and solitude. Her bun was perfectly arranged, and her lilac dress hung gracefully on her slender frame, but her green eyes, which once sparkled with hope, were now shadowed by a hard-won apathy.

"Home so soon?" Via said, her voice smooth but edged with bitterness.

Ellion's eyes flicked up to her, narrowing slightly. "It's been seven years, woman," he replied tersely. "Your sarcasm is not appreciated."

Via's mouth twisted into a humourless smile. "And what do you expect, Ellion? Kind words for abandoning us? For letting your family fend for itself while you went off on some quest for greatness?"

Ellion's face hardened, his grip on the cane tightening. "I did what I had to for this family. The Mertens name didn't reach its height by doing things halfway."

"Oh, of course," she replied, her voice sharper now, almost a hiss. "And remind me—how much of that height is left? Our children barely know you. They're strangers to the man who should have been here for them. Or perhaps you forgot that it's been eight years, tomorrow, since the day you walked out."

Ellion's jaw clenched. "You think I haven't sacrificed? You think it was easy for me to leave?"

"Ellion," she said, her voice softening slightly, though the bitterness remained. "Sacrifice? What did you sacrifice, truly? You left us all behind with little more than a name and a crumbling legacy. While you were gone, I had to be both mother and father to Lars and Frida. I had to raise them, guide them, while you were nowhere to be found."

He sighed, the sound escaping more as a frustrated exhale than an acknowledgment of her words. "Enough of this," he muttered. "I didn't come back to rehash old arguments. I came to make things right."

"Make things right?" she scoffed, crossing her arms. "You think you can repair nearly a decade of damage with a few words and a strong will?"

He took a deliberate step toward her, his cane thudding on the polished floor. "The family can't continue on its current path, Via. Lars and Frida must come home. They have responsibilities that can't be ignored."

Via raised an eyebrow, her lips pressed tight, though her gaze softened just a fraction as she observed him. "And what do you plan to say to them, Ellion? You think they'll welcome you back with open arms after the way you left them?"

"They'll come home because they understand duty," he replied coldly. "I raised them to respect the family legacy, even if I couldn't be here."

With that, he turned, signalling the end of the conversation as he headed toward his study. Via remained standing in the doorway, her shoulders slumping as his retreating figure grew smaller. She watched him disappear down the dim hallway, a hollow ache settling in her chest, though she kept her expression steeled. She had learned to hide her feelings all too well over the years.

Inside his study, Ellion settled himself at his desk, pulling out a sheet of thick parchment and dipping his quill in a well of ink. His handwriting, once bold and confident, showed slight tremors, but he wrote with a grim determination. The letters were addressed with precision—one to Lars and the other to Frida. Each was brief, the words carefully chosen, summoning them back to the family estate for an "urgent family matter." His message was unmistakably stern, each word laced with the authority that had once kept the Mertens family in high regard.

Sealing the letters with wax bearing the Mertens crest, Ellion moved to the far corner of the study, where a cage of two white owls—the Mertens family birds—waited. They were magnificent creatures, their feathers shining with an ethereal glow, their piercing yellow eyes tracking his every movement. They symbolised the Mertens family: dignified, noble, but tinged with a haunting solitude.

"Take these to Lars and Frida," he commanded, securing a letter to each owl's leg with careful fingers. "And do not linger."

With a soft, understanding coo, the owls took flight, gliding out the open window into the deepening twilight. Ellion watched them disappear into the sky, a faint sense of satisfaction crossing his weary features. In his mind's eye, he could already envision his children's arrival, the family finally reunited under one roof—just as it was always meant to be.

…

"That bastard!" Frida yelled, slamming her desk. "He dares to summon me, after it's been nine years since I last saw him? Oh, the audacity!"

It was early in the morning, and Frida had woken up to see her favourite owl, Weiss, pecking at her hair. Overjoyed to see her partner-in-crime for the first time since she'd left home to become a magic knight, she had showered him with love and attention. Weiss, however, as well as being loyal to Frida, also had a duty to Ellion, and he had insisted in his own owly way that Frida had to see the parchment that he had somehow kept in his beak all this time.

Frida, upon seeing the red ribbon the letter had, immediately became suspicious, flabbergasted, and most of all, pissed off when she realised what the letter was probably about. Taking the letter and sending Weiss on her way, she had gone about her daily routine (albeit angrier than usual), breaking one of the communal showers out of anger, bending a fork, and now, when she actually read the letter, making quite a large crack on her desk.

Erin paused at the doorway, her expression a mix of curiosity and concern. She had known Frida long enough to understand that when the vice-captain was angry, it was best to approach with caution. The crack in the desk and the way Frida was glaring at the letter made it clear that something was seriously off.

"Frida?" Erin's voice was soft but steady, trying to gauge the situation. "What's going on? You look... ready to set something on fire. And there's a huge crack in your desk…"

Frida's piercing gaze snapped to Erin, her lips curling into a snarl. The smoke mage flinched, but Frida took no notice. She didn't answer immediately but instead crumpled the letter into a ball and tossed it aside, her frustration simmering beneath the surface.

"Erin, tell Nozel I'm taking leave of my duties for today," the Amethyst Mage snarled, "and make sure that no one enters this office while I'm gone. Use any amount of force that you have to. If the Captain objects, tell him there's nothing he can do to change my mind, because I NEED this resolved."

Erin listened to Frida's rant, her expression shifting from shaken to thoughtful. The smoke mage had only joined the squad a few months ago, but she knew her vice-captain well enough to tell that when something was bothering her like this, it was almost always about family.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" Frida barked. "Get on with it!"

Erin visibly flinched, and Frida's gaze softened.

"My apologies, Erin," the amethyst mage said, her tone remorseful. "I…haven't been myself today."

On the contrary, you've been a lot like your usual self, Erin thought, though she wouldn't dare to say it out loud.

"You see, Erin," Frida said, putting her full piercing gaze on her subordinate, "I'm going to disclose something that I've never told anyone before."

Erin nodded, listening intently.

Frida took a deep, shuddering breath, the weight of the past seeming to press down on her shoulders. Her voice dropped to a murmur, almost as if she were speaking more to herself than to Erin.

"You know, Erin… I've always been the older one, the one they counted on to carry the family's reputation. I was the prodigy, the star, the one who could wield magic without a grimoire before anyone else my age could even dream of it. And because of that, there was this… pressure. Not just to succeed, but to always be better. To stay on top, no matter the cost."

She clenched her fists, staring down at the cracks in her desk, as if seeing the fractures reflected in her own heart. "But Lars… he was always there, in my shadow, stumbling and falling, yet he kept getting up. Every time. And as much as I mocked him for it, there was something in his eyes that I couldn't understand. He wasn't like me—he wasn't desperate for approval. He just… kept going. Like he didn't care about the Mertens name, or what Father thought. He just wanted to prove something to himself."

Her gaze grew distant, her voice tinged with bitterness. "Our father praised me endlessly, yes, but I saw it… the way he looked at Lars. He called him weak, useless even, but there was hope in his eyes, some foolish belief that Lars might… somehow rise. And that infuriated me. Because for all my achievements, for all the blood and sweat I poured into becoming what I am—there was this silent threat that Lars, the one who was supposed to stay beneath me, might someday climb higher."

Frida laughed bitterly, her tone biting. "I know it's cruel, petty even, but I couldn't stand the thought of him surpassing me. So, I did everything in my power to make sure he stayed below me. Every step he took, I pushed him back. And he never fought back. He just… kept that calm smile, kept training, kept trying, even when he failed. Twice."

Her voice softened, growing almost tremulous, and she hated herself for it. "But now? Now, I look at him, and I wonder… I wonder if he'll be the one to leave me behind. The prodigy, the 'genius' of the Mertens family, being overtaken by the boy I'd dismissed as a failure. It's like I'm losing my edge, slipping away into this… void, where everything I've done, everything I've sacrificed, means nothing."

She fell silent, a storm of emotions flashing across her face. Vulnerability, frustration, and a flicker of something Erin couldn't quite place—a hint of fear. Frida's walls, always so meticulously built, had crumbled in the heat of her confession, leaving her exposed.

But then, as quickly as the mask had fallen, it snapped back into place. She straightened, her piercing gaze hardening, lips twisting into a scornful smile.

"Oh, forget it," she scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "I must sound utterly ridiculous. Feeling sorry for myself when I'm the vice-captain of the Silver Eagles. Pathetic, really. I shouldn't have dragged you into this. Get back to your duties, Erin." She forced a laugh, though it sounded brittle. "I've let my imagination get the better of me. Clearly, I'm overthinking things. Lars will be the same stumbling fool he's always been."

But as she turned away, Erin caught a flicker of doubt in Frida's eyes, a silent admission that perhaps… she wasn't so certain of that after all.

…

When Frida touched down at the Mertens estate, deactivating her Amethyst Crystal Magic: Glissando, she saw Lars waiting for her. Seeing her house then Lars brought back some bad memories that infuriated her, but she was civil, and she held her tongue.

"I assume we're both here for the same reason," Lars said, his gaze much more serious than usual.

Frida scoffed, tossing her hair behind her shoulders. "You think I would willingly come back here of my own volition?"

"Good point," Lars nodded. Without saying another word to each other, the two entered the compound, Frida opening the gates with a key that she'd nearly forgotten that she had. Lars knocked on the door.

Via opened the door with her signature grace, her expression shifting into one of joy when she saw her two children, looking all grown up, both looking the part of proper magic knights. Without a word, she embraced the two in a group hug, which both Mertens children gracefully returned.

No matter the situation with their father, both had made the same promise, word for word.

They would always love their mother.

"Come on," she whispered hurriedly. "He's waiting for you."

Frida's fist tightened, but she still followed her mother, Lars following after her. It was a Mertens family tradition that when two children entered the house at the same time, the oldest one would go in first, followed by the younger one and so on. It was a silly tradition, but one the two upholded nonetheless.

As they passed through the entrance hall, a narrow corridor with various portraits hung on each side, the tension in the air was palpable. Lars's mind was racing with questions. Frida didn't know what to expect as she passed through the gateway.

"Frida…Lars…" a voice rang out. It was Ellion's, as he rose shakily from his seat to greet them. "You've grown… more than I expected."

"I would have thought a man of science would expect his children to grow," Lars snarled, walking past his father and flopping down on a seat, "especially when he's been gone for 9 years." Frida followed suit, descending gracefully onto the seat in a manner not at all similar to her brother, though her fury, restrained as it was, could be felt by everyone in the room.

Ellion, his confidence slightly shaken at seeing his two children barely acknowledge him, sat down as well to face his two children. There was a deafening silence for a while before Frida finally spoke up.

"If you're here to offer your apologies," Frida said, her tone taking on a much harsher quality than usual, "then forget it. I'm leaving."

"You will stay," Ellion declared, for once his voice filled with the authority it had held 8 years ago. Frida, reluctantly, sat down, muttering something inaudible that was most likely a string of curse words.

Lars read the mind energy of everyone in the room. Frida's emotional "aura" (if it could be called that), was a deep shade of red, deeper than he'd ever seen - her fury was intense, and rightly so. His mother's aura was a light shade of blue, and he didn't even need the reading to see the sadness in her face at seeing her once harmonious family torn apart.

But he couldn't read his father's. He didn't want to.

"Tell me something, Father," Frida said darkly, a truly terrifying expression on her face. "What logical reason could there possibly be for someone to leave their children in a key developmental stage of their lives?"

"There was a logical reason-" Ellion replied, but stopped abruptly when he saw his daughter.

Frida held her father's gaze, her tone laced with an icy fury. "A 'logical reason'?" She leaned forward, her posture as poised as a queen's, yet her voice brimming with venom. "What logic, what conceivable reason, could have justified abandoning us during the most crucial years of our lives? Was it some noble pursuit? A cause more important than your own family?"

Ellion's face hardened, though a flicker of something else—regret? guilt?—crossed his features. "Frida," he said, with a faint tremor, "you don't understand. I left because—"

"Because of science?" she cut him off, her voice rising. "I'm sick of hearing that excuse! Science, progress—everything else always came first for you. Mother told us, in her endless patience, that you were out 'changing the world.' But the truth is, you left us to figure everything out on our own!"

Lars, who had been silent so far, couldn't resist throwing in his own bitterness. "We had no father to look up to, no one to teach us anything. You weren't there when we failed, or when we succeeded. You weren't there when we needed you." His voice wavered slightly but held an undercurrent of anger.

Ellion took a steady breath, attempting to regain his composure. "Both of you, listen to me—"

"No," Frida snapped, "you listen. Do you have any idea what it's like, trying to be perfect in your absence? To be both child and adult, all at once, because the one person who should have been guiding us was too absorbed in his precious experiments?" She glared, her voice breaking slightly before she caught herself. "I did everything—everything to prove I didn't need you. That we didn't need you."

Ellion's jaw clenched, and he finally stood, his aura taking on a steely edge. "I know what you think of me," he said, "and perhaps I deserve it. But the choices I made were *not* to abandon you. They were to give you *power* Frida. To give you both a gift that I could only dream of—"

"A gift?" Frida's eyes narrowed. "What 'gift' could justify ripping us apart?"

Lars exhaled sharply, standing from his seat and locking eyes with Ellion. "Actually, I do have a question for you," he said, a faint smirk playing on his lips, though it didn't reach his eyes. "It's one I've been wondering about for a while."

Frida looked over, surprised, but Lars's gaze stayed on their father. "You have Stone Magic. Mother has Glass Magic. So it makes sense why Frida would end up with Crystal Magic—a fusion of both. But my magic? Mind Magic? It's nothing like either of yours."

Ellion tensed, glancing away for a moment, but Lars pressed on. "You always told me not to ask, that I shouldn't question it. Well, here we are—doing the whole family Q and A thing. So I want an answer."

Ellion sighed heavily, his shoulders sinking as if weighed down by the question. For a moment, silence thickened the air, and Lars felt a flicker of dread creep up his spine. Finally, their father spoke, his voice measured but tinged with something close to shame.

"When you were born, Lars," Ellion began, "I... made a decision. A calculated risk. I took your magic gene, the one you inherited from me, a recessive trait for Ruby Magic, and I removed it, modified it." His gaze dropped, and a darkness seemed to pass over his features. "I re-engineered it to create Mind Magic, something I believed would make you extraordinary—something... unique. I wanted you to have a power that could surpass all of us."

Frida's eyes widened in shock, though anger quickly clouded her expression again. "You—modified him?"

Ellion nodded, his voice barely a whisper. "Yes. I wanted you both to possess magic that would make you stronger than I ever could be. So when I altered Lars's gene, I didn't just stop there. I combined the removed elements of his Ruby Magic with your Sapphire Magic, Frida. I fused them, creating what you now know as Amethyst Crystal Magic."

Frida clenched her fists, struggling to contain the wave of emotions roiling within her. "You... experimented on us," she said, her voice low and quivering. "For all your grand words about 'giving us gifts,' you used us as tools."

Ellion looked up, his eyes filled with a strange sorrow. "I did it for you, Frida. For both of you. To give you the future you deserved. You don't know the sacrifices I made—"

"I don't care about your sacrifices!" Frida snapped, standing from her seat, her aura flaring with a dangerous intensity. "You played with our lives. Our magic—our very identities—were shaped by your arrogance! Because you decided to play God!"

Lars, who had been holding himself back, suddenly laughed—though it was hollow, more of a bitter release than anything humorous. "Well, I guess I should thank you, Father. Mind Magic did end up being... unique." His voice cracked slightly, betraying the hurt beneath his sarcasm. "But you've never understood, have you? Magic isn't about power or status. It's not some grand calculation. It's part of us."

He turned, his voice breaking. "And yet, you tampered with that—without a second thought. You forever changed the identity of Lars Mertens."

Frida watched as her brother's expression shifted, his usual confidence evaporating, replaced by raw pain. Lars, who always seemed so sure, now looked... hollow. Shaken. And before she could say anything, he turned on his heel and walked out, leaving a silence that felt colder than any words.

Frida and Ellion locked eyes, and she could see, for once, the faintest glimmer of remorse in her father's eyes. But it wasn't enough. Not anymore.

Without another word, Frida took a step back, her gaze filled with contempt. "You can keep your excuses," she whispered. "You've lost us both." And with that, she turned and walked away, leaving Ellion and Via alone in the suffocating emptiness he had created.

…

"All of you," Frida said, storming into the common room of the base of the Silver Eagles, "outside. Against me. Now."

Soren raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about-"

"Amethyst Crystal Magic:" Frida spat, the name she had once been so proud of turning into acid on her tongue, "Hand of Caesar!"

She then conjured multiple tiny crystal hands, each using extraordinary magical strength to pull every member of the Silver Eagles (against their will) out to the training grounds; Kian, Lyra, Soren, Erin, Nebra, Solid, Nils, and Armand all fell victim to Frida's impromptu abduction, and saw themselves, in the blink of an eye, facing off against their vice-captain.

Frida's eyes scanned the assembly of Silver Eagles, each one of them catching her steely glare. Her gaze was fierce, unwavering, and filled with a fury none of them had ever seen before. She tightened her ponytail, her movements sharp and precise, as she prepared to do battle with her entire squad.

Solid stepped forward first, eager to prove himself. He smirked as he unleashed his spell. "Water Magic: Holy Water Assassination Bullet!" A barrage of water bullets shot toward her with deadly speed and precision.

Frida didn't even blink. "Amethyst Crystal Magic: Athena's Arrow." A gleaming crystal arrow shot forth, piercing through Solid's water bullets like they were made of paper. Before he could react, the arrow struck him dead centre in the chest. He let out a strangled gasp, the force of the impact slamming him into the ground. The unforgiving crystal didn't just knock the wind out of him—it left him sprawled on the ground, gasping for breath and clutching his chest in pain. His vision blurred as he tried to regain his footing, but the damage was done. He wouldn't be getting back up anytime soon.

Frida's gaze shifted to Nebra, who narrowed her eyes, seething with a mixture of fear, worry for her best friend and anger. "Mist Magic: Bewildering Forest of Mist!" Nebra cried, enveloping the training ground in a thick, disorienting fog, hoping to obscure Frida's vision and make her an easy target.

But Frida was unfazed. "Amethyst Crystal Magic: Shattering Voile!" she declared, and with a wave of her hand, crystal shards erupted outward, slicing through the mist with brutal efficiency. The shards whizzed through the air, and Nebra screamed as they tore through her spell, embedding themselves into her limbs. She stumbled back, clutching her arms where the crystal shards had left searing cuts. Frida's crystals hadn't pierced deep enough to be fatal, but Nebra felt the sting with every breath, a painful reminder of her vice-captain's unrelenting power.

Next up was Nils, who gritted his teeth as he prepared his own spell. "Ice Magic: Ice Needle!" he shouted, conjuring a barrage of razor-sharp icicles that shot toward Frida with lethal intent.

Frida raised her arm, forming a shimmering wall between her and Nils. "Amethyst Crystal Magic: Wall of Jericho!" The crystal barrier absorbed the impact effortlessly, and with a swift, dismissive flick of her wrist, she shattered the wall, sending shards flying straight back at Nils. He barely managed to dodge some of the larger crystals, but one shard sliced across his cheek, leaving a deep, bloodied gash. Another chunk of crystal slammed into his shoulder, sending him spinning to the ground, his vision swimming from the pain.

Armand and Soren leaped into action, hoping a combined assault would break her defences. "Lightning Magic: Voltaic Nova!" Armand roared, sending a crackling sphere of electricity toward her.

Soren followed up immediately with his own spell. "Lava Magic: Scorching Torrent!" He summoned a wave of molten lava that surged toward Frida, its heat scorching the air as it barreled forward.

Frida barely reacted. "Amethyst Crystal Magic: Regicide." Massive spires of amethyst crystal erupted from the ground, forming a jagged, impenetrable wall that swallowed the oncoming attacks. The lava and lightning crackled and fizzled as they collided with the unyielding crystal. Without missing a beat, Frida flicked her wrist, sending the towering spires crashing down toward the two men. The crystal shards pummelled them with brutal force, each impact sending shockwaves through their bodies. Armand's limbs trembled as he struggled to lift himself from the ground, his vision blurred by the blood trickling from his head. Soren, too, lay sprawled, clutching his arm where a shard had pierced his skin, the pain searing through him like fire.

Erin, shaken but determined, attempted her own counterattack. "Smoke Magic: Binding Cloud!" she shouted, sending a thick cloud of smoke to wrap around Frida, aiming to constrict her movements.

Frida sneered. "Amethyst Crystal Magic: Shattering Spear." She conjured a spear of crystal that shot through the smoke, piercing Erin's defences effortlessly. The spear struck Erin in the side, knocking the wind out of her as she crumpled to the ground, gasping in pain. The crystalline weapon left a shallow but painful wound, and Erin felt the ache radiate through her entire body as she struggled to stand.

Lyra leaped in, her hands transforming as she activated her spell. "Insect Magic: Wasp Stinger!" She lunged at Frida, her hands morphing into a deadly stinger aimed at Frida's chest.

Frida sidestepped effortlessly, her eyes narrowing. "Amethyst Crystal Magic: Hannibal's Blade." A massive crystal blade formed in her hands, and with a swift, ruthless strike, she brought it down on Lyra's stinger. The force of the impact shattered Lyra's magic, sending a shockwave through her arm that left it limp and throbbing with pain. She staggered back, clutching her wrist as Frida stepped forward, pinning her to the ground with a glare that held no mercy.

Finally, Kian stepped forward, the only one left standing. His gaze was serious as he activated his spell. "Force Magic: Gran Peso!" The air around Frida grew impossibly heavy, each molecule pressing down on her with crushing force. The ground beneath her feet cracked as the pressure mounted, and Kian gritted his teeth, pushing his magic to its limits to hold her down.

But Frida, her eyes blazing with fury, would not be contained. "Amethyst Crystal Magic: Hand of Caesar!" A massive crystalline hand surged forward, defying the weight and pressure Kian had tried to impose. It closed around him with unrelenting force, lifting him off his feet and slamming him to the ground with brutal precision. He gasped as the impact stole the breath from his lungs, his body pinned helplessly beneath the weight of Frida's spell.

With all of them sprawled around her, beaten and bloodied, Frida stood tall, her expression cold and unyielding. She surveyed the wreckage of her squad, the Silver Eagles lying defeated at her feet, and her voice cut through the silence with chilling intensity.

"Is this the best you have to offer?" she demanded, her tone laced with venom. "Are these the knights who are supposed to defend our kingdom? Who is supposed to stand beside me on the battlefield? Because what I see here are children—pathetic, weak children—even the adults among you— who haven't the faintest idea what it means to truly fight."

Her gaze shifted from one squad member to the next, her eyes burning with contempt. "Today, I faced my past—a past that I learned was filled with lies and manipulation. While I've been pushing myself to the brink, my own father was playing games with my life, with my magic. And I am sick of it. I will not be weak. I will not be manipulated. And as long as I'm alive, I will not let any of you fall behind, because in battle, weakness is death. This kingdom demands our strength, and I will not allow it to be brought down by a squad too feeble to stand its ground."

Her voice softened, but the intensity remained. "You will train harder. You will fight as if your life depends on it—because one day, it will. And when that day comes, I expect each of you to be able to hold your own."

She raised her hand, conjuring a new healing spell that she had just learned how to use. "Amethyst Crystal Magic: Amethystia Vitalis," she whispered. Amethyst crystals began to appear around each member of the squad, and she walked away, her eyes still resolute, her fury not truly suppressed.

From a shadowed corner, Captain Nozel Silva watched in silence, his expression inscrutable. There was a flicker in his eyes—a spark of something unreadable as he observed Frida's fury, her strength, and her resolve.

A/N: This was a really fun chapter to write lmao

How it feels to give OC's unnecessary trauma for no reason...

Also, in your opinion, does this put Ellion on the level of scientists like Morris and Sally, or below them or even above?