Awakening in The World of Gods

Back at home, Poll leaned against his bed, the open book in his hands doing little to capture his attention. I wonder how the king plans to send me those documents... Maybe a spy? Or a carrier pigeon? he mused, the corners of his mouth twitching into a knowing smirk. Just as he was about to entertain the idea of a spy in a dark cloak, the front door swung open with a creak. Eryndor strode in, looking unusually pale and exhausted, an envelope clutched tightly in his hand. His expression was a mix of worry, annoyance, and something... else.

Eryndor dropped the envelope on the table with a soft thud. "Poll," he said, his voice tight with restrained frustration, "I need you to answer something."

Poll glanced at the sealed envelope but tried to feign disinterest, pretending to be absorbed in the book. "Father, you're back already? You look… well, tired, and perhaps a bit—what's the word—'flustered'?" Poll quipped, a playful glint in his eye.

Eryndor's eyes narrowed. "Flustered? That's one way to put it. How would you explain a king sending a secret report about a meeting to a child? Care to explain what exactly happened in there?" He flopped onto a chair, still clutching the document like it might bite him.

Poll, trying to suppress his amusement, shrugged innocently. "Ah, that? Not much, really. Just a little chat with the king—nothing world-shattering."

Eryndor rubbed his temples, as if trying to stave off a headache. "You're just a kid, Poll. This is real politics. Dangerous, messy, and full of people who don't take kindly to your antics."

Just as Eryndor spoke, Seraphina entered from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a cloth. "What's all this about?" she asked, glancing between her husband and son.

Eryndor sat up straighter, his stern expression quickly melting into a more relaxed one. "Oh, nothing too important. Just the usual... little conversations with kings," he said with a sigh, turning to Poll. "Anyway, what's for dinner? I'm starving."

Seraphina chuckled and set the table, and the family soon gathered around. The conversation shifted to lighter matters, the tension in the room dissipating as they shared their evening meal.

Later that night, Poll found himself alone in his basement room, his experiments and magical tools scattered about. He flipped on a small lamp, the soft light casting gentle shadows. He cracked open the envelope, the king's documents resting in his hands. As Poll scanned the pages, excitement bubbled beneath his calm exterior. It wasn't just the information he found—it was the hidden message, the quiet challenge the king had sent.

As Poll carefully examined the documents, the soft rustle of cloth reached his ears, followed by a faint thud. He turned, eyes wide, just in time to see Elowen tumbling down the last rung of the ladder, her small figure crashing onto the floor with a startled "Ouch!"

"Elowen?" Poll leapt to his feet, his eyes scanning her for injury. "What are you doing down here? Are you alright?"

She rubbed her head, wincing slightly. "Well, I was hoping to surprise you, but... it seems the only one surprised here is me." She smiled, though it was tinged with a bit of embarrassment. "Guess I'm not as graceful as I'd like to think."

Poll chuckled and quickly grabbed a bandage. "You're lucky I'm here to rescue you." His voice was teasing, but his hands were gentle as he applied the bandage to the small cut on her forehead. "Next time, try not to take a tumble on your way down. How many times have I warned you about the ladder?"

"I like a little danger in my life," Elowen retorted, her playful tone matching his. "Besides, you've made it a habit of turning everything into a risky adventure. If you're the captain, I'm the first mate."

Poll raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "First mate, huh? Does that mean you'll have to keep watch when the real danger arrives?"

"Elowen rolled her eyes, but there was warmth in her smile. "I'll keep watch, but you're the one always leading us into trouble. So, you better keep your eyes open for once."

He gave a mock bow. "As you command, Captain. But let's leave the trouble for another time, shall we?"

As they shared a small laugh, the conversation shifted to other matters, Poll telling her about his strange encounter with the king. He chose his words carefully, but Elowen was sharp.

"The king sent you a report about a secret meeting?" she asked, her brow furrowing slightly. "That's… odd. Why would he trust you with something like that?"

Poll leaned back in his chair, the corners of his mouth turning up with amusement. "Maybe because I'm more useful than people give me credit for."

Elowen eyed him skeptically but said nothing. She watched him, her gaze lingering a bit longer than usual, before she shook her head with a small laugh. "You always manage to find your way into situations that no one else would ever get close to."

"I prefer it that way," Poll said with a grin. "The ordinary world is so overrated."

After a long pause, Elowen sighed, getting to her feet. "Well, I suppose I'll leave you to your mysterious plans for world domination then. But don't forget, you promised to help me with my project later."

Poll smiled softly. "I won't forget, don't worry."

As she made her way to the ladder, Elowen paused for a moment, her back to him. "Poll… be careful. You don't always know who you're dealing with."

Her words hung in the air as she climbed up, leaving him alone in the basement. The light from the lamp flickered slightly, casting strange shadows around the room. Poll stared at the documents before him, but his mind was elsewhere—on her words, on the glint in her eyes when she'd said them.

Did she know something? Poll couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, something he hadn't picked up on. A sense of unease settled over him.

Poll turned back to the documents, After few minutes an unusual shift in mana flow pulled him from his thoughts. A low hum vibration alert emanated from a small device on his table, a detection orb he had designed to alert him from any unusual activity. He tensed. Someone—unfamiliar and powerful—was close.