Chapter 312 Lisa: Elverly's Seasonings

LISA

"So, this is the face," I explain, pointing to my crude circle. "And these are buttons on the side for different functions." I add a few lumps to represent the buttons.

The Grand Sage peers at my drawing, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "I see. And you believe we could adapt something like this for magical communication?"

"Maybe?" I shrug, feeling a bit self-conscious about my suggestion now that I've said it out loud. "I mean, I don't know much about magic. It was just an idea."

He nods slowly, his eyes still fixed on my terrible sketch. "You know, Lisa, your idea has some merit. The compact size would certainly be an advantage. Of course, I'd need to acquire some of these watches to see what I could do with them, but it's an intriguing concept."

A warm flush of pride spreads through my chest at his words. It's nice to feel like I've contributed something useful, especially when I often feel so out of my depth in this magical world.

A strange scratching sound comes from the door, startling me out of my warm glow. I glance at the Grand Sage, who looks equally puzzled.

"I'll get it," I offer, pushing away from the table.

As I approach the door, the scratching intensifies, sounding distinctly impatient. Curious, I turn the handle and pull the door open.

To my surprise, Selene slinks into the room, her silver fur gleaming in the dim light. Ice-blue eyes meet mine before she pads past me, walking straight toward the older gnome, where they stare at each other in silence. Probably mind-reading each other or something.

sigh, grabbing for a washcloth and wiping the floor. Muddy paw prints trail behind Selene, leaving the marks of her presence. "Walking into a home,

mind the mess. But Selene isn't a dog. She's a

my floor?" Elverly points at them, her ascerbic words even throwing Selene off guard. The husky raises a paw, leaning her head down to sniff at it, her tail sliding between her

here. Do

Grand Sage. Her wrinkled face contorts into what I can only describe as a grimace of politeness as she curtsies. It's

Grand Sage," she intones, her voice flat. "It was

the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. Elverly's delivery? Let's just say she'd never make it as an

to me. Maybe she could hear my internal laughter, which stops abruptly as she stomps over, each step punctuated by a soft

"Kitchen.

face. "Didn't you

already turning towards the kitchen. "You're getting fat.

Wasn't she just complaining about the quality of the food

the kitchen doorway, throwing me a look over her shoulder that clearly questions my intelligence. "Of course I did. I understand

spice rack a priority during an escape. But then, a memory flashes through my mind—the chaos of our flight, the urgency, the fear. My smile fades as

call out, following her into the kitchen. "Did you... did you pack your seasonings before you woke

bustling around the small space, pulling out pots and pans with a clatter that seems too loud in the sudden silence that follows my question. For a moment, I think she hasn't heard me. But then she turns, fixing me with those

what if I did?" she challenges, one eyebrow raised. "Would you rather I left them behind?

at her,

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