The memory changed once again.
We watched her wake up from her room in the temple. She blinked, taking in the sight of Aria sitting at the edge of the bed with that sharp loo. I could see the tension in Ely's shoulders as if she were questioning whether Aria had come to scold her or mourn her foolish bravery.
"What are you doing here?"
"You could have died."
"I'm your assistant. If you're not here, someone has to do it. That's the only way it gets done."
"It's a good thing you did. But… have you not forgiven me yet?"
Elyonari looked at her and rolled her eyes.
"I don't hate you for not taking action when I suffered, Aria. I don't even think about it anymore. There's nothing gained in anger. All I need to focus on is getting stronger. All I have to do is to break through to the Grandmaster level of Weapon Mastery. I'll reach it before my Second Birthday. I'll do it."
"Impossible! The Grandmaster level takes millennia to reach! Even Deities take centuries at best. You... can't possibly—"
"I will. I don't care if no one else believes it. I'll do it."
She stood up and began to walk out of the room. She paused briefly and turned to face her.
"I don't hate you, Aria. You're the one who stayed away thinking I hated you. That doesn't matter anymore."
The moment she was gone, the memory changed. This time, it looked like a training montage.
The next images were impossible to watch without wincing. The sun kept rising and falling while she ran through the forest, stringing arrow after arrow, releasing them with incredible speed. Her hands bled and bled again. Her fingers cracked and tore yet she stitched them herself with crude methods and forced herself to continue.
Arrows snapped in her hands. Her bones knelt getting bruises and her joints dislocated from time to time and yet she carried on. I saw her in the arena when she was a teenager. Her body was smeared with mud and blood. She was exhausted beyond what any normal Elf could endure and yet she pressed herself further. Every miss, every failure and every stinging reprimand of her own failure drove her to the next shot.
She practiced in every imaginable weather. She did it in heat so fierce that her skin blistered. Rains soaked her bandages and reopened every wound. She also trained in winds so violent that they sent her arrows off course. Through all that, she adjusted and adapted through it all. She didn't take breaks except for the barest moments to catch her breath and even then she barely allowed herself to drink water or eat. She trained herself through pain and exhaustion so extreme that I could almost feel it myself as I watched.
Her bodyguards assisted, sometimes offering support, holding equipment or sometimes simply standing silently. She often refused to let even them carry her work for her. She wanted every ounce of this brutal mastery to be hers alone.
The years passed. The montage was relentless. I saw arrows piercing targets she could barely see and arrows that seemed to move faster than sight itself. Her form became perfect. There were nights when she collapsed or her bandages were soaked in blood from her own calloused hands and childhood injuries tearing open again but she rose each time, unbroken in will if not in flesh.
Through it all, she never lost her focus.
Every day, every arrow, every tear and scream, every brutal wound and pain was etched into the memory. It was the kind of training that no normal being could endure and yet she thrived under it.
And then, at last, we saw it.
Elyonari stood on top of a cliff with the wind tugging at her hair and her clothes. She tied a blindfold over her eyes without hesitation. The moment her fingers gripped Touch, the air around her seemed to still.
Then she let herself fall.
There was no panic in her movements. In that instant, she drew thirteen arrows, shooting them in perfect rhythm even as her body spun through the air. Each arrow traced an impossible path in perfect sequence. I tried to follow them but it was instantaneous.
Before I could process the first shots, she had landed on the ground below by accelerating hee fall using the wind. Without stopping, she released another thirteen arrows. I could feel Veneri beside me stiffen as the second set collided perfectly with the first. Arrowheads met arrowheads. Then she released one final arrow which passed through all twenty-six in midair, bisecting them in perfect halves.
Elyonari removed the blindfold and ran to the arrows as if it were the most natural thing in the world, laughing. That laugh was the first sound I had heard from her in years that didn't carry the weight of restraint.
She was a Grandmaster but since she's too weak, her awakening wasn't active. Maybe when she gets to the fifth, it will. After all, an awakening of one's body requires Base Tethers and hers are locked.
She looked out toward the distant Borough and I could see the exhaustion in her posture.
"Seriously, it's been four years since I left the temple. Tomorrow's my Second Birthday and I can't miss it. It should take a day to get back. Oh well, better get moving."
She turned and ran and even watching through these memories, I could feel the force of her movement. She didn't run like a girl, a child or a Princess. She was completely changed.
Veneri turned to me, and I could see the question in his eyes before he spoke.
"Is that the end of the memories?"
I shook my head.
"There's one last part. It's what made her who she is now. This is what we all know except you. You better get ready. It's not exactly pleasant."