"I can help you."
At Ulrich's words, Ceres simply stared at him, her breath freezing in her throat as his words rang. She tried to parse the meaning behind his gaze. There had to be a mistake. He could not possibly mean what he had just said, not with such certainty.
"W—What?" She stammered, the single word scraping past her lips. Even knowing it was a fool's hope, she had to ask.
Ulrich held her gaze.
"The Thornbreath is a curse," he said. "It first appeared five hundred years ago, born of a forbidden union between a Skyborn Elf and a Witch. Their child, a daughter, was brought into this world as both entities at once. She possessed the internal Tree of a Witch, yet carried the blood of an Elf. It was a fatal contradiction. That flaw severed her from the Spirits. They refused to accept her, making the ancient elven contracts and their pure magic impossible for her to grasp."
