Divine Daughter

The bandits stood frozen, eyes wide, weapons forgotten in their hands — every man watching the crumpled form of their fallen comrade, still twitching faintly in the dirt. Behind the gate, the villagers held their breath. No one dared speak, as though words might invite ruin.

Lila stood beside Riku, arms relaxed but poised, her half of the bread now gone. The scent of wheat and wild yeast still lingered in the air, mingling with torch smoke and rising tension.

The bandit leader's eyes narrowed into slits.

"That was a trick," he spat. "You poisoned the bread and made it look like divine magic."

"What you call a trick," Riku said, calm as still water, "is nothing more than the divine reminding you: greed always leaves a bitter aftertaste. Some stomachs just aren't meant to hold blessings."

The leader growled low in his throat, stepping closer, his blade now fully drawn. Flames from the torches reflected in his eyes like those of a cornered predator.

"I've had enough of riddles. Enough of games. You think a bit of bread and light can scare the Scorchback Kin? You brat were not even born when we made a name for ourselves."

He turned, shouting back at the villagers. "We'll take your grain, your wells, your lives — everything you tried to build. And if we have to carve it from your bones, so be it."

Gasps rose from the villagers. Barou placed a hand protectively in front of Lila. Riku, however, didn't so much as raise his voice.

"You were given one warning," he said. "And you've chosen noise over reason."

The bandit leader scoffed. "Noise? What noise?"

Riku stepped forward, unrolling a cloth-bound case from his inventory.

He opened it with a reverent calm, revealing a simple silver flute — unremarkable to the eye, polished but unadorned. A relic from his bard subclass, forgotten even in the game's final builds.

He turned to Lila.

"Take this."

She blinked. "What am I—?"

"Just play," Riku said, placing the flute gently into her hand. "Any tune your heart remembers."

The bandits burst out laughing.

"She's going to serenade us now?" one mocked.

"Maybe we should all sit and clap!" another jeered, nudging his comrade.

But Riku's gaze remained fixed on Lila, and in his eyes — calm, unblinking — she saw something more. Not command. Not desperation.

Trust.

Lila raised the flute slowly to her lips. Her hands trembled, just slightly, as she let her breath fill the hollow chamber.

The first note was soft.

Melodic.

A warm, rising tone that curled gently into the night air like incense smoke.

To the villagers, A lullaby rose from the flute — soft and nostalgic, like sunlight dancing through linen. It wound its way through the square, washing over the villagers like a warm bath drawn after a hard day. Some felt tears prick their eyes and didn't know why.

But for the Scorchback Kin, the sound was no lullaby. It struck like jagged iron scraping across the inside of their skulls — high-pitched static laced with something primal. It wasn't just noise. It was wrong. As though the universe itself was shrieking at them to run.

The moment the note reached them, their expressions twisted.

"What—what is that?"

The second note struck like a splinter through the mind.

To their ears, it wasn't music — it was a howl, high-pitched and sharp, as though every bone in their body had begun to rattle with a shrieking whistle they couldn't shut out.

The third note was worse.

It sounded like claws on steel, the dragging of teeth through their minds. Static. Screeches. Whispers layered under screams. Some dropped their weapons, clapping hands to their ears. One staggered and vomited. Another swung wildly at the air, as if the sound itself were attacking him.

"Make it stop! Make it stop!" someone shrieked.

But Lila played on — unaware, serene — a simple, lovely melody from her childhood.

The more she played, the more the bandits faltered. Their leader tried to raise his voice, but it cracked in his throat, drowned in the sound only they could hear.

[Effect Active: Disruptive Harmonics – Targeted Perception Layering (Bandits only)]

One of the bandits tried to raise his sword, but his grip slipped. Another stumbled into a crate, vomiting. Their leader fell to one knee, growling through clenched teeth, before tossing his weapon aside and bellowing, "Fall back!"

Their boots scraped over stone, weapons forgotten, curses half-formed in their mouths.

"Retreat! RETREAT!"

The last thing they left behind were the ropes that had bound the adventurers, now limp on the ground.

After the Silence

When the final note faded, the square fell still.

The villagers were silent, not from fear — but awe.

Riku stepped forward as Lila lowered the flute, confused.

"What… what just happened?"

"You were chosen," Riku said simply, turning to the crowd.

A hushed murmur spread through them like ripples over still water.

"You all saw it," he continued, voice ringing out over the square. "They came with blades. With hunger. And yet they could not stand against a single song from the daughter of Elowen."

He raised his hand toward Lila.

"She is the one the divine has blessed. I am merely the messenger."

Barou dropped to his knees.

"Our protector… our chosen…"

Others followed. One by one, villagers knelt. Even the elderly bowed, pressing their hands to their hearts.

Lila's eyes widened in alarm.

"No—no, you've got it wrong!" Lila's voice cracked. "I was just playing! I didn't do anything sacred! I—I didn't even know what it was!"

She turned to Riku. "You—why would you—?"

He leaned close, speaking quietly enough that only she could hear.

"They need something to believe in. Let them believe in you."

"But I didn't even know what the flute—"

"Exactly," he said gently. "Which makes it more convincing."

Lila opened her mouth to protest again, but the crowd began chanting softly — not her name, but her title.

"Divine Daughter… Blessed Song… Divine Daughter…"

"All hail the Divine daughter, All Hail the Blessed Mother"

Riku stepped back and raised his hands.

"Tonight, we were reminded that Elowen does not stand alone. The divine walks among us. And now, so should joy."

He turned to the villagers.

"Continue the feast. Dance. Sing. Live. The unpleasant can wait for another dawn."

The tension began to crack, replaced by relief, laughter, and scattered applause.

Lila stood frozen for a long moment, flute still in hand, surrounded by kneeling villagers and glowing lanterns.

Riku walked beside her, whispering again.

"Don't worry. You'll get used to being worshipped."

She elbowed him sharply in the ribs. 'Who wants to get used to it? You are clearly the one who did some magic, and made me your scapegoat."

He didn't flinch.

But he did grin.