The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

The wind roared around them, a relentless force that threatened to rip Mikhailis and Elowen from their seats. The carriage pitched and swayed as the Skyras Hawk, talons dug deep into the frame, soared higher into the stormy sky. The once steady rhythm of hooves on a dirt path had now transformed into a cacophony of rattling wheels, creaking wood, and panicked shouts.

"Rodion! Any ideas on how not to die?" Mikhailis shouted, barely able to hear himself over the wind's howl. His storm-gray eyes were wide, his knuckles white as they gripped the edge of the seat for dear life. Rodion, his ever-sarcastic AI companion, hummed in his ear, his voice frustratingly calm.

<If I had a body, I'd say your chances of survival would involve a rather painful tumble down a rocky hill, potentially ending with several broken bones, perhaps a dislocated shoulder or two, and likely a concussion. At best, you'd be left with bruises for weeks. Worst case? Well, let's just say there might be a need for a body bag.

But if you're feeling lucky, I'd recommend tucking and rolling, Mikhailis.>

"Very funny," Mikhailis muttered, sweat trickling down his temple as the bird ascended. He glanced at Elowen, her golden eyes narrowed, her brows furrowed in determination. Her expression was far from scared—it was concentrated, like someone deep in calculation. The wind whipped her silvery hair around her face, and she suddenly straightened.

"Leave it to me!" she yelled over the chaos.

"What?!" Mikhailis blinked, but there was no time to process her words.

Elowen took a deep breath, her eyes suddenly glowing with an intense golden light. Mikhailis couldn't help but stare as a hum of magic crackled in the air. She stretched her arm outward, her hand trembling as it glowed bright green. He had seen her use magic before—summoning vines to shield herself or coaxing flowers to bloom—but nothing on this scale.

With a shout, Elowen unleashed her spell. A massive trunk of wood erupted from the center of the carriage, growing rapidly with twisting branches and sharp thorns. Mikhailis's eyes widened as the trunk pierced the air like a spear—aimed directly at the Skyras Hawk.

The hawk's screech pierced the storm, its giant wings flapping desperately as it tried to evade Elowen's conjured wood, but her magic was swift and relentless. The trunk of wood thrust forward with precision, slamming into the hawk's chest with such force that the creature let out a pained cry, its talons loosening their iron grip on the carriage.

Suddenly, the world around Mikhailis seemed to tilt, and he felt the gut-wrenching sensation of weightlessness as the carriage broke free from the hawk's clutches. The wind whipped at him, the sky swirling in chaos as they began to fall, the ground rushing up to meet them in a blur of green and brown.

His heart raced, and panic rose in his throat, but there was no time to think—only react."Then what?!" Mikhailis screamed, his heart slamming against his ribs as the sky flipped upside down. His mind raced, panic rising in his throat. They were falling, the ground rushing toward them with frightening speed.

Elowen didn't answer, her glowing eyes focused on the earth below. She shifted her stance, her gaze narrowing as she aimed her magic at the rapidly approaching ground. Her hands were glowing brightly, energy gathering between her palms.

Mikhailis, meanwhile, had no idea what she was attempting. He reached for his bag, his hands moving on autopilot—years of preparation guiding him even in the chaos. He rummaged through the contents until his fingers wrapped around a familiar handle.

The umbrella.

To anyone else, it would look like an ordinary, slightly oversized umbrella, but Mikhailis knew better. He had designed it himself—a compact device that could deploy into a makeshift parachute. He yanked it out of his bag, the metal shaft clinking as he struggled to hold onto it. The wind tore at his clothes, nearly ripping the umbrella from his hands as he prepared to activate it.

But before he could even push the button, he felt the sharp descent slow. The carriage seemed to shift, its rapid drop turning into a gentle descent, as if they were being cradled by invisible hands.

"What—" Mikhailis stammered, glancing at Elowen.

Her face was pale, her jaw set in concentration. She kept her arms outstretched, her eyes glowing even brighter, and Mikhailis realized what was happening. Somehow, she was manipulating the forest itself—guiding their fall, controlling their landing.

With a final sigh, the carriage settled onto the forest floor, the sudden stillness almost jarring after the chaos of the past few moments. Mikhailis felt his breath catch, his heart still pounding from the adrenaline as he took a moment to process what had just happened.

Slowly, he turned to Elowen, his eyes wide.

"Did we just—are we alive?"

Elowen let out a shaky breath, her glowing eyes returning to normal. She looked utterly exhausted but managed a small, triumphant smile.

"We're alive," she confirmed.

Mikhailis let out a laugh—part disbelief, part relief. He opened the carriage door, stepping out cautiously, his legs still feeling like jelly from the entire ordeal. Elowen followed him, her gaze scanning the surroundings as she tried to catch her breath.

"How… did you do that?" Mikhailis asked, still stunned.

Elowen pointed, and Mikhailis's gaze followed. There, in front of them, was an enormous tree, its bark dark and weathered, branches twisting skyward like skeletal fingers. One of those branches had elongated, forming a massive hand that had caught their carriage, guiding them safely to the ground.

Mikhailis blinked, awe washing over him.

"Did you… did you make that happen?"n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

Elowen nodded, her posture straightening as she put on her queenly demeanor.

"The forest is my ally," she said, her voice as composed as ever.

"I simply called upon it for help."

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Mikhailis couldn't help but be impressed. He gave her an appreciative look, a smile playing at his lips.

"That was incredible, Elowen. You saved us." He took a step closer, his expression earnest as he continued.

"Honestly, I've never seen anything like that. You were… amazing."

Elowen seemed to freeze for a moment, her regal mask cracking slightly. Her cheeks flushed, her lips twitching upwards into a wide, sheepish grin. It was such a sudden and unexpected transformation—from the composed queen to this almost bashful, proud version of herself—that Mikhailis found himself staring. It was… cute.

"That's what we call 'gap moe,' Mikhailis," Rodion's voice chirped in his ear, almost amused.

Mikhailis blinked, caught off guard.

"Gap what now?"

<Gap moe. It refers to the charm of someone exhibiting traits that seem at odds with their usual demeanor. For example, a typically serious queen suddenly showing a cute, unguarded side of herself.>

Mikhailis chuckled, shaking his head.

"Thanks for the cultural lesson, Rodion. I'm a weeb myself, 'Gap what now' means shut up, you commentator AI."

Elowen cleared her throat, her face still flushed but her expression returning to something more composed.

"I'm glad you… approve," she said, though the smile lingering on her lips made her seem far less formal.

Mikhailis grinned.

"I more than approve. I think I'm just going to follow you from now on. You seem to have a knack for not getting us killed."

Before Elowen could respond, Rodion's voice cut through the humor of the moment, its usual calm tinged with urgency.

<Mikhailis, I am detecting numerous heat signatures in the area surrounding your location.>

Mikhailis tensed, his senses sharpening.

"Heat signatures?"

<Yes. Multiple life forms, rapidly converging on your position. Based on thermal readings, it appears they're closing in at an alarming rate. Their size varies, but the heat signatures suggest numerous entities, possibly dozens or even hundreds. They are coordinating their movement—almost like a swarm. If we remain here much longer, evasion will become exponentially more difficult.

I'd estimate less than two minutes before they reach us in significant numbers, at which point a successful escape may become unlikely.>

Elowen's eyes widened, her gaze snapping to the dense forest surrounding them. The humor drained from her face, replaced with an expression of steely determination.

"We need to run!" she shouted, her voice echoing through the clearing. A rustling sound grew louder from the surrounding forest, like thousands of tiny feet skittering across the forest floor.

Mikhailis's heart pounded in his chest as he grabbed Elowen's arm.

"What are they?"

"Tanglebeetles," Elowen said, her voice tight with urgency.

"They're another endemic species of Silvarion Thalor. They're weak on their own, but they attack in swarms. We can't fight them all—we have to move, now!"