Incubus Living In A World Of Superpower Users

The moss beneath their feet was thick and soft, like walking on memory foam. It didn't feel wild or overgrown.

Instead, it felt like it had been shaped over time—tended to, not by hands, but by something older and steadier.

Every step they took caused faint pulses of green and gold to shimmer under the surface, reacting gently to their presence.

Then they saw them.

Roots.

Massive ones.

Not fully exposed above the ground, but close enough that the moss was raised in arches and soft ridges around them.

They curved like the bones of something ancient lying just beneath the surface, sleeping. Faint light—golden and calm—ran through them like veins.

The glow wasn't sharp or flickering. It didn't draw attention with movement.

It just was.

The energy they gave off wasn't aggressive.

It wasn't loud.

But it was there. Constant. Balanced. Steady.

Thalynae walked to the center of the clearing and turned to face them.

"You're not looking at a regular tree," she said. "This is a root. A living anchor. One of the hidden limbs of the Life Tree."

She motioned slowly to the space around them. The moss. The glowing ridges. The light.

"This place is older than Astralis. Older than the Fall. Older than any city still standing. Few places like this remain—where bloodlines still echo at full strength."

No one replied.

They didn't need to.

Thalynae continued, her tone steady, each word landing without rush.

"You've all heard of elven lineages—Highborn, Light, Dark, Elemental. But most don't understand how those lineages began."

She stepped lightly between them as she spoke, walking the moss as if she knew it by feel.

"There are five core noble branches. High Elves—keepers of law, memory, and diplomacy. Dark Elves—guardians of order, balance, and shadow.

And the Celestial lines—Space Elves, Time Elves, Light Elves—all tied to roots like this one, bound by ancestral memory and alignment."

She stopped beside Nyssara.

"Your family descends from the Dark Elves," she said. "Not cursed. Not lower. You are the ones who accepted the role others turned away from—the watchers, the binders, the ones who hold the line when no one else will."

Then she turned to the twins.

"You two carry Light Elf resonance," she said softly. "But more than that. The test yesterday confirmed it.

Your affinity markers are over ninety-eight percent compatible. That kind of alignment only happens when the Tree itself marks you."

She stepped back and looked at all three of them again.

"You weren't born like this by coincidence. You were chosen."

The silence stretched for a moment.

Then Thalynae lifted her hand and pointed toward one of the softly glowing roots near her feet.

"Kneel. Both hands flat on the moss."

None of them hesitated. They dropped to their knees and pressed their palms down.

The moment they did, the air changed.

Not loud. Not flashy. Just a deep, steady pressure, like the ground itself was letting out a slow breath.

It wasn't something they heard with their ears—it was something they felt. In their chest. In their ribs. Like a quiet pulse, they hadn't noticed until now.

No one spoke.

No one moved.

They just stayed there, letting it sink in.

And even when the feeling eased, it didn't really go away.

It stayed. Not heavy. Not light. Just… there. Settled inside them, like something had recognized them and decided to stay quiet for now.

Thalynae's eyes lingered on them, calm but focused.

"The Tree doesn't hand things out," she said quietly. "It remembers who you are."

She walked slowly back toward the center of the clearing. When she turned again, her face was unreadable—not cold, not warm. Just clear. Focused. Grounded.

"Most elves live and die without ever hearing its voice," she said. "Not because the Tree is silent—but because they never listen closely enough."

She lifted her hand again, fingers spread.

"But those who carry deep resonance—like the three of you—this place responds to you."

She let the silence carry that weight.

Then she began to move her hand slowly. Deliberate, precise.

Lines of faint golden light began to gather in the air around her palm. Not in sparks or bursts, but in soft, drifting strands. They curved naturally, floating like silk or smoke, quiet and clean.

No system messages. No alerts.

Just resonance.

She turned her wrist.

The strands floated toward them.

One reached Evelyn.

Another drifted to Everly.

The third curled toward Nyssara.

None of them pulled back.None of them moved.

The strands touched their chests softly and then wrapped gently around their arms—not tight, not binding, just tracing them, connecting.

The threads tugged, lightly.

And the space shifted.

Not the air, not the light—but something inside them.

Evelyn's breath caught—not from fear, but from recognition. Her eyes lifted toward the trees, then slowly lowered to the roots beneath her knees.

It was as if the world had started humming, and she could finally hear the tone.

Everly blinked. Her chest felt full—not like pressure, but like something long silent had just woken up inside her. Her heart didn't pound. It simply expanded. Softly. Quietly.

Nyssara stayed still. Her face didn't change much. But her hand relaxed. The tightness in her fingers eased.

Her shoulders dropped just slightly. Her jaw loosened. She wasn't resisting anymore. She was listening.

The strands remained for a moment.

Then Thalynae turned her wrist once more.

The golden threads unraveled and drifted back toward her. They returned to her palm and dissolved into the air like mist fading in sunlight.

She lowered her hand slowly.

"What you felt just now," she said, "wasn't a spell. It wasn't drawn from the world."

She stepped forward again.

"It was the world. Remembering you."

She let that sink in for a second before continuing.

"You will learn structure. Form. Power. But more importantly, you'll learn something most never do."

She looked at each of them.

"You will learn to anchor yourselves."

She paused.

"Elves aren't strong because we fight. We're strong because we harmonize. We don't bend the world to our will. We listen to it. Move with it. Let it move through us."

She turned back to Nyssara.

"Many believe Dark Elves are tied to conflict—that they're shaped by war and shadow. But that's not the truth.

Your strength is empathy. You're made to notice what others miss. That's where your power hides."

Nyssara didn't speak. But her eyes softened. Just enough.

Then Thalynae turned to Evelyn.