The cloaked figure was a fleeting shadow, nearly swallowed by the stone maw of the gate, but our pounding feet were devouring the distance. They slipped past the guard with the ease of a whisper, the man’s gaze sliding right over them as if they were nothing more than a trick of the light. We followed in their wake, bursting through the gate and into the open expanse beyond the walls.

“Wait! Stop!” I shouted, my voice raw and thin in the sudden quiet.

The figure risked a glance over their shoulder—a movement so swift it was more an impression of turning than the act itself, revealing nothing. Then, they broke into a dead sprint. Their legs churned, pulling away from us with desperate speed, their destination a clearing that bled into the dark, waiting woods.

“Enough,” Cassius rumbled, his voice a low growl of finality. He planted his feet, his stance unshakeable, and the air around him grew heavy. His voice boomed, no longer just sound but a physical force. “Tela cresteanta rel!” The words were imbued with his mana, and the very atmosphere seemed to warp and solidify around them.

The fleeing figure halted so abruptly their cloak flared out, then settled. Their frantic momentum vanished as if they’d slammed into a wall of unbreakable glass. They stood frozen, a statue with its back to us.

“Cassius,” I panted, leaning over with my hands on my knees. “What was that?”

“A request,” he said, his breathing perfectly even. “For them to stop.”

We closed the remaining distance, my boots crunching on the dry earth. My mind raced. Why are they just standing there? Is it the spell’s hold, or is there a flicker of recognition, a reason to obey that name?

When we were only a few steps away, Cassius spoke again, his tone shifting to something more formal, laced with an ancient authority. “Turn and face us, please. Let us see who you are.”

For a long, tense moment, there was only the sound of the wind sighing through the grass. Then, from beneath the hood, a stream of fluid, musical Elven spilled into the air. Cassius replied in the same melodic tongue. The exchange was brief, a sharp volley of questions and answers. When it concluded, the figure finally, slowly, turned. A veil of shadow, a simple but potent illusion, still clung to their features, obscuring them in a personal twilight.

Delicate, pale fingers rose to the cowl of the cloak. With a careful, almost reverent tug, she pulled the hood back. The clinging shadow dissolved like mist in the sun, revealing a woman of striking, ageless beauty. Her hair was the color of dark ink, a stark contrast to her alabaster skin. Her light brown eyes, flecked with shimmering gold, remained fixed on the ground. But it was the graceful, tapered points of her ears that stole my breath. An elf. Here.

My head snapped around, my eyes darting across the clearing, searching the tree line for any sign of ambush. Seeing nothing, I turned back, my heart hammering against my ribs as I instinctively took my place a few paces behind Cassius.

His voice was kind, yet it carried a familiar, demanding authority that made her look up. Her wide, tear-filled eyes met his. With a soft rustle of cloth, Cassius pulled back his own hood, revealing himself completely.

Recognition struck her like a physical blow. A wave of shock, raw and overwhelming, buckled her knees. As if the strings holding her upright had been severed, all strength fled her body and she collapsed onto the soft grass, her shoulders shaking with unrestrained sobs.

“You’re alive,” she whispered, the words fractured by disbelief. “Vorian… he always said you would return. But I… I didn’t believe it.” She looked up at him, her face a mess of tears and dawning hope. “None of us did. And yet, you are here.”

“Yes, Paitelia,” Cassius said softly, his own voice laced with an ancient sorrow. “I am back. And I am sorry it has taken me so long.”

Her ragged breathing began to steady. With a newfound purpose that seemed to straighten her spine, she pushed herself to her knees. She placed her palms flat on the ground before her, bowing until her forehead touched the cool, damp grass. “My king,” she breathed into the earth, her voice muffled but clear. “King Cassius.”

“Paitelia, rise,” he insisted gently. “You know I have no fondness for such ceremony between us.”

“Please,” came her muffled reply. “Just one moment more.”

He granted it to her, a heavy, weighted silence hanging between them. I could feel the history in that silence, a chasm of lost years. Finally, he spoke again, his voice firm but not unkind. “That is enough. Rise, Paitelia.”

She obeyed, getting to her feet with a fluid grace that was betrayed by her trembling hands. Her gaze roamed his face, studying every line and shadow as if committing a miracle to memory. “I cannot fathom it. Where have you been? What happened to you?”

“A long story, and one for another time,” Cassius said, his tone shifting, regaining a sliver of its earlier command. “Right now, I have questions of my own. Why are our people in hiding? And why are you forced to sell our goods to humans in secret?”

“I sell my jewelry to the humans,” Paitelia explained, her composure returning as she spoke of her purpose. “It allows me to listen for rumors and earn coin for things we cannot make or grow. As for why we are in hiding… that is a story you should hear from the elders.”

“Very well,” Cassius acknowledged. Paitelia’s gaze then shifted from her king and landed squarely on me. Her expression hardened, the soft awe replaced by a look as sharp as chipped flint.

“And why is a human traveling with you?” The question was an accusation, laced with a sneer that made me flinch.

Cassius’s brow furrowed, a flicker of displeasure crossing his features at her open hostility. She trades with humans but despises them? The hypocrisy left a bitter taste in my mouth.

“She is not merely a human,” Cassius corrected, his tone firm, leaving no room for argument. “This is Thalia. She is the daughter of Syanna.”

The change was breathtaking. Paitelia froze, the venom draining from her expression as if it had never been there. Her gaze, now clouded with guilt, softened as she stepped closer. In two swift, silent steps, she closed the distance between us, her animosity transformed into a look of gentle, reverent awe.

“You have her eyes,” she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears. “You look just like her. How is she? How is your mother?”

The abrupt shift from contempt to adoration was dizzying. The words felt like stones in my throat. “My mother… she is gone.”

A soft, wounded gasp escaped Paitelia’s lips. “Oh. Oh, my dear, I am so deeply sorry. She was… a light. A truly wonderful person.” Taking a half-step back, she gave us space, her own grief a sudden, tangible cloud around her. We now stood in a small, tense circle of shared loss.

“Thank you,” I said quietly. “It was some time ago.” I met Cassius’s steady gaze for a moment, drawing strength from it, before turning back to the elven woman. “We need to see the others. Can you take us?”

Paitelia looked to Cassius, seeking his authority. He gave a single, decisive nod.

“Of course,” she said, her professional resolve returning. “I will lead the way. We can speak more on the journey.” She offered a small, self-deprecating smile. “I don’t have the mana to teleport us—my focus is my craft, not grand spellcasting—and I doubt either of you knows the path.”

“That is of no concern,” Cassius assured her.

“How far is it?” I asked.

Paitelia glanced at the sun, which was beginning its slow descent toward the horizon. “If we leave now, we should arrive late tonight.”

“Good,” Cassius said, his voice imbued with the quiet power of a king reclaiming his purpose. “Lead us.”