The sun bled out below the horizon, casting long, skeletal shadows across the path. The air, once cool against our skin, now carried a distinct chill that smelled of pine and damp, ancient earth. We pressed on along the dirt trail, Cassius and Paitelia a few paces ahead, their quiet conversation a murmur against the evening’s hush.

They had been chatting for most of the journey, but my mind was a world away. I kept a careful distance—close enough to remain with them, yet far enough to be alone with the venomous echo of Paitelia’s voice: “Why is a human traveling with you?”

The memory of her disdain was a fresh sting. Not all humans are bad. If she despises us so much, why trade with our villages? Was it desperation for our goods, or only for the whispers and rumors our kind carried? Her disgust had been a mask, peeled away the moment she learned the name of my mother. Did she value me, or only my bloodline?

My thoughts drifted to Cassius. She had claimed their people had lost hope, but was some small part of her still searching for their king? And if this was the true depth of elven bitterness, would they ever consent to join our fight? I wondered if Cassius truly knew. No, I thought, pushing the worry away like a physical thing. He would have told me. The last he’d known, the elves’ doors were still open to humans. Something profound must have changed.

As twilight deepened into a tapestry of indigo and violet, the first stars pricked the vastness above. Paitelia slowed, letting Cassius walk on until she fell into step beside me. I hugged my arms to my chest, a subconscious barrier, and stared fixedly at the rising moon that now guided our way with its silver light. The silence between us was a heavy cloak.

“Thalia,” she said, her voice unexpectedly soft.

I offered a noncommittal, “Hmm?”

“I am sorry,” she began, and the clarity of her tone held a sorrow I hadn’t anticipated. “For my greeting. There is no excuse for my bitterness. We elves have huddled in fear for so long, it has curdled in some of us. It was unworthy.”

I could feel her gaze on me, studying my profile, but I kept my silence. A part of me wanted to cling to my anger—it was a familiar shield.

“You carry a light within you, like Syanna did,” she continued quietly. “My clouded judgment almost made me miss it. You have your uncle’s spirit, too. Sylvan’s.”

At that, my head snapped toward her. In the dim light, she offered a small, sad smile. “He is a kind man, though he carries such determination in his eyes. Or… he used to.”

“Used to?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. “Is my uncle not with you?”

“Oh, he is with us. You will meet him soon.”

The last of my defensiveness dissolved into a wave of pure curiosity. “What is he like?”

“Hmmm,” she mused, her gaze turning inward. “Before… he was a summer storm. Full of brilliant energy, a booming laugh, and a fierce, protective love for your mother and…” She trailed off, and my mind instantly supplied the name of their lost friend, Tia. I wondered if she was thinking of her, too.

Paitelia spoke again, her voice softer still. “Your mother and uncle were inseparable. He is still kind, still caring… but the storm within him has passed. Now, a permanent fog seems to have settled. He keeps mostly to himself.”

I leaned in, my heart quickening its rhythm. “Do you know what happened? Why did my mother leave?”

“I fear none of us know the true reason,” Paitelia said, her voice dropping. “She left in the dead of night, unwilling to share the burden she carried. I can say this, though: just before she departed, she buried herself in research. She was seen less and less, no longer helping in the community… which was so unlike her.”

The words struck me with the force of a physical blow. My mother’s journal. The frantic entries about finding a way to bring me back. She wasn’t just grieving; she was researching. This had to be it.

Paitelia’s gentle voice pulled me from the revelation. “Do not worry, child. You will meet your uncle soon enough. I am sure he holds the answers you seek.”

Cassius must have sensed the shift in our conversation, for he glanced back, his brow furrowed with concern. He slowed his steps, falling in between us and breaking the intensity. He offered me a warm, reassuring smile that eased the knot in my chest. “It’s getting late. How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine,” I replied, the words feeling truer than they had all day.

He turned his gaze to Paitelia. “And you?”

“I am well, Cassius,” she answered, a weary note in her voice. “Though sleep sounds a welcome friend.”

“How much farther?” I asked, leaning to see around Cassius.

“Another hour or two, I would say,” Paitelia answered without breaking stride. “We have made good time.” A knowing look entered her eyes as she glanced between us. “I have walked many paths and seen many seasons. I know the look that passes between two people. Even when you were lost in your thoughts, Thalia, his eyes never strayed from you for long.”

Heat flooded my cheeks, and I was suddenly grateful for the concealing darkness. I fumbled for a response, but Cassius answered for us both, his voice clear and unwavering in the quiet of the night.

“She is the one.”

My breath hitched. The cave, the confession, the elven vow—that they love only once. Those four simple words carried the weight of a lifetime.

“Oh, my,” Paitelia breathed, her surprise melting into a genuine smile. A laugh escaped her, not mocking, but warm, like sunlight through leaves. “I had my suspicions. I am truly happy for you both.”

Desperate to shift the focus, I asked quickly, “And you? Have you found your one?”

Her expression softened into something gentle and content. “No, dear, I have not. Some of us live our entire lives and never do. I am perfectly content with that. It allows me to give my full attention to my craft.”

A comfortable silence settled over us then, and we walked on, the dirt path giving way to the soft press of grass beneath our feet. My mind wandered to my uncle, a man I never knew existed. Had my mother told him about me? Or had her secrets died with her? The thought of real family—not a tyrant who saw me as a tool, but true family—ignited a hope so fragile I was afraid to breathe on it. I just hope he will accept me.

“We are here,” Paitelia announced, her voice a confident blend of pride and reverence.

I looked up, my heart leaping, only to see an unremarkable stretch of ancient forest. Towering trees, thick undergrowth, but not a single light or structure. There was no sign of life besides the three of us and the chirping of crickets.

But then I felt it. The same pull I had experienced at Aelindoria, only magnified a hundredfold. It wasn’t a sound, but a vibration that hummed deep in my marrow. It was a silent chord that resonated through my entire being, a song my very bones seemed to recognize, beckoning me home.

I knew this was it.