The knock was so soft I thought it might be a dream—a hesitant rap against the wood, a ghost in the pre-dawn stillness. The room was a well of velvet dark, and my eyes felt weighted, sealed with the remnants of sleep.

“Thalia?” Cassius’s voice was a low murmur from the hallway, barely disturbing the quiet. “It’s me. May I come in?”

“You may,” I managed, the words a thick rasp in my throat.

I rolled onto my back, the linen sheets cool against my skin, as his silhouette slipped through the door, closing it with a faint click. He moved with a familiar, weightless grace.

“I know it’s unforgivably early,” he said, his voice a thread of sound weaving through the gloom. He came to my bed and sat on the edge. The mattress dipped, a gentle gravity pulling me slightly toward him. The air shifted, carrying the scent of him. “But there is something I want you to see.”

My eyes were finally surrendering the darkness, tracing the strong line of his jaw and the quiet intensity in his gaze. “Cassius, the sun isn’t even awake yet.”

“I know,” he replied, a hint of a smile in his tone. “That’s the point. We have to walk.”

I pushed myself up on my elbows. “A walk to where, exactly?”

“A favorite place of mine,” he promised, his expression unreadable in the shadows. “You’ll understand when we get there.”

A strange curiosity uncurled within me, chasing away the last vestiges of sleep. “Alright,” I sighed, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. The cool floor beneath my feet. “Give me a moment for my boots.”

He watched in silence as I fumbled with the laces, my fingers still clumsy and slow. When I was done, he rose and moved to the door, holding it open. “After you,” he murmured.

As I stepped past him into the silent hall, I glanced back. “You realize I’m walking blind. You’ll have to lead.”

A low chuckle escaped him. “I’m counting on it.” He stepped ahead, his presence a steady guide in the darkness. “And you have been here before.”

He led me down the corridor, our footsteps echoing softly, before stopping at a door I knew well.

“Here we are,” he said, turning the handle.

He pushed the door open, and my breath caught. His room. A question formed in my eyes as I looked at him.

“My balcony,” he clarified, already crossing the room toward the sweeping glass doors. “There’s a story I wanted to show you, not just tell you.” He slid the door open, and a gentle breeze ghosted into the room. “The view will speak for itself.”

I followed him out into the cool, pre-dawn air. It was alive, carrying the sweet, heavy scent of night-blooming jasmine and the damp promise of morning dew. Cassius was already leaning against the stone railing, his gaze fixed on the slumbering town below. I joined him, the stone cool and solid under my hands.

From this vantage, the world unfolded. The town’s lights were soft, flickering embers in the deep blue twilight. The homes were huddled together like sleeping animals, but I knew they were filled with life, with breath, with dreams. A quiet joy settled in my chest at the thought. The ancient trees that lined the streets swayed, their leaves whispering secrets to the wind. Just then, a single pinprick of gold ignited in a downstairs window. A moment later, a figure emerged, a lone sentinel standing in the street, looking up not at us, but at the horizon.

“Watch,” Cassius’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. He gestured with his chin toward the serrated edge of the distant forest. “Just there.”

My gaze followed his. One by one, as if taking a final bow, the town lights began to extinguish. And as the last one faded, the first sliver of the sun breached the horizon.

It wasn’t a sudden burst, but a slow, reverent bleed of color. The sky ignited, a painter’s palette of rose and liquid gold washing over the deep indigo. The light spilled over the rooftops, setting the windows ablaze with reflected fire and chasing the long shadows from the streets.

“It’s beautiful,” I breathed, the words feeling inadequate.

“It is,” he agreed, his eyes not on the sunrise, but on the awakening town. “When I was a boy, I chose this room for this very view. It sounds foolish, I know.”

“It doesn’t sound foolish at all,” I said, turning to offer him a small, genuine smile. “And now I get to see it with you. It was worth losing sleep over.”

The smile that touched his lips was real, unguarded. “I’m glad you think so.”

I turned back to the panorama, watching the light reclaim the world. “It feels like a new day is washing away the shadows of yesterday.” I closed my eyes, savoring the fragile peace, knowing it was a fleeting gift. “I hope the elves feel it, too,” I added, my voice barely a whisper. “After everything… this must be a difficult homecoming.”

My eyes found the lone elf in the street below, who was now being joined by others, emerging from their homes to greet the dawn.

“They’re strong, Cassius,” I said, my voice finding its conviction. I nodded toward the street. “Hopeful. They believe in you.”

“And in you,” he added, his tone firm, unwavering.

“Hope is what we need,” I said, my gaze sweeping over the town before drifting to the distant lands beyond. “All of us. The people of Tirilla… they are still my people. I have to protect them too. No one else will.”

He turned fully to me then, his expression serious, his voice soft but absolute. “Thalia. We will protect them. Together.”

A profound sense of resolve settled over me, a quiet fire in my chest. “Yes,” I agreed. “We will.”

A comfortable peace settled between us, more than just silence. Side by side, a silent promise passing between us, we joined the figures below in watching the new day arrive.

A sharp rap at the door shattered the moment. We exchanged a look before stepping back into the room.

“It is me, Lorien!” a muffled, slightly strained voice called from the hall.

“Come in,” Cassius called.

“Ah, could you perhaps get the door?” the voice replied. “My hands appear to be… occupied.”

Cassius opened the door to reveal Lorien, one of the elders, buried behind a precarious, teetering stack of books and scrolls. For an elder, he had a surprisingly boyish face, framed by deep brown hair, his green eyes flecked with gold. As he shuffled inside, a thick scroll slid from the top of the pile and landed with a soft thud on the floor.

I bent and retrieved it. “Here,” I said, offering it to him. “Do you need some help with those?”

“Oh, would you?” he sighed, a wave of relief washing over his face. “Thank you, that would be a blessing.”

I carefully lifted the top half of the stack from his arms as he nodded toward the pile now in Cassius’s hands. “You left these in the tent,” he explained. “The histories of the Shadow’s approach. I thought you’d need them.”

“Thank you, Lorien,” Cassius said, moving to set the collection on his wide oak desk. “I appreciate you bringing them.”

“Not a problem at all! I know their importance.” Lorien lingered near the door, his gaze fixed on Cassius with an earnest, wide-eyed intensity that seemed to radiate a palpable desire to be involved. Cassius, though his back was turned, must have felt the weight of that hopeful stare.

Finally, he looked over his shoulder, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Lorien.”

“Yes?” Lorien replied, practically vibrating with anticipation.

A small chuckle escaped Cassius. “Would you care to help us go through these?”

“Yes!” Lorien beamed. “I would like that very much.” He hurried to the desk, his energy brightening the room. “Let me just get them organized.”

As he began sorting the scrolls, his elbow nudged one from the pile. It rolled a few inches, partially unfurling to reveal characters in a language I recognized as ancient. Yet, as I looked at it, an inexplicable pull tugged at my mind. The script didn’t just look familiar; it seemed to sing to a part of me I didn’t know existed.

“What is this one?” I asked, pointing.

Before he could answer, I reached out and picked it up. The ancient words swam into focus, strangely easy to decipher. I read the first line under my breath.

“The city must be sealed. K’tthar’s shadow lengthens…”

A hand gently but firmly plucked the scroll from my grasp. I looked up to see Lorien, his previous cheerfulness vanished, replaced by a gravity that chilled the air.

“We will get to that one in due course,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

He was right. Everything here was vital. A cold dread washed over me, and my heart began to hammer against my ribs. In the back of my mind, the vivid, terrible memory of K’tthar’s voice was a venomous whisper, clawing its way to the surface.

My hands trembled slightly as I looked at the piles of parchment and leather. These were not just histories or forgotten lore.