The world snapped back into focus with a nauseating lurch. The portal’s ozone tang faded, replaced by the scent of damp earth and pine. Before I could even catch my breath, arms coiled around me, pulling me into an embrace so tight it stole the air from my lungs. I didn’t need to see him. I knew the strength, the scent, the desperate hope in that hold. Cassius.

“Thalia,” he breathed, his voice a raw whisper against my hair. “You’re back.”

He pulled away abruptly, his hands gripping my shoulders as if to anchor me to this reality. His brow clenched, and the relief in his eyes was instantly eclipsed by a storm of concern. “What is this?” he murmured, his gaze sweeping over me. “It’s all over you… a stain on your spirit. Thalia, what happened?”

“I’m okay,” I said, the words feeling thin and hollow. “Just… shaken. I ran into Blair.”

“Blair?” The name was a shard of ice in the quiet glade. “In the Dungeon?”

I couldn’t meet his eyes. My gaze fell to the muddy hem of my shirt, shame coiling in my gut. “I couldn’t clear it. The creatures… there were too many. I set it ablaze, but she was there. I had to get out.”

A gentle finger guided my chin upward, forcing me to face the raw, unconditional love in his eyes. “Thalia,” Cassius said, his voice soft as moss. “Look at me. The Dungeon is just a place. You are not. You came back. That’s all that matters.” He managed a small, pained smile. “Whatever is broken, we’ll fix it together. I promise.”

My own resolve hardened, a new fire chasing away the shame. “There’s no time for anything else,” I agreed, my voice steadier now. “We will.”

The rustle of leaves announced an arrival. We turned to see Bhaera approaching, her movements as fluid as a river. A brilliant smile lit her face, crinkling the corners of her eyes.

“Thalia! Your light has returned to us,” she chimed, her voice like wind through the trees.

“It’s good to see you, Bhaera,” I replied, my attention caught by the burden she carried. It wasn’t a bundle; it was a promise, folded and gleaming in the dappled sunlight.

She followed my gaze, her smile widening with pride. “This is for you,” she said, her voice dropping to a reverent tone. She unfurled the oiled cloth, revealing a full set of elven armor. “Our finest smiths have not slept. They poured their hope into the forge. For our queen.”

Our queen. The words resonated deep within me, a chord of belonging I hadn’t known I was missing. I reached out, my fingers tracing the impossibly intricate filigree etched into the metal.

“It is forged of moonsilver,” Bhaera explained, holding it out to me. “Lighter than a whisper, stronger than a mountain’s heart. It will protect you.”

I had never seen anything so beautiful. The armor seemed to drink the light, shimmering with a soft, internal luminescence. Bhaera’s own armor was similar, though hers was accented with the deep blues of twilight. I took the proffered set, the metal cool and impossibly light in my hands. A real smile, bright and unforced, finally broke across my face.

“I’ll go get this on,” I said.

“We will see you soon, My Queen,” she replied with a graceful dip of her head, before turning and flowing back towards the main encampment.

Cassius’s warm gaze settled on me, a proud glint in his eyes. “She’s right,” he murmured. “They see their future. And mine.” He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. “Come. Let’s find somewhere quiet.”

He led me to a small grotto curtained by a weeping willow. I handed him the breastplate and pauldrons while I started with the leg plates. The greaves clasped around my shins with a satisfying click, the leaf-like carvings a testament to the smith’s artistry. The sabatons fitted over my boots as if they were forged around my own feet. With each piece that settled into place, I felt a layer of my old self sloughing away—the timid princess, the sacrificial lamb. That Thalia was gone, replaced by something colder, harder, and infinitely stronger. This was the armor of a queen, and I would be worthy of it.

Cassius helped me with the final pieces, his touch sure and gentle as he fastened the last buckle of the breastplate. He stepped back, his expression one of awe. “You are magnificent, Thalia.”

“Almost,” I corrected him. “One thing is missing.”

He tilted his head. “What?”

I lifted my wrist. The bracelet my mother had given me—the glamour that had hidden my heritage for so long. It was time to stop hiding. I unclasped it. A faint, silver shimmer washed over me, a cool tingle against my skin. The world seemed to sharpen, and from the edges of my hair, the slender points of my ears emerged.

A slow, brilliant smile spread across Cassius’s face. “You’re right,” he breathed. “Now you’re perfect.” He paused, his eyes twinkling. “Though, for the record, you always were.”

Heat bloomed on my cheeks, but I met his gaze with a newfound confidence. “Now,” I said, my voice ringing with the clarity of a steel bell. “Let’s go talk to our people.”

We emerged from the grotto and walked towards the heart of the clearing. Elves were gathered in tense clusters, their quiet conversations a low hum beneath the canopy. Some leaned against ancient trees, their faces grim; others, young and untested, nervously checked their bowstrings. As one, it seemed a silent signal passed through them. Heads turned. Conversations died. And every pair of eyes—some hopeful, some weary, all filled with a desperate fire—fell upon us.

Cassius stepped forward, his voice a commander’s call that cut through the tension. “Thalia has returned! She is ready to lead. We are ready to fight beside her!” He turned to me, his expression conveying his complete faith.

I took a deep breath, letting my gaze sweep over them, meeting as many eyes as I could. The moonsilver armor felt like a second skin.

“Thank you,” I began, my voice carrying to every corner of the clearing. “Thank you for the courage it took to stand here today. You were asked to choose between a quiet life and a righteous war. You chose this. But make no mistake—this is not a fight of elves against humans. This is a fight against the coming silence! A battle to stop the end of all things!”

A murmur rippled through the crowd. Their focus sharpened, their spines straightened.

“They seek to unmake the world, to silence the song of the forest and blot out the stars!” I continued, my voice rising with passion. “When the histories are written, they will speak of this day. They will speak of you—the saviors of this realm! My blood is your blood. My fate is tied to yours. Where you stand, I will stand. I will put my life on the line for our cause!”

“As will I!” a deep voice boomed from the crowd. I scanned the faces and found him—my uncle, Sylvan, his face a mask of grim determination.

His voice was the first stone of an avalanche. Another shouted his assent, then another, until the clearing roared with a single, unified promise. “WE ALL WILL!”

The sound washed over me, a wave of warmth and acceptance that solidified my resolve into something unbreakable. I raised a hand, and they quieted, their attention absolute.

“We move at dusk,” I declared. “We will slip through the town and take the castle. Our objective is singular: defeat the king and Blair. We cannot allow them to complete their ritual. We end this tonight, once and for all!”

Cassius’s voice rang out, a sharp, powerful cry. “For Aelindoria!”

The response was a thunderous roar that shook the very leaves on the trees. “FOR AELINDORIA!”

“And for Tirilla!” he yelled, thrusting a fist in the air.

“FOR TIRILLA!”

Cassius let the echo of their voices fade into the trees before speaking again, his tone softening. “Rest now. Find a moment of peace. And know,” he turned his warm gaze on me, then back to the crowd, “we are thankful for every one of you.”

The triumphant echoes of their voices still hung in the air, a testament to our unity.

Then, it was gone.

Not faded, but choked off in an instant. A profound, unnatural silence fell, so complete it was a pressure against the ears. The expressions of hope on their faces warped into masks of horror. An impossible cold bled into the air, a grave-chill that had nothing to do with the weather and everything to do with a fundamental wrongness seeping into the world.

Every hair on my body stood on end. A primal terror screamed at me to turn.

I spun around to face the city.

The sun in the afternoon sky was not setting; it was being erased, devoured by a spreading abyss of perfect, starless black.

Then came the sound. It was not one screech, but a thousand—a symphony of tearing metal and fractured souls that clawed its way into our bones.

A single, horrifying thought froze the blood in my veins.

They’ve already started.