Del placed the pendant into Vita’s waiting palm. She accepted it carefully, her fingers tracing the smooth metal as if committing every curve and engraving to memory. Slowly, she turned it over, rubbing its surface with gentle reverence before lifting it to her lips and pressing a brief, solemn kiss upon it.

"The man…" she began softly, her voice edged with sorrow. "He would have been young. A bit shorter than you, with mousey hair." She hesitated, her eyes flickering with distant recollection. "He also had a mild limp, but you wouldn’t have seen that. He was getting over a sprained ankle."

Her fingers trembled slightly as she traced the edge of the pendant, the metal cool against her skin. She turned it over slowly, as if seeing it for the first time, despite knowing every detail by heart. A breath hitched in her throat, and her lips pressed into a thin line, but the grief still broke through in the shimmer of unshed tears pooling at the corners of her eyes.

"His name was Lucas," she continued, her tone thick with emotion. "I gave him this pendant when I accepted him as my apprentice two years ago." Her thumb brushed over the three interlocking circles etched into the surface, lingering there for a moment. "These three rings are the mark of a bonesetter—one who heals, who offers aid to those in need."

She swallowed, her throat working against the weight of memory. "He was… eager," she murmured, a distant smile ghosting across her lips, though it was burdened with sorrow. "Always asking questions, always pushing to learn more. He wanted to do more than just mix salves and bind wounds—he dreamed of understanding the deeper forces behind healing. I had to remind him constantly that no tincture, no remedy, no poultice could fix everything." She let out a small, shaky exhale. "That there are limits to what we can do."

Her fingers ghosted over the back of the pendant, brushing across the faint, delicate etchings there. "The inscription is in Archan," she murmured, her voice distant, as if speaking more to herself than to them. "It’s the script we use to guard our secrets… our recipes. This here is his name." Her fingers lingered on the letters, tracing them with a reverence that spoke of love as much as loss.

Del lowered his eyes, exhaling a slow breath at the weight of the revelation. "I’m sorry to bring you this news," he said gently.

Vita studied the pendant for a long moment, her thumb running absently across the engraving. The fire crackled softly in the silence that followed. When she finally spoke, her voice was steadier, but the sorrow hadn’t fully left it.

"It is better to hear the truth than to wonder on the possibilities," she said. "Lucas was out gathering plants—rare ones that only grow at higher altitudes. He was also studying the shifting of the seasons. I wouldn’t have realised he was missing for at least another month yet."

Her shoulders sagged slightly, and she let out a slow breath, the weight of her words settling over her like a thick cloak. She lifted the pendant once more, running her fingers over its worn surface, then closed her fist around it, holding it against her chest for a brief, fleeting moment—just long enough for the gesture to carry unspoken meaning.

"May I keep this?" she asked finally, looking up at Del, her voice soft but firm.

He gave a solemn nod. "Of course. It’s right that you do."

A hush settled over the room, thick with the weight of remembrance. Vita remained still, the pendant cradled in her palm, as if lost in a tide of memories only she could see. The only sound was the steady, rhythmic purring from Misty, curled up by the hearth, utterly undisturbed by the sombre mood in the room.

A gust of wind pressed against the wooden walls of the cottage, rattling the herb bundles strung above the stove. The flickering candlelight cast shifting shadows across the shelves, as if the room itself breathed in quiet mourning alongside her.

After a long pause, Vita exhaled, slow and measured, before slipping the pendant into the depths of one of her apron pockets. She gave her eyes a quick, discreet wipe and straightened her shoulders, smoothing out the fabric of her tunic as if shaking off the lingering grief.

"Enough of that," she said firmly. "I can relive memories and honour his loss another time. For now, is there anything else I can help you with?" A ghost of a smile touched her lips, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "I’m not being the most gracious of hosts."

Elara shook her head. "It’s completely understandable," she assured her. "If you need time alone, we can always return another day."

Vita took a steadying breath, her fingers drumming lightly against the arm of her chair. Then, with a small sigh, she waved a hand dismissively. "No, but thank you," she said. "It’s not often we see one of your kind in this region, and I can sense that something is troubling both of you."

Del exchanged a brief glance with Elara before leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. "The villagers' attitude towards elves seems… off," he said carefully. "But I get the feeling there’s more going on here than just old prejudice."

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Vita considered this for a moment before nodding. "Stonebridge has always been insular," she admitted, pushing herself up from her chair. She began gathering the empty cups, carrying them to the sink as she continued. "Though perhaps more so of late."

She set the dishes down and turned back to them, crossing her arms. "A long way back, in the early days of the village, there was trouble with raiding parties of elves. They believed the woods were theirs alone, that there was no place in them for humans. For generations, the skirmishes continued, bitter and bloody. It was a time of turmoil, of distrust, and loss on both sides." She exhaled, shaking her head slightly. "Eventually, peace was forged. As Gondowan society became more interwoven, the old feuds settled. That all happened many heavings ago; but…" She offered a wry smile. "In village life, memory is long, and often unbending."

Elara frowned slightly, absorbing the words with quiet contemplation.

Vita leaned back against the counter, her expression growing more thoughtful. "There’s been talk, more than usual, about the wizard in the hills," she said. "People say he’s stirring again."

Del arched a brow. "We already came across his activities but couldn’t be sure he was really alive after all those years, or someone was playing up to use the legends."

Vita gave him a knowing look. "Oh, he’s alive, all right. No one doubts that. He’s been up there as long as anyone can remember. Some say he was already an old man during the last heaving, and yet he hasn’t aged a day since. Magic does strange things to people."

Elara’s expression darkened slightly, and Del caught the faintest flicker of discomfort in her eyes. "And what’s he stirring for this time?" she asked, her voice measured.

"That’s the question, isn’t it?" Vita mused, crossing her arms. "A few traders passing through mentioned seeing cloaked figures in the woods, strangers moving through the trees at dusk. Some swear they’ve seen strange lights flickering near the old quarry. There’s tension in the air, the kind that sets people on edge." She shook her head. "If he’s been looking for something—or someone—no one knows why. And that’s what worries people the most."

Del exchanged a glance with Elara. They knew. The wizard was searching for an elf girl. And that meant, without a doubt, that Elara was still in danger.

Del drummed his fingers absently against his knee, mulling over her words. The village’s hostility towards outsiders, the long-held grudges, the rumours of a wizard many thought had died long ago… It all felt like pieces of a larger puzzle, one that was still missing too many parts to make sense of just yet.

But one thing was clear—whatever was happening in Stonebridge, it was deeper than mere superstition. And they were now caught right in the middle of it.

Vita regarded Elara with quiet thoughtfulness, her gaze steady, as if weighing something unseen. "There have also been stories of elves moving through the woods. As if searching for something… or someone. It’s possible that’s what’s stirred up the old fears and prejudices."

Del caught the subtle shift in Elara’s posture—the slight stiffening of her shoulders, the way her fingers tightened just a fraction on the fabric of her tunic. A reaction so small that most would have missed it, but he knew her well enough by now to recognise the unease lurking beneath her composed exterior.

"I hadn’t heard that," Elara said carefully, her voice even but carrying a hint of something guarded.

Vita simply nodded, unconcerned. "Rumours come and go," she said, brushing a stray curl from her face. "Some have meaning. Others are just wind through the leaves."

A quiet settled over the room, the only sound the soft hiss of the kettle still cooling on the stove. The warmth of the hearth made the space feel insulated from the outside world, and yet the conversation had brought with it a lingering sense of unease, as though unseen threads were beginning to pull together in ways none of them yet understood.

"I do know that the people of Stonebridge seem worried about something," Vita continued, glancing toward the window as if half-expecting to see the village beyond its glass. "I don’t know what, exactly. But take care while you’re here. Keep your ears and eyes open. Maybe you’ll figure it out, maybe nothing is happening at all, and I’m just an old woman mumbling ghost stories over an open fire."

Del let out a small chuckle. "Hardly that," he assured her. "But we’ll be careful all the same. And if you think of any way we might be able to help, just let us know. We’re staying at the Cock and Ball with Jake."

A flicker of amusement passed through Vita’s expression. "He’s a good man," she said, "but if you want a proper meal, ask his wife to prepare it. Jake knows his beer, not seasoning." A wry smile tugged at the corner of her lips before fading into something softer. "If you move on from here, do stop by before you leave. I’ll prepare some salves and remedies for your journey. The road can be harsh."

Elara’s face warmed with gratitude. "That’s very kind of you, Vita. Thank you."

Del gave Misty a mental nudge. Time to leave.

The ginger cat opened one eye, then stretched luxuriously, her claws extending before she settled back onto her paws with deliberate laziness. Nice human. Trust, she remarked idly.

Del arched a brow at her but said nothing.

They both thanked Vita once more for her time and advice. As Del turned to leave, he paused just before stepping onto the porch. "If you need anything while we’re here, don’t hesitate to call on us."

Vita inclined her head in silent appreciation. Then, just as they were about to step back into the cool evening air, she added, "Go and see Paolo, the village elder. If anyone knows what’s going on—if anything is—it’ll be him."

They gave a final nod before stepping outside, back onto the wooden porch. The fresh scent of the garden filled their lungs once more, though now it carried a strange weight, as if the very air had thickened with unanswered questions.

Del and Elara walked the narrow path through the carefully cultivated garden, their boots crunching softly against the earth. Beyond the low wooden fence, the darkening forest loomed, the distant sounds of the village beginning to weave back into their awareness.

Neither of them spoke immediately, but the conversation with Vita lingered between them, unspoken yet pressing, like a shift in the wind before a coming storm.

As they passed beneath the arching branches of the trees, heading back towards Stonebridge, Del exhaled slowly.

"Well," he murmured, "this just got a lot more interesting."