I leaned against the tree, my body aching from the fight. The wind rustled through the leaves, yet my thoughts drifted elsewhere. I miss my gaming PC the adventure games, the thrill of boss fights. But now, I'm facing real boss fights, where a single mistake could mean death. No checkpoints. No second chances. And Anya… does she think about me? Or has she already moved on? My parents are they searching for me, fearing the worst? The weight of it all presses down on me. No matter how much I long for the past, there's no going back. This is my fate now, and I have to accept it.

Then, Balin turned to me and said we would be staying in Elderwood. The people were hosting a feast in our honor for saving them, and Elanor would be staying as well.

I nodded, pleased by the news. She seemed kind, and this would give me a chance to learn more about her.

Balin smiled knowingly before remarking that elves did not open up so easily.

I shook my head. That was not what I meant. I found her mysterious, and I wanted to understand her better.

He chuckled, telling me not to worry and suggesting that I simply ask her. With that, he stepped away, saying he would meet me at the feast.

I had always dreamed of attending a medieval feast the warmth of flickering torchlight, the rich aroma of roasted fruits and spiced bread, and the sweet melody of a lute drifting through the air. The rhythmic clapping and graceful movements of the dancers filled the hall with life, and for the first time in a long while, I felt at peace.

Smiling to myself, I made my way to the banquet table and poured a goblet of sweet mead. The golden liquid shimmered under the candlelight as I took a sip, savoring its honeyed warmth. As I turned, I noticed Elanor sitting alone, her gaze distant, lost in thought.

Curious, I approached and said, you seem distracted.

She blinked as if waking from a dream and shook her head. No, she said, the feast simply reminded her of home.

I hesitated before asking where her home was. For a moment, she remained silent, her expression unreadable. Then, with a faint smile, she simply replied, far from here.

I smiled, glancing around at the lively hall before turning back to Elanor. The feast is wonderful, isn’t it? Then, with a lighthearted tone, I asked if she would like to dance.

She blinked in surprise, then a small smile touched her lips. No human has ever asked me to dance before… she admitted, her voice quiet, almost uncertain.

I hesitated, puzzled by her words. Why? You are truly beautiful.

Her smile faded slightly, and she lowered her gaze. People don’t trust my kind. Her tone was softer now, as if stating an undeniable truth.

I met her eyes, unwavering. I trust you. You saved my life. Then, extending my hand once more, I asked again, will you dance with me?

For a moment, she said nothing. Her fingers brushed the rim of her goblet as if lost in thought. Then, at last, she met my gaze. You are different from the others, she murmured. A pause lingered between us before she slowly reached for my hand.

Just one dance, she said.

With the gentle rhythm of the flute and the enchanting melody of the lullaby, we danced together. As we moved in harmony, I looked at her and remarked that her name was a mystery to me, Ish Tirion, and asked what it meant.

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She held my gaze for a moment before replying that Ish Tirion was where she was born—the capital of Mytflon. A hint of longing flickered in her eyes, and for a brief moment, it seemed as if she was lost in a distant memory. Her voice softened slightly as she spoke, as though the name itself carried a weight only she could feel.

I guided her through a slow turn, our steps matching the rhythm of the music. As she returned to face me, I nodded, considering her words, then told her that it must be a place as remarkable as she was and asked if she missed it.

She hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly against mine before she looked away, her expression unreadable.

Of course, I miss it. It is a land of breathtaking beauty, rich in nature, with lush forests, thriving wildlife, and fertile soil. I often think about returning, but I cannot.

Why not?

I cannot tell you. I cannot tell anyone.

With that, she turned away and left the hall, disappearing into the night.

I followed her outside and found her standing alone beneath the moonlight, her expression lost in thought. Stepping closer, I spoke gently, asking if everything was all right. I hadn’t meant to offend her.

She shook her head. No, you didn’t. I’m sorry for leaving so abruptly.

I offered a reassuring smile. It’s okay. Sometimes, it’s hard to put our feelings into words.

She turned to me then, her gaze searching mine. After a brief silence, she spoke softly. I don’t know why, but I feel like I can trust you. There’s something different about you.

For a moment, I said nothing, letting her words settle between us. Then, with a small nod, I replied, I don’t know… but we both have our secrets. I can share mine if you’re willing to share yours.

She hesitated for a moment, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her sleeve. Her voice was quieter than before. Okay… but promise me you will protect my secret.

I met her gaze, unwavering. Of course, with my life. And you must promise the same.

She exhaled slowly, as if weighing her next words. I will… until my last breath.

A heavy silence followed. She glanced away, her hands clenching at her sides before she finally spoke. I am the daughter of Aegnor, the King of Mytflon. I’ve kept it a secret because I don’t want my father to find me. I don’t want the life of royalty.

She looked up at me then, determination burning in her eyes. I just want to be an adventurer, to help people, and to hunt the beasts that bring harm to others.

I watched her for a moment, admiration stirring within me. I really admire that you choose to live your life helping those who cannot help themselves. It’s inspiring. Not many would turn away from royalty for such a path.

She looked at me with warmth in her eyes, a hint of relief softening her expression. I'm really glad you understand me.

A brief silence passed between us, filled only by the distant sounds of the feast. Then, with a slight smile, she added, now it’s your turn.

The feast was alive with laughter and music, the warm glow of torches flickering against the stone walls. I was just speaking when a sudden hush fell over the crowd, as if the air itself had grown heavy. A strange rustling echoed from the trees beyond the hall, barely audible beneath the melody of the flute.

Elanor tensed beside me, her sharp eyes scanning the shadows. Then, before I could react, the night erupted into chaos. Arrows rained down upon us, striking the wooden tables and piercing the banners overhead. Shouts of panic filled the air as people scrambled for cover.

I pressed myself against the stone wall, my heart pounding. The voices shouting in the distance were unlike anything I had heard before—harsh, guttural, unfamiliar.

Elanor’s expression darkened. I know these words, she murmured. They are Velkynne.

Before we could move, figures emerged from the darkness, clad in thick furs and cloaks, their breath misting in the cold night air. Their bows remained drawn, sharp eyes glinting beneath their heavy hoods. They had the look of hunters—warriors hardened by the unforgiving snow-covered mountains they called home.

We were surrounded.

And worst of all—we had no weapons.

Elanor stepped forward, her voice firm yet calm as she attempted to negotiate. She said she knew their leader, Bathin, and that he is her friend.

A man in a fur cloak, gripping a low-quality iron sword, stepped forward. His expression was cold as he responded that they no longer followed Bathin. Their fight is now against Eredin.

Elanor’s gaze darkened with urgency. She told them they couldn’t fight Eredin blindly, that he is planning something far greater than they could imagine. He is bringing the darkness.

The group remained tense, their weapons still raised, uncertainty flickering in their eyes.

I said they couldn’t fight him alone and that we would help them.

The man turned to me, his eyes narrowing. He said I didn’t look like a Sentinari—I looked Velkynne. Then he asked why I had run away from my people.

I shook my head. He was mistaken. I wasn’t Velkynne.

His expression hardened. The warriors surrounding us—Velkynne themselves, tightened their grip on their weapons.

His voice was cold and certain: seize them all