The carriage rolled across the plains of Collins.

The spring in the North was brief yet fervent, with dandelions, bluebells, periwinkles, veronica, and daisies blooming under the horses' hooves. Narya often had to steer around the flowers she favored, leaving a meandering trail on the smooth terrain.

"If you had followed the road as I said, we would already be there," someone grumbled from behind her.

"I like these flowers!" Narya called back, not turning her head.

"You could see the same flowers by following the road!"

"It's not the same at all," Narya asserted, continuing to navigate the carriage through the winding path.

"You'll bounce Isty awake," the voice behind her cautioned.

Narya huffed, "He won't complain like you do."

Despite her words, she guided the horses back onto a straighter course.

Elen Carvo straightened his back, rubbing the soreness away, watching his daughter's figure with resignation and contentment. The wind was picking up, her thick black curls billowing over her shoulders, reminding him of his wife in her youth.

He had lost her too soon, and at her death, he hadn't been by her side.

He was grateful Narya was as cheerful and forgiving as her mother. She had forgiven him, even though he could never forgive himself.

Beside him, Isty stirred, truly awake now.

The golden-haired, blue-eyed youth sat up, looking around with a touch of bewilderment.

"We're nearly there, Isty. This is the Collins Plain," Carvo patted the boy's back. "Are you hungry? I'm a bit peckish."

"We'll make it before dinner!" Narya called against the wind. "Elen Carvo, eat your apple!"

Elen sighed, producing two apples and handing one to Isty, "Be careful not to bite your own face. You never know when this cart might take a sudden turn."

Isty accepted the apple with a smile, biting into it as the wind tousled his soft blond hair, making him look more spirited than usual.

He couldn't remember when he had fallen asleep. He had thought he couldn't possibly sleep on the way home.

Yes, home. After nearly six years, he was about to return to a place where he could see... at least the Thirk Castle.

That night, six years ago, he had left his brother and followed Elen Carvo to his hidden home among the rolling southern hills. For a long while, he would sit for hours at the window, waiting for the one who had promised to come for him soon.

He didn't dislike Carvo, and he even liked Narya very much—she was straightforward, candid, her black curls reminding him a little of Lydia. But no one could replace Scott Thirk, his only kin.

And when the news of the war's end came, Scott did not appear.

Elen Carvo left for a while and returned exhausted, alone, dodging Isty's expectant gaze.

The next day he told Isty, "He's missing."

The elder man chose his words carefully, "During the last battle for Stonebridge. Many saw him, but when the fight ended, he was gone. No one found his body. He might still be alive, injured, or taken to safety... We will find him."

The boy looked at him for a long time, as if not quite understanding, then nodded, murmuring softly, "He's still alive."

His certainty was so profound it almost made Elen wonder if he truly knew something.

Then he saw tears drop onto the boy's clasped hands.

Narya, pretending to be busy nearby, dropped what she was holding and came over, embracing the boy's head almost roughly, "Of course, he's alive. Elen said we'd find him, and he always keeps his promises." She glared at her father, "Elen Carvo, swear it."

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But her face showed pleading, and in her reddened eyes, the brown irises were moist.

Elen raised a hand solemnly, "I swear. We'll find your brother, Isty."

From then on, Isty spent more and more time sleeping. Sometimes he would just collapse and fall into a deep slumber for days. Elen worried it was because a human form could not contain a dragon's power indefinitely, and one day it might lead to an unstoppable disaster. But other than that, the boy was normal, his eyes always blue, no scales on his face, and though he looked a bit thin, he never fell ill.

He just became quieter and quieter with each passing year, his silence becoming a source of concern.

Time passed. When Isty was fifteen, news of Delian's death reached the North. The tormented man had succumbed to a long-untreatable illness, which perhaps was a relief for him.

"We're moving to Carnack; Delian left everything to me," Elen announced during dinner one day. He knew there was no one left in or around Thirk Castle who knew Isty or him, and being closer to the Collins Temple made it easier for him to gather information, and it might be better for Isty.

They moved every few years, and Narya just shrugged indifferently, sternly eyeing Isty's plate, "You haven't even eaten half!"

Isty opened his mouth to show he was still eating. Once he would have politely maintained etiquette, but now he cared less and less, leaving Elen unsure whether to be pleased.

"Carnack," Elen repeated, "Isty, don't you remember?"

Isty gave him a puzzled look, idly poking at the roasted chicken breast on his plate.

"It's a village near Thirk Castle."

The knife clattered heavily on the plate.

"Are we going back to Thirk?" Isty looked at Elen, hope filling his eyes.

"Just to Carnack," Elen cleared his throat awkwardly, "The castle is now... occupied by others, strangers. Until we find Scott, it wouldn't be appropriate for us to stay there."

The youth's head drooped.

"If you don't want to go..." Elen ventured.

"I do," Isty answered quickly, then cautiously looked at him, "Is it alright? I've never been to Carnack... Scott only took me to Eckwood Forest."

Elen nodded, "Carnack is just on the other side of the forest." Scott had obviously protected Isty well—perhaps too well.

Isty pushed his plate away, his appetite gone.

"Are we leaving tomorrow?" he asked.

...

They set off three days later, riding northward against the Veynz River, nearly crossing the whole continent. In Vesa City, they switched to a carriage, buying everything Narya thought a new home would need, then entered the expansive Collins Plain.

This fertile plain, dotted with lakes, had been a sacred land of the water goddess Nea for ages, forbidden for grazing and hunting. Amidst the sea of flowers, only herds of animals and the occasional knight guarding the sacred land were seen.

Elen recognized one of them, who nodded slightly in greeting.

"Your brother was once one of them," Elen told Isty. The boy's eyes lit up, and the unfamiliar plain suddenly felt familiar and welcoming.

He was excited for a while but soon fell asleep again, only to be jolted awake by the bumpy ride.

As Isty munched on his apple, Elen peered ahead; he could just make out the small mountain rising up ahead, its rocky surface stark against the lush vegetation at its base.

"That way," he pointed out to his daughter, "There's a road at the foot of the mountain that leads through the forest."

"That mountain looks quite... bare," Narya remarked in surprise, "Has it always been like this?"

No.

Elen silently answered in his heart. He would never tell his daughter the story of that mountain.

Though it was a good story.

...

The arrival of the Carvo family went largely unnoticed in the village. The villagers naturally accepted Elen as "the poor lame brother of the carpenter Delian, who came to inherit his legacy—of course, also a carpenter." They even received numerous gifts, as a skilled carpenter had always been a favored figure in the village, and deciding how to return the kind gestures kept Narya bustling and pretending to be annoyed for several days.

"You're my son, Elen Delian's son, Isty Delian, and Narya Delian is your sister, understand?" Elen reiterated to Isty. He had told the children before they left, and Isty hesitated, the surname was his last connection to his brother, and he didn't want to let it go, but eventually, he reluctantly nodded, easing Elen's mind.

He was confident no one here recognized them, but one could never be too cautious.

"I like being called 'sister'," Narya said happily.

"Sister," Isty called her naturally, as if he had done so a thousand times before, without any hint of reluctance.

Narya's eyebrows lifted.

"We're having roast lamb tonight!" she declared.

Isty smiled. For the first time, Elen thought his smile bore a slight resemblance to that half-elf priest, who, on his less gloomy days, smiled just like that, a mix of elven innocence and human cunning.

It took only about ten days for Narya to conquer the village with her hearty laughter and delectable treats. Northerners weren't adept at the delicate foods of the South, but that didn't mean they didn't enjoy them. Soon, the Delian household was receiving unexpected guests, and Carvo, returning from his carpentry work, was the last to know.

"Thirk Castle sent someone saying their lady wishes to taste my treats," Narya stood in the center of the house, her posture proud, "They said I could bring my brother along."

Elen was silent for a moment, uncertain if it was a good idea, but he couldn't refuse Isty's hopeful gaze. Isty had been disappointed to realize you couldn't actually see Thirk Castle from the village, obscured by the forest.

"Alright then," he finally agreed, "Just remember..."

"Not to let anyone know who I am," Isty raised his hand in an oath.

"Not to cause any trouble," Narya promised.

Elen nodded gravely, but he had a feeling that things definitely wouldn't go as smoothly as planned.