As the daylight began to fade and the streets of the city emptied, Eldric made his way home. The cold air bit at his skin, urging him to move faster as shopkeepers hurried to close up for the night. Eventually, the city gave way to the familiar edge of the woodlands. The sun had fully set by then, leaving only the full moon to cast its cold, white light over the swaying trees. They rustled gently as he passed, a welcome of sorts, though the solitude felt heavier tonight. At last, Eldric reached his cottage, fumbling with the door in the dark before slipping inside.

The warm glow of the crackling fireplace greeted him, illuminating the cozy but cluttered room. The mantle above the fire was lined with herbs and small trinkets, souvenirs from his time gathering outside. Shelves lined the walls, stuffed with books on magic, herbal lore, and jars of dried plants and potions. In the center stood a rustic wooden table, mismatched chairs circling it. On the largest chair sat his mother, gazing into the fire, her shawl pulled tightly around her.

She hadn’t noticed him come in.

“Mama, I’m home,” Eldric said softly, careful not to startle her.

Her head snapped up, eyes sharp for a moment, but then her expression softened. “Oh, Eldric. You’re finally here!”

Eldric managed a smile, though guilt gnawed at him. How long had she been waiting for him? He quietly took off his shoes and approached the table, sitting beside her. For a while, they sat in silence, the only sound coming from the crackling fire.

“So, how was your day today?” she asked, her voice quiet but steady.

Eldric had almost forgotten about the incident with Nyx and the nightshade until now. It rushed back to him, but he quickly pushed it aside. “Just a normal day, like the rest,” he lied, his voice strained.

His mother frowned, though it was fleeting. “Don’t worry, Eldric. One day, something exciting will happen. I can feel it.” She smiled, her voice filled with a hope that didn’t reach her eyes. He sighed inwardly, but only nodded.

“And you, Mama?” he asked, knowing what her answer would be. “What did you do today?”

She seemed to think deeply, her brow furrowed. “Well, when I woke up, you were already gone,” she pouted, “but I saw the breakfast you left for me. Don’t worry, I ate it all.” She smiled, but her voice was distant, as if the memory was hard to grasp. “Then I sat by the fire... waiting for you to come home. I waited and waited, Eldric. And finally, you’re here.” Her eyes welled up with tears, and Eldric felt the weight of it all settle heavier on his shoulders.

She reached out and touched his shoulder, and Eldric flinched—just barely, but enough. She didn’t notice. Sometimes, in her confusion, she had lashed out at him, mistaking him for a stranger or a threat. He knew she couldn’t help it, but the fear still lingered.

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Suddenly, Eldric remembered. He jumped to his feet, startling her. “What is it?” she asked, her voice filled with concern.

He hurried over to a shelf, pulling down a small jar that held a leaf suspended in silver liquid. “Mama, you forgot to take your medicine again.” His voice was gentle, but firm.

She shifted uneasily, her hands gripping her shawl tighter. “Oh, Eldric, you know I don’t like it…”

“I know,” he said, bringing the jar to her side. “But you need it.” He stood beside her, offering it with a patience he had learned over years. The medicine wouldn't cure her—nothing would—but it would slow the illness, keep it from taking her so quickly.

Reluctantly, she drank the liquid, her face twisting in discomfort. Eldric watched her, his mind elsewhere, wondering how long she had left. Healer elves had come before, but even they had admitted there was no cure. He thought of Elara. She seemed powerful. Perhaps...

When his mother finished, Eldric took the leaf from the jar and gently smoothed it across her forehead. She wept silently, as she always did when he performed this ritual. She said it didn’t hurt, but something about it stirred something deep in her. He never knew why.

After a few moments, he stopped and asked, “Have you eaten dinner yet, Mama?”

She gasped suddenly, her expression shifting. “Oh! I completely forgot!” She moved to stand, stumbling toward the kitchen.

“It’s okay,” Eldric said quickly, intercepting her. “I’ll make it. Just sit by the fire.”

He set to work, chopping vegetables as his mind drifted back to Nyx. Who was she, really? What was that plant? Kael had called her a dark elf, but what did that mean? He had never encountered one before, never heard much about them besides hushed whispers.

Once dinner—roast potatoes with carrots and peas—was ready, Eldric sat back down with his mother. As they ate, his mind kept returning to the nightshade. He knew he shouldn’t ask, but he had to know.

“Mama,” he began, trying to sound casual, “have you heard of a plant called nightshade?”

To his surprise, she stopped chewing, her eyes narrowing. The firelight flickered over her face, and for a moment, he saw something in her expression he hadn’t seen in years—a sharpness, a clarity.

“That’s a poisonous plant, Eldric,” she said, her voice lowering. “Why are you asking about it?”

Eldric swallowed, unsure how much to reveal. “I... I saw one today. In the central garden.”

His mother’s expression softened, though her eyes still held that glimmer of understanding. “Oh, the central garden,” she murmured. “What a lovely place.” She paused, her gaze drifting toward the fire. “But nightshade... they stopped growing over 800 years ago. Died out on their own. It was sad to see them go, but it’s the natural order of things.”

Eldric’s heart raced. How could they have vanished 800 years ago, and yet he saw one today?

“Could I... could I look through Grandmama’s journal?” he asked cautiously. “To see if there are other plants I don’t know about?”

His mother chuckled, shaking her head. “Of course. I’m surprised you haven’t gone snooping through it already! It’s not like I’d know.” She smiled at him, but her eyes were distant again, retreating back into herself.

Eldric sighed softly. Each time he thought she was coming back to him, that she was still in there somewhere, it slipped away again. And every time, it hurt just as much.

Tomorrow, he decided, he would search through his grandmother’s journal. He needed to understand this mystery—how nightshades could still be growing. And after that, he had another question to answer.

What is a dark elf?