The changes ranged from both subtle and blatant.

The more subtle changes could be seen in the way the plants seemed to pulse with life. The trees were bulkier, their leaves greener and more vibrant. Their trunks soared into the sky, their immense girths so wide that Sam reckoned it would take at least twenty men to encircle one. Branches from different trees intertwined overhead, with vines draped between them, making it possible for even the most novice climber to move leisurely from tree to tree.

Yet, despite their closeness, the forest didn't feel claustrophobic. The space was open and inviting, and that seamless connection was likely why Sam hadn't noticed the transition in his surroundings. Everything felt... connected.

The more blatant changes, however, came from the menagerie of wildlife that flourished around them.

In a section where the dirt-covered ground had been replaced by the most alluring greenery Sam had ever seen, a small herd of golden deer grazed without a care. Above them, a shadow panther lay sprawled across a tree branch, its tail lazily hanging below, utterly uninterested in the feast grazing beneath.

It was then that Sam noticed the difference in the ambient mana. He couldn’t quite place it, but there was something distinct about the energy here—it almost had a personality.

The mana was all-encompassing, serene, and welcoming, like a warm embrace. It felt peaceful, cradling them as if they were held in a mother’s arms. In stark contrast to the cold, unforgiving wilderness they had trekked through earlier—a place where lowering your guard could mean death—this area was nurturing. It felt as though the land itself was doting on them, inviting them to rest, to breathe.

The group moved in harmony with the environment, careful not to disturb the peace. Even as the shadow panther and a few monkeys in the trees cast wary glances their way, they continued forward in quiet awe.

The younglings, especially, couldn't hide their wonder. Lena’s eyes sparkled as she watched a family of rabbits approach, their noses twitching curiously before they vanished into the tall grass.

As they pressed on, Sam’s ease abruptly shifted. A chill ran down his spine, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. A sharp voice cut through the air, severing the tranquil atmosphere.

In an instant, the sounds of the forest ceased. Every animal stilled, their gazes locked on the newcomers, and Sam became painfully aware of several terrifying presences—ones he hadn’t noticed before—bearing down on them.

"What brings you here, outsiders?" the voice demanded, its tone sharp and authoritative.

Sam’s eyes darted, trying to locate the speaker, but the voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

***

Neva could feel her companions tense as the voice rang out. Even Rose, the group's hypothetical leader, was unable to pinpoint its source. Neva glanced briefly at the young mage, understanding her frustration. Elves were still elves, after all. No matter the devastation they suffered during the Emperors’ War, they remained the kings among the beggars who survived. Worse still, Neva had her doubts about whether their losses were truly as catastrophic as the history books claimed.

Neva sighed inwardly. How I hate politicking.

Stepping forward, her sharp gaze swept the branches overhead. Wherever her eyes passed, the air shimmered, revealing figures clad in green robes and light bronze armor. Elves. Both men and women, their features as beautiful as the legends foretold, their pointed ears peeking through strands of silver and gold hair. They held finely crafted bows, each notched with an arrow humming with mana of various attributes, all trained on her party.

Neva counted at least twenty of them, their expressions shifting into astonishment as their cloaking techniques fell apart under her scrutiny.

Her eyes finally settled on the one who had spoken—a woman. Even cloaked, her aura was heavier, more substantial than the others'. Neva couldn’t help but chuckle to herself. An Arch Mage to greet me at the door? How nice.

With a quiet breath, Neva let a bit of her own restrained aura seep out. The attention of every elf immediately shifted. The air around her seemed to ripple as she stood, the elves now eyeing her vigilantly.

For all her disdain for political chicanery, Neva secretly enjoyed the expressions of so-called powerhouses when she slapped their faces.

Before the Arch Mage could respond, Neva gracefully curtsied and transmitted her voice directly into the elf's mind, cutting off any chance of retaliation. "Nevaeh Barak responds to the great guardian's summons, accompanied by the envoy of Aurum, Crown Prince William Ironborn."

The elf frowned as Neva’s voice echoed in her thoughts. With a fluid leap from her high perch, her hair danced elegantly in the wind that seemed to answer her call, slowing her descent. She touched the ground with the grace of a falling leaf and strode toward Neva, her steps as composed as her authority demanded.

Her displeasure only grew as she noticed Neva had not bowed, but had already risen from her curtsey. Irritation seeped into her voice. "Why do you not speak aloud?"

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Neva responded with another polite curtsy—neither servile nor presumptuous, just a gesture of simple courtesy. "Forgive my rudeness," she said, her mental voice calm and composed. "I suffer from a curse upon my soul, one that renders me unable to speak with my true voice."

The arch mage’s eyes narrowed briefly, contemplating this information before giving a curt nod. "My sympathies," she replied, though her tone was more diplomatic than sincere. Without further pause, she shifted to more formal matters.

"You have done well, Nevaeh of House Barak. I am Felaern of House Ivasaar." Her voice softened, yet retained its authority. "I trust your journey was not without difficulty?"

"Not at all, Magus Felaern," Neva replied with a polite smile.

Felaern sensed something beneath those words, a subtle meaning that eluded her, but she dismissed it quickly. Her attention shifted to the young boy standing nearby, who she presumed to be the crown prince.

Mild surprise flickered across her face when she noticed his black hair, a stark contrast to the fiery red mane the Iron Forge King was known for. Most likely from his mother’s genes. In every other respect, though, he was exactly what one would expect from the son of an era-defining genius.

A cursory scan of the boy’s mana and physique revealed a robust body-forging foundation—one that surpassed even some of their finest young talents. His mana circulation, even at such a young age, showed remarkable aptitude for magic.

"Impressive," she mused to herself. But… Her gaze flickered over his face, and a small sigh escaped her lips.

"I suppose no one is perfect," she muttered under her breath.

Neva didn’t miss the confusion of her companions, but her own expression remained one of quiet amusement. She was well aware of elven beauty standards—what humans considered attractive was often barely average by elven measures. So, when she heard the mage’s remark, she immediately understood.

Still, Neva knew that lingering too long on such amusement could lead to complications. Best to enjoy it in moderation. With some reluctance, she sent a voice transmission to the Arch Mage. "That is my son, Magus."

Felaern nearly stumbled.

Coughing awkwardly, Felaern composed herself, her graceful poise quickly returning as she scanned the group once more. Her gaze briefly flickered to Rose, but after assessing her power, she dismissed her without a second thought. Then, her eyes landed on Lena, and with a nearly imperceptible nod, acknowledged the young girl’s presence.

Finally, her attention settled on Will.

Felaern frowned. "He is the Crown Prince?" she asked, her voice betraying a hint of disbelief.

"Yes, Magus," Rose responded before Neva could, her tone calm yet respectful.

Felaern glanced at Neva for confirmation, and Neva gave a small nod, affirming Rose’s words.

But the elf's frown deepened.

Now that she looked at the boy, she could see the signs. His hair was fiery red, yes. But the boy’s strength... or lack thereof, was a most disconcerting matter. He was too weak.

She hadn’t expected him to be a prodigy or a force of nature at his age, but this? He hadn’t even stepped onto the ascension path yet. And when she compared him to the black-haired boy standing beside him, whose mana was already surging with potential, the contrast was stark and unsettling.

Bowing politely, Rose responded, "His governess, Magus."

"Not a very good one," Felaern muttered under her breath, the comment meant more for herself than anyone else. But the sting was still there, clear enough for all to hear.

Without giving Rose a chance to respond, Felaern’s attention shifted back to Neva. "I am to be your guide to Silvestria. Let us depart."

***

The elven city was a wonder of unimaginable proportions. Long before Sam and his party reached the gates, Silvestria’s magnificence loomed on the horizon. Palaces, perched atop towering trees that seemed to hold up the very sky, rose like a divine tapestry woven into the heavens. Bridges, impossibly high, stretched across the skies, linking the grand structures into one cohesive whole, despite each being rooted in separate trees.

Yet that was only the beginning.

As the gates swung open, the lower city unfolded like a verdant paradise. Here, modernity and nature danced together in harmony. Houses adorned with greenery lined the winding streets, their architecture blending seamlessly with the forest. A crystal-clear stream flowed through the heart of the city, circling the largest of the towering trees—the one Sam guessed held the palace atop its immense canopy.

Two cities, yet one. The upper and lower realms of Silvestria melded so naturally that it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

Sam was utterly awestruck. He wasn’t alone in his wonder—Will and Lena were equally captivated, their jaws nearly dropping as they took in the sheer grandeur and magnificence of Silvestria. Even Rose, ever composed, couldn't fully mask her amazement.

Felaern and her subordinates took no small pleasure in their reactions as they led the group along the winding streets of the elven city.

The local populace, equally curious, lined the streets to get a glimpse of the outsiders. Sam marveled at the elves—each one more beautiful than the last, their ethereal grace seemingly effortless. As the group walked across a wide bridge that overlooked the lower city, murmurs and whispers filled the air.

Lena, suddenly aware of the attention, made a conscious effort to school her expression, trying to adopt a dignified, almost regal front. Will followed suit, desperately trying to embody the royal bearing expected of him, shoulders squared and chin lifted.

But Sam? He had no such reservations.

The boy openly gawked at everything around him, his eyes wide with innocent wonder. He even waved enthusiastically to a small group of elven children who appeared to be around his age. Their laughter rang out, and even the elven adults couldn’t help but chuckle at the boy’s carefree attitude.

The group made their way through winding streets, passing gates that seemed to open effortlessly at the mere sight of Felaern and her escort. The murmurings and curious whispers of the city soon faded as they crossed a wide bridge, offering a final breathtaking view of the lower city they had traversed.

It had taken nearly two hours of walking, and now they stood before a large, multi-story building. Though its architectural style mirrored that of the grand structures in the lower city, this building radiated a nobler aura—a place clearly meant for dignitaries.

Felaern turned to face the group, her expression stern but composed. "This is the lodging Elder Evergreen has assigned to your party," she informed them. "Take the time to rest and freshen up. You will present yourselves before the council on the morrow."

The group, grateful for the reprieve, nodded in agreement. The doors to the lodging had already opened, and a servant stood waiting, poised and patient. They moved to enter when Felaern's voice cut through the air once more.

"A moment, Magus Nevaeh."

Neva turned, her gaze inquisitive, meeting Felaern’s.

"The council requests your presence upon arrival." The elf's words were firm, leaving no room for delay.

Neva paused for a moment, considering. Then, with a nod, she handed over responsibility for her son to Rose. "Take care of him," she instructed softly, and without further delay, Neva stepped away from the group, her presence calm and unhurried as she followed Felaern and her subordinates.