After several days of riding through the snow and dense thicket into the heart of the forest, Alaric and his soldiers finally reached the beginning of the cobblestone path, which was surrounded by a grove of white trunks and golden-veined blue leaves. Beyond the path, nothing could be seen. The snow had blended into a thick fog, behind which shone a soft light, towards which they began to move without slowing down.

As they plunged deeper and deeper into that mystical whiteness, dazed by the soft scent emanating from the trees, to his ears came the exclamations of astonishment from his own men, many of whom were visiting the place for the first time.

It must have felt like a dream, and possibly it was, but he couldn't help thinking that he was stepping into the worst of his nightmares. Since Olivia had been born, he had tried to go there as little as possible, which was difficult, especially when the king insisted on sending him on official missions as his representative.

To such an extent had his dislike reached that, on several occasions, he had sent Eldrin in his place, a decision he now deeply regretted. He should never have allowed his grudge to prevent him from doing his duty. Now his daughter had become a victim of his stubbornness.

The horses slowed as the imposing silhouette of the stone wall began to appear in the distance, in the middle of which was the entrance to Serenity Glade, the elven city, capital of the Whispering Forest.

Two elven guardians, carrying spears and wearing green and silver robes, guarded an arch of intertwined white branches and carved flowers that made up the huge gate with blue and violet details. Seeing the riders, they immediately opened the gate, as they recognized the Guardian of the Circle among them.

As they crossed the gate, the voices of his men became more enthusiastic, until Cormac, also annoyed, ordered them to keep control, as that was considered disrespectful.

The same path, along which they had come, now forked into dozens of small streets amidst giant trees of delicate colors, as beautiful as those they had seen outside. The elves' homes, some small and simple, others huge and opulent, were distributed among the massive branches, on wooden platforms.

Although with some differences, they all followed the same pattern: white walls, wooden ceilings carved in the shape of leaves and large windows that let in natural light and through which their placid inhabitants could be observed immersed in domestic chores or simple contemplation.

In the elven city there was no place for noise. The elves watched the procession pass by without showing any reaction, not even confusion. It was rare to see any children, but there were some, perhaps two or three who had been born every half century apart. It was these who made him most nervous, for their childish little faces expressed the same insensitive air as the adults, and he found it hard to reconcile himself to the idea that they must probably be older than he was.

From an early age, Alaric had heard songs that mentioned the singing laughter of elves, but he had never been able to tell if it was true or a figment of the artist's imagination. He, who had crossed paths with them all his life, had never heard them laugh. Curving their lips upward, perhaps, but not much more.

They continued straight down the main street of Serenity Glade. They passed the central square, surrounded by trees with gleaming leaves, that blinded his eyes, statues of fine marble, and fountains whose intricate jets of water seemed to emit a sound similar to the clinking of pearls.

It was for these beauties that the artisans of the capital competed for special permits to visit the elven capital and try to emulate, unsuccessfully, of course, the millenary art of these nearly immortal beings.

Their crafts were centered on the perfection of the arts, as well as meditation and astronomical observation. Between households there were also schools of all kinds where one could see practicing, in public view, the dedicated apprentices, who, with meticulous movements, created the most impressive paintings, fabrics, jewelry, vessels, weapons, most of them decorative. By human standards, they could well be considered masters.

The soldiers could not help but stop in the middle of the road to see a round of elves, in flowing gowns despite the cold, dancing in a circle, as if floating like leaves driven by a gentle breeze to the sound of divine music of harps and flutes.

Everything they created seemed to have been touched by the hand of a deity, and many humans considered them so. There were many supporters of a new alliance with the elves that would mean the end of the borders between the two kingdoms. One of them was Eldrin. Others, suspicious, believed that the elves wanted to recover the territory that the first humans had taken from them.

There was another not minor problem. The elves detested the Blue Dragon, and did not acknowledge the Nymph Nemertyss, dedicating themselves to the cult of the forest and the Eternals. Therefore, they considered themselves superior, and their insertion into human society could lead to serious tensions between the different groups of believers.

But, for the moment, there was nothing to be alarmed about, since not even the three elven lords could agree on that point.

That is, unless...

His thoughts were interrupted when, after a turn among the trees, they came upon an open green space, in the center of which stood the Great Blue Willow, home of the elf who ruled the forest.

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The majestic tree, with its gigantic, twisted trunk soaring to the heavens, had nothing to envy even the most impressive castle built by humans.

From its highest branches, which Alaric once had the privilege of visiting, one could look out over the entire forest and even catch a glimpse of the peaks of the Roaring Mountains to the west and a blue strip of the Freedom Sea to the east.

The men in line moved forward along a narrow path amidst transparent pools covered with faintly colored flowers. They stopped on the esplanade of a wide stairway that ascended to the blue entrance door. From there, they saw two teenage-looking elves descending and walking towards them.

Alaric gestured with his head for Cormac to follow him, while his men were left resting, being attended by as many elven servants who began to stream out of the same door they crossed.

Despite its outward opulence, the interior of the Great Blue Willow was quite simple. They walked along a white corridor, where they could barely find a statue every few meters and small ornamental pots from which vines emerged and covered small portions of the walls.

On other occasions he had visited the large library and the astronomy tower, both containing the most indispensable objects for their function, unlike his castle, which over the decades had been filled with all kinds of objects, from trophies, ancient armor, bombastic paintings, that his predecessors had felt the need to accumulate. Added to that, of course, was the chaos caused by his own wizards.

The long corridor ended at a wide terrace. Right there, standing with her back to them, was Daephennya, Lady of the Whispering Forest, immersed in the contemplation of her vast garden, where long flower beds stretched up like a staircase between streams of water that fell like a gentle waterfall.

As if she didn't already know that they had arrived in her own city, Alaric thought mockingly.

Her long hair, flowing down her back like a blonde cascade covered with flowers, extended almost to the ground. She was wearing a simple, wide robe of the color of the sky, adorned with white leaf details.

As she slowly turned around to face them, Alaric, disgruntled, could not help but gasp for air.

Her beauty was overwhelming. It had to be, otherwise how else could such heartless perversity have been concealed? Her face looked as if it had been carved by the most skilled of artisan gods: pronounced cheekbones, a fine nose, delicately pointed ears, rosy cheeks and eyes the color of violets.

Her lips widened, without showing her teeth, revealing an air of tranquility behind which Alaric had learned to elucidate her mocking and calculating nature.

She curtsied.

“I bid you welcome, Count of Shadowrock. I hope your journey has been pleasant, and both your eyes and your spirit have been delighted by the beauty of our forest.”

Alaric reciprocated the gesture.

“I thank the Lady of the Whispering Forest for her words and return my respects.”

“Rarely have I had the pleasure of being surprised by a visit from His Excellency.”

Damn you.

Alaric took a deep breath before continuing.

“I apologize that this may cause you some uneasiness, but I have come with urgency to request His Grace's permission for my soldiers to conduct a search through the streets of your city.”

“Motive?”

Of course she knew.

“My daughter, Olivia, got lost a few days ago in the forest and I think she might have come here to seek refuge.”

“What a misfortune, poor child. Permission granted. We will always extend our help to the Guardian of the Circle and his descendants. May nothing torment you. The forest is always merciful to those in trouble.”

Alaric raised his hand, signaling Cormac to step out and begin the search.

“Sisters,” she spoke to the other two elves. “You may leave. I have official business with His Excellency.”

The two elves bowed and obeyed.

Seeing them walk away, Daephennya spoke again.

“Although I am sorry to tell you... you will not find her here.”

“If so, then I'm sure you know exactly where she is.”

“She's a very clever girl, she knows how to hide.”

“Don't talk as if you know her.”

“But I do know her, I've watched her since she was a child.”

“It's not the same thing.”

“Isn't it? I think my methods are more effective than those of humans. My eyes are everywhere.”

"Except for the Circle. The laws..."

“If you are so sure that I have broken a law of the Circle, then send a complaint to your king. Although that would be losing time, and humans don't have plenty. His Majesty will not want to gamble on a war against us. The knowledge we have far exceeds yours.”

“You speak as if you have everything under your thumb, but you remain confined to this forest.”

“I am patient, my lord, an innate attribute of elves, a product of our longevity, I admit. While humans take too long to acquire it and when they have, well...”

She looked him straight in the eyes, and, for a brief second, Alaric thought he saw a hint of nostalgia, although he could not tell if it was intentional.

She approached him and reached out her hand to stroke a lock of his hair with her fingertips.

“Your beautiful black hair is already turning gray.”

Alaric was about to remind her that it had been more than sixteen years, a sigh, for her, but he just walked away.

“As you see, I don't have as much time as you do. Tell me where she is, and I promise we'll be on good terms.”

“She's not here... but somewhere in the forest I haven't managed to identify.”

Alaric let out a bitter laugh.

“And you claim to have your eyes everywhere.”

“She's a smart girl, she'll be a great queen someday.”

“Never!”

The elf allowed herself to let out a sigh.

“You should feel reassured that I think that way. I would never risk losing sight of her. No matter how much you wish to avoid it, it does not serve my purposes that she has escaped from the castle. The only favor I can do for you now is to tell you to stop searching so pointlessly. I will find her and bring her back to you.”

“And how can I believe that?”

Daephennya extended her hand and, reluctantly, Alaric agreed to the request. He drew a dagger, placing the tip on her palm, and slashed the skin. Drops of blood fell to the ground. Then he did the same with his own, and they shook their bloody hands. An ace of light slipped between their fingers, and when they let go of each other the wounds had healed again without leaving marks.

In the sight of that act, it was very hard not to believe in her.

“Will you take her to me... or to the king?”, he asked.

“To you, of course. We don't want the king to find out about the animosity between the forest and the castle.”

Alaric stared at her without saying anything.

“Besides,” she continued. “I would also feel distressed if, because of me, you were to miss the Return of the Sirenians. As we both know, it is something very special for you.”

Trying to control his disgust, Alaric turned his back on her, and began to walk back down the endless corridor.