Edward and Arthur exchanged a quick glance as they followed Elarien through the narrow, glowing streets. Neither spoke a word. There was a stillness in the air—a kind of living quiet that felt different from the silence of human cities.

The air was cool, but not cold. A soft breeze brushed through the city, carrying with it the scent of leaves and earth. Lanterns hung from arching branches, glowing with faint blue light, illuminating paths that twisted between living trees and stone bridges.

The walk to the palace took longer than Edward expected, but the streets were nearly empty. No voices echoed through the night, no drunken laughter, no distant footsteps. Only the faint hum of magic which seemed to breathe through the entire city.

"It's a nice change, isn't it?" Arthur said, his tone light.

"It is," Edward admitted, his gaze wandering over the rooftops woven into the forest canopy.

Elarien glanced back briefly at their words, her silver hair glinting under the lantern light. Her brow rose for an instant—curiosity or confusion, Edward couldn't tell, but she didn't say anything. Whatever thoughts flickered behind those calm eyes vanished as quickly as they appeared.

They continued in silence until the path curved upward and opened to a clearing.

The palace stood at the far end, and for a moment Edward simply stared.

It wasn't like the castles of men—cold stone and iron gates. The elven palace was tall, yet it carried no sense of menace. It looked alive, shaped rather than built. Pale marble walls intertwined with the roots of a massive tree that spiralled around the structure, its trunk disappearing into the sky above. Its glowing leaves swayed gently in the wind, casting a faint green light over the courtyard. The gates themselves were formed from thick branches that curved inward, parting as if by will alone when Elarien approached.

Inside, the halls were vast and filled with a quiet resonance. Water ran through shallow channels carved into the floor, glimmering faintly. Everything smelled of sap and flowers and something ancient that Edward couldn't name.

They took several turns through high, curved corridors before Elarien led them through one last set of arching doors.

"The royal dining hall," she said softly.

Edward stepped inside.

A massive table stretched the length of the room, carved from a single piece of smooth, white wood. Crystal chandeliers hung from branches that grew straight out of the ceiling, their light soft and golden. Around the table sat a dozen elves, their gazes sharp but unreadable. Some stood, some conversed in low tones.

And among them—Aeris and Seraphine.

Both turned as they entered, and Edward froze for a moment.

They were no longer wearing their usual attire. Aeris wore a dress of soft green fabric, similar in style to Elarien's—elegant and flowing, wrapping around her form with restrained grace. The colour brought out the pale shimmer in her eyes, making her look almost regal.

Seraphine's attire was nearly identical, though somehow far more daring. The thin, meshed fabric clung to her in a way that caught the light, and the cutouts along her sides and thighs revealed smooth, olive skin that seemed to glow against the pale fabric. It wasn't indecent, but it drew attention all the same.

She grinned when she saw him. "Took you long enough," she mouthed, though no sound left her lips.

Edward barely had time to return the gesture before Elarien stopped beside the table and gestured to two empty seats near the centre.

"Your places have been prepared."

Arthur gave a small nod of thanks and followed her lead, sitting in the place designated for him. Edward sat beside him, the faint sound of running water filling the space around them.

He glanced down the long table—dozens of elves, each dressed in silks and embroidered robes, their expressions unreadable. But three chairs, larger and more ornate than the rest, remained empty at the far end.

Then, just as silence settled across the room, a sudden knock came from the door opposite the one they had entered through.

Everyone at the table rose to their feet, and not wanting to stand out, Edward did the same.

The great doors opened, and three figures stepped forward.

The first—a tall elven man, long silver hair flowing past his shoulders, a crown of pale metal and emerald leaves resting upon his head. His eyes were green, deep and calm, yet sharp enough to command silence without effort.

Beside him walked a woman—slender, poised, and wearing a gown of pale green that shimmered like morning dew. A circlet, thin as a branch, adorned her brow. Her features mirrored the king's so perfectly that Edward wondered if the elves were sculpted rather than born.

And the third—Arthur's betrothed. The princess.

Her hair was pale gold rather than silver, her eyes a muted blue that carried no warmth. She moved with grace, but her gaze passed over Arthur as though he were nothing more than another guest.

"His Majesty, King Thalanor of Valendell," announced a servant, his voice ringing through the chamber. "And Her Grace, Queen Isilwen."

The elves bowed. Arthur followed the gesture, placing his hand over his chest in a formal greeting. Edward mirrored him, watching closely what the prince does.

The king smiled faintly. "Please, be seated."

The dinner began soon after.

Servants appeared in silence, carrying trays of dishes Edward couldn't name—thin slices of something translucent, steaming bowls filled with glowing fruit, and a drink that shimmered with faint silver motes. The taste was unfamiliar, light and strange, but not unpleasant.

Conversation began softly at first, mostly between Arthur and the King.

"It brings me joy to see the bond between our kingdoms renewed," Thalanor said, his tone warm yet deliberate. "How is your father, the King of Men?"

Arthur hesitated for a moment before answering, his polite smile never fading. "He is well, Your Majesty. Still burdened by matters of state, but strong as ever."

"Good," Thalanor said, nodding slowly. "It has been… many years since we last spoke."

Edward listened in silence, the hum of low elven voices filling the background. Aeris caught his eye once or twice, offering small, polite smiles, while Seraphine looked increasingly bored in the formal setting, looking around as if planning an escape.

The King and Arthur's discussion continued—light pleasantries circling topics that meant nothing. Edward had a feeling both were avoiding the matters that truly needed to be said.

Then—

BANG! BANG!

The sharp sound broke through the quiet chatter.

All heads turned toward the door from which the sound came.

A soldier burst through, his armour scuffed, his breath ragged. He dropped to one knee, struggling for words.

"Your Majesty—" he gasped between breaths. "Elandir… Elandir's dead!"

Gasps filled the hall, followed by a sudden silence.

Every face turned toward the king.

Thalanor's expression froze, his faint smile fading like a candle snuffed by the wind.

Elarien rose from her seat so sharply that her chair scraped against the floor. "What?"

But the soldier only shook his head, his arms trembling, "We found him outside the western quarter. There is no sign of who did it..."

The air seemed to grow heavier, and though Elarien's face remained calm, Edward could feel a quiet fury burning beneath her still features.

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