The morning air in Valendell was crisp and alive with motion. Stalls were being set up, vendors calling to one another, and the golden sunlight stretched across the marble streets like molten glass.

On the way to the city's main square, Edward told Aeris everything—his journey beyond Valendell, the small elven village hidden at the forest's edge, the deceitful shopkeeper, the ambush, and everything else he and Elarien had uncovered.

Aeris listened without a word, her steps light and measured beside him. Occasionally, she'd glance his way, but her face remained unreadable.

When he mentioned the Crimson Oath, her expression darkened ever so slightly.

By the time he finished, they had nearly reached the heart of the city—the grand fountain at the main square where crystalline water shimmered beneath beams of morning light.

A long silence lingered between them. Then Aeris spoke.

"So that means you'll leave again?"

Edward exhaled softly. "Most likely."

He didn't want to give her a certain answer. There was a chance the King would refuse their request, but he knew the importance of this matter and doubted that would be the case.

Aeris stopped walking. The soft rustle of her dress brushed against the cobblestones. He turned to face her just as she lifted her gaze.

"Then…" she began, her tone quieter now, "can I join you?"

Edward hesitated.

He had thought about it before—about convincing the king to let Aeris and Seraphine join their expedition to the Nightveil Mountains. It made sense, he trusted them both more than most. But after what happened last night with Seraphine's pact mark… he doubted it was safe to bring either of them along.

"I need you to stay here," he said finally.

Her lips parted slightly. "Why?"

He could hear the disappointment in her voice. She looked away, eyes falling to the ground.

"I need you to keep an eye on Seraphine."

At that, her head snapped up, eyes narrowing. "What happened to her?"

Edward glanced around before answering, lowering his voice. "Her pact mark moved. I think she's starting to suffer backlash for resisting her contract. She's… unstable right now. I don't know how long before it worsens."

Aeris frowned, thinking. "I see."

She looked down again, arms crossing loosely over her chest. There was more she wanted to say—he could tell. He knew she didn't like being left behind. She had always wanted to prove herself, to be seen as more than the quiet girl who trailed behind others.

But she didn't protest.

After a brief silence, she nodded. "I understand."

Edward smiled faintly. "Thank you, Aeris."

He meant it. She had always been the one person he could always depend on.

But just as he turned to leave, her voice stopped him again.

"But when you return…"

He paused and looked over his shoulder.

"You owe me a favor," she said, her tone lighter now but her eyes still serious.

"A favor?" Edward repeated.

Aeris nodded. "Yes. Anything I ask."

He rubbed the back of his neck, a little unsure. "That sounds… dangerous."

She smiled—a real, soft smile that caught him off guard. "You'll live."

Edward couldn't help but chuckle. "Alright then. I'll owe you a favor."

"Good," she said, satisfaction lacing her tone. She turned, her pastel-blue dress swaying gently as she began to walk away. But after a few steps, she stopped again and glanced back.

"Where is Seraphine, anyway?"

"Oh," Edward paused, realizing how that might sound. "In my chambers."

Aeris's gaze sharpened instantly. Her expression turned flat, unreadable, but her eyes said everything.

"…Right," she said finally, then turned on her heel and walked off without another word.

Edward sighed quietly. "That went pretty well," he muttered under his breath.

He adjusted his cloak and walked toward the royal palace.

The road leading to it was lined with towering marble columns and flowing banners marked with the sigil of Valendell—a golden leaf over a silver moon. The capital's beauty was always breathtaking, but its elegance carried an edge of authority that reminded him he didn't belong.

He reached the palace steps, but before he could ascend, two guards crossed their spears in front of him.

"Be gone, human," one of them barked.

Edward straightened. "I'm here to see Elarien."

The guards exchanged a look. The taller one smirked. "You? A human meeting Lady Elarien? Have you lost—"

"Edward," a voice called from above.

Both guards froze immediately.

Elarien descended the staircase with the grace of a falling petal. Her silken mesh gown glimmered faintly in the light, the soft fabric swaying with each step. The guards bowed their heads as she passed, silent now.

"Let him through," she commanded, her tone calm but absolute.

Edward stepped forward, fighting the urge to smile at the guards' stunned faces.

"I was just about to come fetch you," Elarien said, her voice soft but composed.

Edward inclined his head. "You mentioned seeking audience with the king?"

She nodded. "Yes. Come. He has agreed to see us."

Together, they climbed the palace steps and entered through the grand marble doors. The interior shimmered with a faint silver hue—the enchantments woven into the walls reflecting every movement of light. Elven attendants moved quietly through the halls, their gazes occasionally drifting toward Edward, some curious, others wary.

Elarien led him through a winding series of corridors until they arrived at a tall set of ornate double doors, carved with intricate depictions of elven history—scenes of war, peace, and rebirth.

They waited for a while.

Elarien spoke briefly with a servant, who vanished behind the doors. Minutes turned into nearly an hour.

The waiting chamber was filled with hushed murmurs and sidelong glances, most directed at Edward. He ignored them, though the weight of their stares was hard to miss.

Finally, one of the royal guards stepped out. "You may enter," he said.

The throne room was vast—so vast that even their footsteps echoed faintly as they approached. The high ceilings arched like the ribs of an ancient cathedral, and the air smelled faintly of burning incense and old magic.

At the far end, two thrones stood upon a dais of white stone. The larger throne, gilded in gold and ivory, held the King of Valendell—a tall, regal elf with silver hair flowing down his shoulders. His gaze was sharp, piercing, as though it could cut through pretense.

Beside him sat the Queen, her beauty cold and serene. Her pale green eyes observed Edward with distant curiosity.

Elarien approached first, moving with practiced grace before dropping to one knee.

Edward followed her lead, though unsure whether a human should bow or kneel in elven court. He compromised, bowing deeply beside her.

The silence stretched. The king's eyes lingered on them for a while.

Finally, the king's voice broke through the chamber, deep and steady.

"Rise."

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