Chapter 12- The Deal

Dawn broke, casting a gentle light over the village as the morning dew settled on the plants, glistening like tiny pearls. Alarielle slowly opened her eyes, blinking against the soft glow. She felt warmth against her, and it took a moment for her to realize where she was—her head rested on Zār's shoulder, and on her own shoulder, Ravareth's head lay, his breathing slow and even as he slept.

She glanced down and saw Malrek curled up on Ravareth's lap, also fast asleep, his small hands clinging to Ravareth's cloak. They looked so peaceful, as if, for a brief moment, the world had granted them a reprieve from the pain they had endured.

Alarielle felt a strange sense of calm, though she couldn't quite remember how she had ended up this way. The last thing she recalled was sitting beside Ravareth, the two of them sharing their grief in the quiet night. After that, everything felt hazy, as if she had drifted into a dreamlike state.

In her mind, she saw flashes—images of Zār sitting next to her, his presence solid and reassuring. She remembered him leaning close, concern etched in his eyes, and then a flicker of something else—he smiled at her, a rare, gentle smile that made her heart ache with its sincerity. She remembered the way his dimples appeared, softening his usually stern expression, and how it seemed to light up his entire face. For a brief moment, it felt like she had seen a side of him no one else did.

She could almost see it, the way his silver eyes had widened, the unspoken emotion in his gaze as if he hadn't expected her to acknowledge him, to smile back. It felt distant, like a memory slipping away with the dawn,

But now, as she carefully lifted her head from Zār's shoulder, he stirred slightly and opened his eyes. For a moment, they were blank with sleep, but then they focused on her, and his expression quickly returned to its usual composed, neutral state.

"Morning," he murmured, his voice low and rough from sleep. There was no hint of the smile she thought she had seen last night, as if he was pretending it hadn't happened at all.

"Morning," she replied softly, a small smile of her own forming despite his guarded demeanor.

Zār glanced down at Ravareth and Malrek, then back at Alarielle. "They needed to rest," he said, as if it explained everything. "You all did."

She nodded, a lump forming in her throat. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He didn't respond right away, his expression carefully neutral, as if the warmth she had seen the night before was just a trick of her imagination. But for a brief moment, his hand brushed against hers, a small, fleeting gesture.

Zār stood up, brushing off the dew that had settled on his cloak, and gently shook Ravareth and Malrek awake. "We need to leave," he said, his tone firm, leaving no room for argument. Ravareth blinked sleepily, his expression still heavy with the grief of the night before, while Malrek clung to his older brother, confused but obedient.

Alarielle hesitated, her hands twisting in her lap. "I… I can't," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Zār's gaze snapped to her, sharp and unwavering, and she felt the weight of his attention, as if he could see through her hesitation to the fear that lay beneath.

"And why is that?" he asked, his voice measured, though there was an edge to it. Ravareth and Malrek, still waking up, turned their eyes to her, waiting for her answer.

Alarielle swallowed, feeling the pressure of their stares. She had never told anyone this—never dared to voice it out loud. But after everything they had been through, she felt a strange compulsion to share, as if hiding it now would only be a burden. "I have to do something," she began, her voice trembling. "My mother was killed by Drakyrids. And I've been running from them ever since."

The admission hung heavy in the air, and she saw Ravareth's eyes widen slightly, while Malrek's face softened with sympathy. Zār 's expression didn't change, but his gaze remained locked on her, unyielding, as if urging her to continue.

"There are… creatures that worked for the king," she added, her voice growing steadier as she spoke. "They followed me, hunted me, and I don't know why. But my goal… my goal is to find them. To find all of them. And make them pay. I want revenge."

Ravareth looked taken aback, his usual stoic expression faltering. "Revenge?" he echoed, almost incredulous. "But… how? You—"

Zār interrupted him, stepping closer, his eyes narrowing as he studied her. "How do you plan to get revenge when you can barely control your magic?" he asked, his tone blunt. "And how can you have two types of magic?"

Alarielle's breath hitched, and she looked away, the truth of his words stinging. "I don't know," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't have the answers. I cant give you answers to questions I, myself don't understand yet, One of the magic… it's not even mine." She didn't mention Promedius directly, but the presence of that other magic felt like a constant, hidden shadow in her life.

Zār was silent for a moment, his eyes searching hers, as if weighing her words. Then, after a long pause, he spoke. "I'll make you a deal," he said, his voice low but firm, cutting through the morning quiet. "I'll train you to harness your magic. Teach you how to use it, how to control it—so that you can fulfill your goal of revenge."

Alarielle blinked, surprise flickering across her face. "You… would do that?"

"But in exchange," he continued, his tone leaving no room for doubt, "you have to help me with a mission of my own. Something I've been working on for a long time. I need someone with your abilities, even if they're unrefined."

Ravareth glanced between them, confusion and curiosity in his eyes. "What kind of mission?" he asked, but Zār 's gaze remained on Alarielle.

"I'm not going to explain it now," Zār said, his eyes never leaving hers. "But if you accept, you'll know soon enough. The choice is yours, Alarielle. You want to stop running and learn how to fight back? This is your chance. But it won't be easy, and I won't be gentle."

Alarielle hesitated, her mind reeling from the sudden offer. The idea of finally learning to control her power, of no longer being at the mercy of her own magic, was tempting. But what was Zār asking of her in return? What kind of mission would require her to use her abilities?

She looked into Zār's eyes, searching for any sign of deceit, but all she saw was a calm, steely resolve. It was clear that whatever he needed, he believed she could do it. And for the first time in a long while, she felt a glimmer of hope—a chance to stop being afraid, to take control of her life.

"Alright," she said, her voice steady as she met his gaze. "I accept. I'll help you with your mission… if you teach me how to control my magic."

Zār's lips twitched, almost as if he wanted to smile, but he held it back, keeping his expression neutral. "Good. Then we start now. Gather your things. We're leaving."

"Wait," Alarielle called, her voice cutting through the early morning air. "Why didn't you ask more about my past? You were hellbent on finding out who I was before."

Zār paused mid-step, glancing back over his shoulder. His silver eyes gleamed with a quiet intensity, but there was something different in his gaze now—something more calculating. "That was before you saved my brother," he said, his voice calm but edged with something unreadable. "I will still get my answers from you."

He let the words linger in the air for a moment, and then added with a slight tilt of his head, "But I have other interesting means to do that planned now."

Alarielle's stomach tightened at the implication in his words, and she felt a flicker of unease. Zār wasn't one to let go of something so easily, and the fact that he hadn't pressed her for more details now only made her more certain that he had something else in mind—something she couldn't yet see.

"Interesting means?" she echoed, a wary note creeping into her voice.

"Don't worry, I won't bite you or bind you," Zār said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Unless you ask me to." His voice was light, almost teasing, and for a moment, a half-crooked smile appeared on his face, dimples deepening on his cheeks.

"Don't worry, I won't bite you or bind you," Zār said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Unless you ask me to." His voice was light, almost teasing, and for a moment, a half-crooked smile appeared on his face, dimples deepening on his cheeks.

Alarielle stood there, dumbfounded, staring at his face as if she'd just seen a ghost. She completely forgot how to breathe. It wasn't a dream—he had smiled at her last night, and he was smiling now. And he was… beautiful when he did, in a way she hadn't expected. The smile did strange things to her, sending her heart racing, her cheeks warming with a blush she couldn't control.

Zār didn't linger, turning away as if nothing had happened, his steps steady as he began walking again. The morning light caught his hair, making him appear almost serene, as if he hadn't just thrown her world off balance with a few teasing words.

Alarielle was still standing there, processing what had just happened, when a sharp sound echoed beside her—a slap, light but startling. "Either the world is ending, I'm dying, or I'm high," Ravareth said, his tone bewildered as he stared at Zār's retreating figure. "Did Zār just crack a joke and smile?"

He glanced over at Malrek, whose mouth was hanging open in shock. "Mal, I think I'm hallucinating," Ravareth continued, rubbing the spot on his cheek where he'd slapped himself.

Malrek just nodded slowly, still staring after Zār. "I… I think we both are," he mumbled, eyes wide.

Alarielle's head snapped to Ravareth and Malrek, and for a moment, she felt an odd sense of relief—at least she wasn't the only one who thought Zār's unexpected behavior was… well, unexpected. "No," she said, her voice shaky but tinged with a hint of incredulous laughter. "It wasn't a hallucination. He… he actually smiled."

Ravareth looked at her, then back at Zār, who was already several steps ahead, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. "Well, I'll be damned," Ravareth muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "What's next, is he going to start handing out flowers and singing?"

Alarielle managed a small, wry smile at that, but her heart was still pounding, the sensation of Zār's smile lingering in her thoughts. She didn't understand what it meant, or why it had made her feel the way it did, but she knew one thing—she was definitely not going to forget it anytime soon.

As the three of them hurried to catch up, Alarielle found herself glancing at Zār's back, her mind spinning with curiosity and confusion. Whatever he had planned, whatever his "interesting means" were, she knew she would have to be ready. Because Zār was proving to be far more complicated—and far more intriguing—than she had ever anticipated.

After they had breakfast, the horses were saddled, and the group finally found Magra and Thalorin, both looking groggy and still reeling from whatever had transpired the night before. As they approached, Ravareth suddenly gasped, his eyes widening in realization.

"YOU! YOU BOTH FUCKED, DIDN'T YOU?" he exclaimed, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Magra's cheeks flushed, and she quickly avoided Ravareth's eyes, instead casting a wary glance at Zār, who appeared completely uninterested in the conversation. He was flipping through a small book in his hand—a journal, perhaps? Alarielle couldn't quite tell, but his focus was absolute, as if he hadn't heard a single word.

"I can sleep with whoever I want. It's none of your business, Rav," Magra retorted, her tone sharp, though she still kept her eyes trained on Zār, as if waiting for some kind of reaction. But he didn't even look up from the pages, his expression remaining stoic and detached.

Ravareth's mouth twitched into a grin. "Oh, I'm not judging, Magra. Just… surprised. I mean, Thalorin?" he teased, his voice dripping with mock disbelief.

Magra rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed with his commentary. "Like I said, none of your business," she repeated, though there was a hint of tension in her voice. Her gaze flickered back to Zār, but he continued to read, oblivious or intentionally indifferent.

Alarielle found herself observing the odd dynamic, trying to piece together what was unsaid. It was as if Magra was seeking some acknowledgment from Zār, but he refused to give it. It left an uneasy silence lingering between them, one that Ravareth's teasing failed to fill.

"Well," Ravareth said, breaking the tension with a shrug, "guess we're all full of surprises today, aren't we?"

Magra shot him a withering look but didn't respond, and Alarielle could only wonder at what exactly had happened between them all

Thalorin walked over to Ravareth, his expression somber and a bit sheepish. "I... I'm sorry," he said, his voice low, almost hesitant. "I should have been there. I just heard what happened. I was so wasted I didn't hear a thing… Magra went out, but from what I heard, she didn't come to you guys."

Ravareth's teasing smile faded, replaced by a more serious, thoughtful look. He studied Thalorin for a moment, his usual sharpness tempered by the weight of the events that had transpired. "Yeah, well… it's done now," Ravareth replied, his tone softer than usual. "But we could've used the help."

Thalorin's shoulders sagged, and he seemed genuinely remorseful, his eyes flicking to the ground. "I know," he muttered. "If I'd been sober… if I'd known…"

Ravareth sighed, reaching out to place a hand on Thalorin's shoulder. "Look, you weren't there, but you're here now. That counts for something. Just... don't disappear on us again when things go sideways, alright?"

Thalorin nodded, relief mingling with guilt. "Alright," he agreed, his voice barely above a whisper. "You have my word,".

Ravareth looked over at Magra again, his expression shifting back to its familiar, teasing sharpness. "Mind enlightening us on where you were last night, Princess?" he asked, sarcasm dripping from every word.

Magra shot him a glare, her eyes flashing. "None. Of. Your. Business."

"I think it is his business, considering he is my second, which ranks him higher than you, Magrath," Zār interjected, finally looking up from his book. His tone was calm, almost detached, but there was a distinct edge to his words.

Magra's eyes widened, as if she had been struck. "You… you've never imposed rank on me," she stammered, her shock evident.

Zār's gaze was steady, his expression unreadable. "I tend to realize my mistakes often and correct them," he said coolly. "So, answer the question that my second-in-command asked you."

Ravareth's smug grin grew wider, practically dripping with satisfaction. He crossed his arms, leaning back slightly as he waited for Magra's response, clearly enjoying the turn of events.

Magra's lips tightened, and she looked as though she was biting back several choice words. After a tense pause, she finally spoke, her voice low and seething. "I… went to the woods. To feed."

Her answer hung in the air, and Alarielle could feel the tension crackle between them. Whatever unspoken dynamics existed in the group, they had just been laid bare, and it was clear that Magra's absence the previous night was more than just a matter of curiosity—it was a matter of trust, and perhaps a test of loyalty.

Zār's expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, a quick, assessing look as he regarded Magra, "Then next time, make sure your absence is accounted for. We can't afford surprises." he said finally, his voice devoid of warmth.

Magra clenched her jaw but didn't respond, her gaze dropping as if to avoid meeting Zār's eyes. Whatever had passed between them, it had left its mark, and Alarielle couldn't shake the feeling that there was a deeper story she wasn't privy to.

"Alarielle," a familiar voice called out, and she turned to see Edna approaching, accompanied by another elf leading a beautiful white horse. The horse's coat gleamed in the morning sunlight, its mane catching the light and giving off a soft, iridescent shimmer that almost resembled a rainbow. The sight was mesmerizing, and for a moment, Alarielle couldn't help but stare.

Edna smiled as she neared, her expression warm but a little sad. "Ralkov told me that you don't have a horse. I heard that the one you came on got spooked during the chaos last night and ran off. We couldn't find it anywhere."

Alarielle glanced at the white horse, her heart softening. It was a stunning creature, its elegant stance and gentle eyes making it look almost ethereal.

"I had suggested Ravareth give you his horse and take Lirien here," Edna continued, gesturing toward the white horse. "But he likes his horse too much. The one he has belonged to his Nonna, Jeraldine."

She paused, her gaze turning fond as she looked at the white horse. "This was Mavrick's horse. Lirien has been with the family for many years, and she's gentle, but she's strong. We thought it would be fitting if you took her, at least for now."

Alarielle blinked, taken aback by the gesture. "I… I don't know what to say," she stammered, feeling a mix of gratitude and hesitance. "Are you sure it's alright? She was Mavrick's…"

Edna nodded, a soft smile tugging at her lips. "Yes, and I think Mavrick would have wanted it this way. Lirien deserves to be with someone who will care for her, and I think she'll be a good companion for you."

The other elf stepped forward, guiding Lirien closer so Alarielle could reach out and touch her. The horse lowered her head slightly, as if acknowledging Alarielle, and she tentatively stroked Lirien's mane, the soft strands slipping through her fingers like silk.

"Thank you," Alarielle said, her voice thick with emotion. "I'll take care of her. I promise."

Edna's smile widened, though there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. "I know you will," she said quietly. "And she'll take care of you too."

As Lirien nuzzled Alarielle's hand, a warmth spread through her chest, but it was accompanied by a pang of confusion and vulnerability. She looked up at Edna, her eyes burning with unspoken emotions. "Why… why would you be so kind to someone you don't even know?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly, as if she couldn't quite understand or accept the gesture.

Edna's smile softened, and she stepped closer, her expression gentle and full of understanding. "It's usually me who has to ask that question," she said quietly, a hint of amusement mingling with the sadness in her eyes. "I've asked it many times to my brother and his mate. They both wouldn't have done the same, but it doesn't change what kindness is."

She paused, taking a slow breath, as if gathering her thoughts. "Kindness doesn't cost a thing, Alarielle. It's something we can give freely, and sometimes, it's the only thing we have left to offer." Her voice wavered, and tears glistened in her eyes, but she continued to smile. "You showed kindness last night, even when you didn't have to. And this is just… a way to show you that you're not alone. That there are still those who want to offer a hand, even if it's just a small one."

Alarielle's throat tightened, and she felt tears welling up, threatening to spill over. It had been so long since someone had been kind to her without expecting anything in return, and the sheer simplicity of it felt overwhelming. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I don't… I don't know how to repay this."

Edna shook her head, her own tears shimmering as she reached out and gently touched Alarielle's arm. "There's nothing to repay, child. Just take Lirien, and let her guide you, as you've guided others."

The moment felt fragile, like a thread connecting them, born from shared grief and unexpected kindness. Alarielle let the tears fall, and for once, she didn't try to hide them. She stroked Lirien's mane again, the horse's calm presence grounding her, reminding her that there was still hope, still light to be found, even in the darkest of times.

Edna squeezed her arm gently before stepping back. "Take care of her, and yourself," she said softly. "That's all the thanks I need."

Once they were all mounted on their horses, Ravareth guided his steed next to Alarielle's and nudged her playfully. "You cried because Eddie gave you a horse?" he teased, a grin spreading across his face. "Lirien is pretty, sure, but crying over her? You'd inflate her ego."

Alarielle managed a small, bittersweet smile, but her eyes were distant, her thoughts still lingering on the earlier exchange. "When you've lived your whole life running," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rhythmic sound of the horses' hooves, "you find that kindness is hard to come by."

Ravareth's grin faded, and he turned his head slightly to look at her, his eyes softening. He hadn't expected her answer, and for a moment, he was silent, letting her words sink in. "I still have yet to know you better," he said quietly, his tone gentle and sincere. "But I believe what Mal says about you. And I think… you'd never have to run from anything alone. Again."

Alarielle's eyes widened slightly, and she turned to meet his gaze, surprised by the warmth and kindness she saw there. It wasn't the teasing, playful Ravareth she was used to, but something deeper, more genuine.

Alarielle sniffled, her eyes glistening as she tried to hold back the wave of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. She hadn't expected such gentle sincerity from Ravareth, and it touched something deep inside her, a place that had been closed off for so long. She nodded, her throat tight, and managed a small, grateful smile.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the steady rhythm of the horses' hooves.

Ravareth's lips curled into a small, crooked grin, the familiar playfulness returning, but it was gentler this time, more careful. "Besides," he added, his tone lightening, "I'm pretty sure Malrek would have my head if I let you run off alone again. So you're stuck with us."

Alarielle laughed, a quiet, shaky sound, but genuine. "I guess I'll just have to get used to it," she said, her smile widening a bit more.

"Good," Ravareth replied, his eyes sparkling. "Because I'm not letting you out of my sight."

They continued riding, the morning sun warming their faces, and for the first time in a long while, Alarielle felt a flicker of hope. Maybe she didn't have to run anymore. 

"so , Magra's real name is Magrath?" she asked once they got into a steady pace throught the forest

Ravareth let out a laugh "thats all you gathered from that conversation? and yes. thats her name" 

"oh i gathered a lot of things , like magra and zar have a history that Magra is not over but zar seemed to have forgotten" she said 

Ravareth laughed again. " yeah. but it wasnt a thing, i believe. one drunken night they slept together i think. and margra basically thought they were going to get married or something. i remeber she told everyone he was her mate. Zar didnt even acknowlege it" 

Alarielle raised an eyebrow, surprised but not entirely shocked. "That must have been… awkward," she mused, glancing over at where Zār was riding ahead, his usual stoic composure giving nothing away.

"Oh, it was," Ravareth replied, a grin spreading across his face. "Magra was furious, but she couldn't get Zār to react. He just… carried on like nothing happened, which, knowing him, makes sense."

Alarielle thought about it for a moment, the pieces of the puzzle starting to fit together. "That explains a lot," she said softly, glancing back at Ravareth. "It's why she kept looking at him earlier, isn't it? Like she was expecting him to… I don't know, care?"

"Yep," Ravareth said, his grin softening. "But Zār is… complicated. He doesn't do things just because someone expects him to. And if Magra thought she could force him into acknowledging something he never agreed to, well, she was always going to be disappointed."

Alarielle nodded, her thoughts drifting. "I can see that," she said, her voice thoughtful. "He's… hard to read."

Ravareth's smile turned a little wry. "That's an understatement. But once you get to know him, you realize that he's always been honest—maybe too honest. If he doesn't feel something, he won't pretend he does. And that's both his strength and his flaw."

Alarielle absorbed that, her eyes following the path ahead. The forest was thick and green, the sunlight filtering through the leaves, creating dappled patterns on the ground.

"We're going to Illianthor, right? Ralkov mentioned it earlier," Alarielle asked, her curiosity piqued. "How many kingdoms are there in this realm?"

Ravareth nodded, adjusting his reins as they continued their steady pace through the forest. "Yeah, we're headed to Illianthor. It's one of the main territories in the demon realm, and it's more stable than most, at least for now."

He paused, as if gathering his thoughts. "There are five main kingdoms you need to know about. Illianthor is where we're going. Then there's Eldoria, to the west, mostly forests and mountains—ancient werewolf clans who keep to themselves. Tharimor lies to the north, rugged lands known for their druid warriors and ruled by Vampires. Lysara, to the south, is all deserts and underground cities, a place where deals are made, both good and bad."

He hesitated before continuing. "And then, there's Nyxvelyn. Or, there was."

Alarielle's ears perked up at the name, feeling a chill run through her. "Nyxvelyn?" she repeated.

Ravareth's expression darkened slightly. "It was once the heart of both the Fae and demon realms, right where the Demon Emperor Drakon and the Fae Queen Deliah ruled together. When the demon empire fell, the balance shifted, and the then Fae King altered the veil between the realms, turning Nyxvelyn into a Fae kingdom. It was ruled by the Thornbrior family after the Fae realm was divided."

"What happened to it?" Alarielle asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Things didn't stay peaceful for long," Ravareth said, his tone grim. "Half of Nyxvelyn, which once belonged to the demon kingdom, still remains near the veil. But the other half—what was left of the Fae part—was destroyed by Drakyrids a long time ago. Nyxvelyn became a fragmented place, haunted by its past."

Alarielle processed this, her mind racing with new information. "So… part of it is still there, near the veil?"

Ravareth nodded. "Yes, but it's not the same. The remnants of the demon empire that once stood there are shadows, lingering near the veil. Few dare to venture close because it's still dangerous. But the balance between the Fae and demon realms has always been delicate, and Nyxvelyn was a symbol of that—until everything fell apart."

Alarielle's mind spun, trying to piece together what she knew. "So when Nyxvelyn became a Fae kingdom, it was ruled by the Thornbrior family?" she asked, the name striking a chord.

"Yes," Ravareth said, glancing over at her. "The Thornbriors took over after the Fae King divided the realms, claiming Nyxvelyn as their own. But the land has always been contested, and with the Drakyrids destroying half of it, there isn't much left to fight over. It's mostly ruins now, with a part still clinging to the old power from the demon days."

Alarielle nodded slowly, trying to absorb everything. "It's strange to think of a place that was once so powerful being reduced to ruins," she said softly, her eyes distant.

"That's the way of things here," Ravareth said, his tone soft but resigned. "Power shifts, realms change, and what was once grand can become nothing more than a memory. The demon empire fell, the veil shifted, and Nyxvelyn was left caught in the middle. But those remnants still hold secrets. They're not as dead as they seem."

As they continued to ride, Alarielle's mind drifted, the name "Nyxvelyn" stirring memories she hadn't thought about in a long time. Her mother had spoken of it sometimes, in hushed, wistful tones, back when they were still held captive by the Drakyrids. Those moments were rare, but they had been a lifeline—small glimpses of a world Alarielle could only imagine.

She remembered her mother's voice, soft and sad, describing the beauty of Nyxvelyn—the way the trees would glow under the moonlight, the harmony of the Fae and demon realms that had once flourished there. But there had always been a sorrow in her words, a grief for something lost, a place that could never truly be hers again.

Alarielle blinked, trying to push back the wave of emotions that threatened to surface. She had been so young then, and her mother's stories had felt like fairy tales, a distraction from the harsh reality of their captivity. But now, hearing Ravareth speak of Nyxvelyn as a broken, divided land, she felt an ache that she hadn't realized was still there. It wasn't just a kingdom to her—it was a part of her history, a piece of her that she had never been allowed to truly understand.

She glanced at Ravareth, who was still speaking, describing the ruins near the veil with a detached, almost clinical tone. She wondered if he knew—if any of them knew—just how much Nyxvelyn had meant to her mother, and by extension, to her. But she didn't say anything, letting his words wash over her as she tried to hold on to the fragments of her mother's stories, the way she had held on to them back then.

As they moved deeper into the forest, Alarielle couldn't help but feel a strange pull, a quiet longing to see what was left of Nyxvelyn for herself. Perhaps there were still echoes of her mother's voice there, hidden among the ruins, waiting to be found.

"I want to see Nyxvelyn once," Alarielle said, not realizing she had spoken the thought aloud until the words left her lips.

Ravareth turned to her, his expression shifting slightly, a mix of curiosity and caution. "It's a volatile area," he said, his voice careful, as if weighing his words. "Under the Drakyrid kingdom's control. But since your goal is to go to the Drakyrid kingdom anyway, I guess we will eventually see it."

Alarielle's heart skipped a beat at the mention of the Drakyrids. The name alone brought back memories she had tried to bury, memories of dark, endless days and the cold, suffocating grip of fear. But there was also something else—a flicker of determination, a need to confront what she had run from for so long.

"I didn't know it was under their control," she murmured, more to herself than to Ravareth. "I thought… it was just ruins."

"It mostly is," Ravareth replied, his tone softening. "But the Drakyrids have kept a hold on it. Probably because it's close to the veil, and they want to control whatever power still lingers there. It's not a place most would willingly visit."

If she could see it, even once, maybe she could understand the place her mother had cherished so much, the kingdom that had been lost and the war Illiana spoke of. Alarielle glanced ahead, where the path wound deeper into the forest, the trees thickening around them. 

"If we do see it," she said, her voice steadying, "I'd like to know more about it. About what happened there."

Ravareth nodded, his expression thoughtful.