The Morning Light
Summer had returned to Aeloria. The wildflowers that once bloomed beneath Ellara's window, now grew everywhere in the village green in waves of purple and gold, their petals catching the morning light like scattered gems. Marcus sat on an old stone bench, his trusty tome was opened but unread on his lap. He watched young apprentices as they hurry to their morning lessons at the newly established School of Recorded Knowledge—a place that would have fascinated Ellara, had she remained.
Five years had passed since the events at the crystal chamber, yet the weight of those memories hadn't reduced, they had only changed, like pressed flowers between pages of a beloved book. The village had grown, its boundaries pushing outward like ripples in a pond. New houses dotted the outskirts, built by those seeking refuge after the shadow-plague. They had come expecting to find destruction but instead they discovered a haven where the woods' protection was strongest.