The first wave crashed against Kirellion's wall like a tide.
Beasts of all shapes—scaled, horned, clawed—howled as they leapt against the writhing barrier of vines and roots, pressing and clawing again and again. Each impact sent a flicker of mana out from the wall, but for now, it was not breaking.
The wall screamed under the buffeting forces, warping and bending, but sustaining.
The beasts were not done.
They just… moved aside.
And parting them, with the thunderous crashing of an avalanche, strode the stone beast—its titanic plated form radiating raw, corrosive mana. It crushed its lesser equals beneath slashing claws without a care in the world, its eyes fixated on the wall it sought to dismantle.
Kirellion, swaying but standing only by will, turned to one of the young warriors that had stayed back.
"You," he croaked, gripping a shaking hand onto the shoulder of the elf. "Your name?"
The young man straightened, eyes wide.
"Telmar, son of Elaris."
Kirellion nodded, as though that name stirred something familiar.
"You will lead them now, Telmar," the elder whispered. "When I fall… rally them. Hold the line. Guard the tribe."
Telmar's throat tightened. "But—"
"No time for doubt," Kirellion said. "Divide our strength. Clear the path ahead for the villagers. Hold the rear should I fall. Protect the legacy of Valen'Dar."
Telmar's eyes burned with resolve. "I will, Elder."
____
In front of some distance, the evacuation continued on with difficulty.
Families struggled with those who were injured, children cried from fatigue. Many had little more than a state of consciousness from the mana wave and now it was a matter of life and death.
Hera panted and shoved her way through the crowd with a baby. The baby's mother, a young elf with bandaged legs, was slung over the shoulder of the same healer Hera had helped earlier.
"She's barely breathing," Hera gasped. "But the baby is alive."
The healer nodded tightly. "Then that is enough. Move."
All around her, elves began noticing again— not the human girl, but the life she carried forward. Another thread in the tapestry. Another hope.
Meanwhile, Luenor twisted through the tunnel and guided Lyssari, who clenched onto Luenor's hand harder than she thought.
Her eyes were swollen. Her unsure steps battled with the weight of fatigue and the trauma of loss. The girl that had been filled with wonder about humans was now left with nothing but fear and despair.
"My father is probably dead..." Lyssari quietly spoke.
Luenor stopped.
He turned to face her, placing his hands on her shoulders.
"He isn't," he said. "Because if he was, you'd feel it."
Lyssari looked up, eyes searching his.
"You're strong," Luenor said. "You are his daughter. But right now, your tribe needs you more than your sorrow does. These people—your people—they need someone to follow."
She sniffled.
"I don't know how to lead…"
"Yes," he said, smiling faintly. "You do. You've already been watching the best leader you'll ever know."
She hesitated… then nodded, slowly stepping forward, straightening her spine.
As they moved toward the front of the line, Telmar, now armored in cracked bark-woven plating, gave Lyssari a glance that said everything: We need you. And then, to Luenor, he offered a sharp nod of respect.
The group continued forward.
The tunnel sloped down again, roots curling more tightly around the walls. As he ran, Luenor caught a glimpse of something—a narrow side passage hidden beneath a tangling of roots and cobwebs. It looked like an old, neglected, and forgotten passageway.
He ignored it.
There was no time for side routes. No time to wonder. Not with others relying on him.
And really...he didn't trust himself to lead them anywhere.
He gritted his teeth as he continued.
Every step felt like fire.
He couldn't discriminate the guilt—churning in his chest like poison.
'If I hadn't begged to speak to Father about Siegfried…
If I hadn't hesitated in the courtyard…
If I hadn't remained still while Richard and the others died…'
His father. The home that raised him.
All gone.