Sir Albrecht moved forward with a cool yet serious demeanor. "We'll be sure that everything you ask for—food, weapons, coin and materials—gets to your new settlement within a week."
Luenor nodded appreciatively, but before he could claim a response, Albrecht turned back to George. "Your Highness, we must return."
George's smile dropped. "Already?"
"You have been away too long from the capital. The court will grow suspicious and the king's disposition is fragile. We cannot risk a consequence that might outweigh the overall value of what we have accomplished."
George looked back wistfully at Luenor.
"You must go," Luenor urged quietly.
George chuckled weakly, "And I thought I was finally going to be able to exhale. Capital feels like a prison."
He took a step forward, to finally hug Luenor, but Luenor raised a hand to stop him. He turned to Arwin and gestured without saying a word.
"Your knife," he said.
Arwin was confused and handed it over.
Then, before anyone could react, Luenor grasped the blade and cut a deep gash across his palm. Blood welled and dripped onto the pliant forest floor.
Gasps came from the elves. Even Hera stepped forward in alarm.
"Luenor? What are you doing?" George asked in a mixture of confusion and rising concern.
Luenor turned to him, palm bleeding, voice ringing out loud and clear across the glade.
"I, Luenor Sureva, son of Arhenius Sureva, solemnly swear upon my blood and the legacy of my house—though it is broken—as follows: I will rise. I will become strong. Strong enough to protect you, George. Strong enough to put myself between you and your enemies blades. Strong enough to smite down anyone who stands in your way to the throne."
George's face went slack.
"This is my oath; to repay your kindness today, and the kindness you have extended to me even when the rest of the world turned their back."
His voice quavered slightly as he added, "I will not forget."
Silence spread over the glade. Even the trees seemed to pause from their whispers.
Then George stepped forward. He slowly removed the ceremonial knife from Albrecht's belt and, without a moment's hesitation, cut into his own palm.
He pressed the bleeding palm against Luenor's.
"I accept your vow, brother," he said, his voice shaking. "And I swear this—as I reach that throne, I will do so with honor. And when you are at my side, it will not be as my shadow, but as my equal."
George's tears sparkled as he pulled Luenor into a tight embrace. The vow was made. Not in convenience, but in a weaving of blood and fate.
At length, the prince mounted his horse, took one last look at the boy who now had a storm brewing in his eyes, and he rode off with Albrecht and the golden knights into the folds of the forest.
Luenor stood still, his hand clenched, the blood drying against his fingers.
Hera stepped beside him. "That… was serious."
Arwin stepped in too, brows creased. "Do you even know what kind of oath that was?"
Luenor looked at them both, his eyes not soft, but blazing.
"I do," he said. "It wasn't just for George. It was for Father. For everything they've taken from us."
He turned his gaze to the sky, voice filled with quiet fury.
"I'll become strong. Strong enough to change this world."
__
The forest seemed to sigh as the small procession—elves, a few humans, and one quiet tiger—marched through the winding paths toward the hidden human village of Eclion. Their pace was somber but determined, the promise of a new home like a fragile flame at the end of a long, dark night.
Thalanar led the group with a staff in hand. Beside him, Arwin and Hera talked softly while Telmar and others in the scouting party hung along the edges, stalking the group closely with sharp eyes cast ahead out of caution.
The group wasn't long into their endeavor before hopeful plans turned into a more grim reality.
It was Telmar who broke the silence first. "We can't trust the humans," he said bluntly. "So we should strike first. Kill them all and take the village. There is no other way to ensure they don't betray us at some juncture."
Several of the older elves nodded agreement, their voices low and stern.
But Hera stepped forward, brows creasing in frustration. "That's not who we are. We ran away from the war because we were bored to tears with bloodshed. We should be looking to coexist, not conquer."
Arwin, who definitely had a limp now, nodded in agreement. "They are farmers, not warriors. If we give them a reason to trust us, perhaps they will see us as allies."
Luenor listened to it all, thinking hard. His mind drifted back to the dream of his mother's voice—of Eclion as a sanctuary, not a battlefield.
"They won't trust us," Telmar argued. "They're humans. They'll sell us out the moment a better offer comes along."
"Maybe," Luenor said, breaking his silence. "But Eclion isn't a normal village. It's… lawless. Run by bandits. If we get rid of them, maybe the villagers will see us as saviors, not invaders."
The suggestion earned a round of raised eyebrows and hushed mutters. Some elves looked hopeful. Others looked more wary.
"We've already survived the gate's beasts," one elder said, frowning. "Now you want us to fight human bandits too?"
"It wouldn't be a battle," Luenor insisted. "It would be a… cleansing. A chance to start fresh, together."
The idea hung heavy in the air, debated and re-debated as the group moved.
Finally, Thalanar raised a hand. "Enough. We will consider Luenor's plan. But if it fails—if the villagers are not swayed—we need a last resort."
Telmar's eyes gleamed. "Valdrak."
Even the name quieted the surrounding woods.
Valdrak had been moving alongside them, never part of their party, but never far from them. His quiet but powerful presence was comforting and frightful at the same time.
But they now had one issue.
Luenor turned to Thalanar, confusion in his eyes. "I thought Valdrak... was your ally."
Thalanar chuckled lightly, almost sheepishly, "He is no one's ally. He and I just had a common enemy in the Stone Tyrant. We do not command him. We just fought together."
Arwin scowled. "So how are we supposed to ask him for help now?"
Thalanar turned his eyes to Luenor. "You. Valdrak is... fascinated by you, I think. You wielded magic you should have never survived. You fought with him. He will listen to you if to anyone."
Luenor's throat dried up. "Me?"
Hera laid a comforting hand on Luenor's arm. "You have already faced worse."
Telmar, who had been tracking the forest paths, sniffed the air and nodded. "He's close. I can smell him. If you're going to talk to him… go now. We'll wait."
Luenor took a breath and nodded. His footsteps were careful as he followed the tracks Telmar pointed out.
The forest grew quiet the deeper he went. The air was thick with the musky scent of old pine and cold earth. And then—like a wraith in the fog—Valdrak appeared.
He sat calmly in a small clearing, his white fur almost luminous in the dappled light. Those golden eyes fixed on Luenor with an eerie calm—like he had been expecting him.
The boy swallowed hard. "Valdrak," he said softly, bowing his head in respect.
The tiger didn't move. Just watched. Waiting.
And Luenor realized that here, in this silent space of the forest, he would need no grand speeches or royal oaths.