When he entered the council hall again, the air shifted almost imperceptibly. The Lorienyan lords, gathered in quiet conversation, fell silent as soon as they felt him step through the archway.
Even Vaelthorn and Sylwen paused, their senses instinctively bowing before the quiet power that now radiated from him.
Vaelthorn straightened. "Prince Lindarion. You return from the Tree."
Lindarion inclined his head. "I do."
Sylwen's green eyes softened. "We felt… something. A change in the roots. What did you see?"
Lindarion paused. He could still hear the echo of Elyndra's voice, the pulse of divine fire threading through his veins. But to speak of it would invite questions, questions he wasn't ready to answer.
"The Tree showed me its memory," he said finally. "And it judged me worthy to walk beneath its light. Nothing more."
