The path outside was stone-paved and quiet, lined with silvery trees that whispered softly in the wind.
Lanterns floated midair like fireflies, glowing with soft magic.
Akamir didn't see it when he was here last time, but the kingdom was much more beautiful than anything else.
Yet…
He couldn't help but notice a difference in the people's mood.
They all looked like they weren't having a good time despite the calmness of the place.
Despite the beauty, there was a heaviness in the air.
Akamir looked to his side where Aravelle walked silently.
She kept her hood up, her now-disguised face blending easily with the crowd.
Akamir, with his white mask covering his face, did bring much suspicion.
"You were saying," Akamir prompted.
Aravelle glanced at him before continuing, her voice low and even.
"We Elves didn't always live here," she began. "This city—Elaren—is only three thousand years old. Before that, we lived deeper, far within a different continent."
