Elder Tharion had seen to the city's defenses. All the old tunnels were sealed off but one, in case of siege, and the food stores had been restocked. Only the wards remained.
The Council had found no volunteer—none of the elders were willing to sacrifice five souls. It was during this meeting that Elyndra had gone before the council to offer herself. While some members voted to use her, the rest would not risk their only hope on a ward that was doomed to shatter.
Lord Daenor stepped before the council with reason. His black robe caught the sunlight from the roof as he moved.
"I beg my lords to see reason. The wards would hold for a mere day even if renewed. We need not risk this. Elder Galadriel made us all vow never to give up the life of any of us to renew those wards."
"We are well aware of that, Lord Daenor. But the girl is a hybrid—we need only her blood, not her life force," Archmage Corvell said. He turned to the council. "She possesses the blood of the Old, and the wards would hold through a siege, giving the Morning Vale enough time to repel any assault."
Lord Marcell and Lord Tharion nodded in agreement.
"You have no idea the potency of elven blood, my lord," Lord Faerlen said, rising to his feet, his gaze fixed on Corvell. "We have no way to tell how the wards will respond to her blood—nor do we want her to awaken before her time." He paused, turning to Elyndra. "I know you have the city's interest at heart, and my soul rejoices for that. But let us carry this burden."
"Lord Faerlen is right." Myrathen's voice rang out, the weight of three centuries bending its tone. When he spoke, the council seemed to sway toward his favor.
"Let the council deliberate on this matter," he said with a warm nod.
But Elyndra's mind had already been set in stone.
"I am asking the council to trust me—and Archmage Corvell. Should evil find us, we must throw everything we have at it. The wards will give us enough time to act."
The court whispered in hushed tones, heads turning toward one another.
"Let it be known that the council has ruled to perform the ritual. Lady Elyndra Vaerielle will accompany Archmage Corvell to the Vale—"
The doors burst open with a thud, drawing the attention of the entire court. The light seemed to dim when his figure entered. He walked with a small limp—easy to miss—clad not in armor but in a white inner garment with a blue robe draped over his shoulders, the colors of House Vaerielle. He carried his sword in his left hand, and his words came sharp and short.
"She will do no such thing."
Silence fell.
***
From the horizon, the sky bleeds red—the blood of my kin.
My heart weeps for the fallen, their swords shattered, their wills broken.
Do you hear my song, O Valor Knight?
Will my voice renew your strength?
Rise with the sun—Aethrion calls.
She shall be your fury at noon,
and your tranquility at night.
Arya's voice echoed through the chambers like soft wind. The song—A Weeping Star—from the Book of Souls written by Vaelor Vaer'Nocth the Third. She snuggled against Elarion's chest, careful not to worsen his wounds.
Elarion lay with his eyes shut, his mind sinking into the solemn hymn. He stirred when a delicate finger traced across his chest.
"Good morning," Arya whispered in his ear.
"For a moment, I thought myself before the gods," he murmured. His voice was low and deep. Arya smiled, her lips curving with warmth. Then, gently, she straddled him—her golden hair falling over her face, hanging above his like shimmering vines.
"What else did you see?" she asked softly.
"My sword stained in blood... Caelvorn in ruin and ash behind me." His voice was quiet, but the vision was clear, like memory.
"Mmh," she nodded. "Vaelor spoke of his heir—one born of the moon but who shall rise like the sun."
"And you think that heir is me?" Elarion asked, half-smiling.
"I think... we need more wine." She slipped off him, crossing the room to pour. The white dress she wore barely concealed her form—something he knew she did on purpose. He sat up on the edge of the bed, his muscles flexing beneath his skin. She returned and straddled him once more.
"Why are you like this?" he asked, holding her by the waist, burying his face against her chest.
"You mean... why am I the way you love me?" she laughed, her voice a melody that soothed him. Her hands traced the lines of his jaw.
"People give each other love," she whispered. "You give me more—hope and strength."
"Even when the enemy lies just beyond our lands?"
"You sent a message with this one, didn't you? Even with all his power, he fled before your blade—because you carry more than might. You carry the songs of our people... and their tears." She kissed him tenderly.
"What more could I ask for than this?"
"Marry me," he said abruptly.
She didn't recoil—only smiled, her cheeks flushing.
"This is the third time I've heard you say that," she teased.
"And the third time I haven't gotten an answer. We've seen each other for five eclipséras now."
"I know." She placed a finger on his lips. "But we've done this in secret. There's still much before us."
"You mean the people we must convince. Your father has no idea his daughter lies in the arms of Elarion Vaerielle. What if he doesn't approve?" His voice was gentle. The three factions might have lived in harmony within Caelvorn's walls, but their blood still carried ancient grudges. If her father forbade her from seeing an elf, she would lose everything.
"You have a destiny to fulfill," she said. "I'd hate to sway you from that."
"You worry too much." He chuckled softly.
"Says the man who has no idea his sister is giving herself for the ward ritual."
"What?"
Arya slid off his body, sitting upright on the bed. She watched as he dressed and reached for his sword.
"What are you going to do?" she asked.
"Stop her from playing hero." His voice was sharp, angry. When he turned for the door, she held him back.
"She's no longer a child. Perhaps see her reason. I told you because I don't trust anyone on the council—but I trust your sister's heart. She wants a chance in this fight."
He said nothing and left.
The guards outside the great hall looked at each other, startled—the Lord Commander shouldn't even be standing, let alone storming through with his sword in hand. They pushed the doors open for him, and his voice rang through the chamber:
"She will do no such thing!"
"Lord Elarion, thank the gods to see you on your feet!" Lord Tharion rose.
"What is the meaning of this?" Elarion demanded.
"My lord, your sister asked for this," Lord Daenor said.
"And she asked for a dragon when she was five," Elarion shot back. His eyes snapped toward Elyndra. She met his gaze, unflinching.
"Do I need to remind you that the creature I fought was sent to find you?"
Gasps rippled through the council. They shifted uneasily in their seats.
"This thing has an affinity for elven blood. Do this, and you might as well point it straight to Caelvorn."
"The mages will contain the wind," Corvell said firmly.
"Maeryn cast spells all night, as far as Moria, and yet he still found us. This is a risk I am not willing to take."
"Then sit back and watch—because I am willing to take it," Elyndra said. Her voice wasn't defiance—it was conviction.
"You don't have to bear this burden," Elarion pleaded.
Myrathen Ae'lin watched silently, the weight of memory in his eyes. He had seen this before.
"Duty is not burden," Elyndra said quietly. "If I am what the prophecy says I am, then this is inevitable."
She had been a child not long ago—when had she grown so much? Elarion faltered, words failing him. Arya had always said Elyndra's heart was bold, stubborn, and moved by purpose.
He sighed. "Then I'll accompany you."
"No, you can't," Elyndra said firmly. Elder Tharion chuckled at her boldness.
"What do you mean?" Elarion asked.
"You need your full strength. You should trust the Morning Vale to see it through."
Lucen, Maeryn, and Galvin entered the hall just then—as if waiting for her to say those words.
Archmage Corvell stepped before Elarion. "You have my word—she will return safely to these walls."
"And mine," Lord Daenor added.
Elarion looked at Elyndra one last time, then nodded. "Very well."
"It is decided," Myrathen Ae'lin declared. "The Morning Vale will accompany Lady Elyndra, Lord Daenor, and the Archmage to the Vale. May the gods protect you."
The council rose in unison.
"May the gods protect you."