(POV Aileen)
Brick studies the six of us in silence—really studies us, like he's weighing something only he can see.
Then he moves.
A sudden leap. A spin midair.
And a shimmer of dust rains down over our bodies.
…Oh.
By all the clouds—we're shrinking.
Smaller. Smaller.
Until—
We're his size.
Sidae, Hercules, and Raertha don't look thrilled about it.
Me?
I love it.
"This is incredible! I'll never get used to this—we're even smaller than when we entered the Elven Tree! Everything feels… enormous!" I blurt out, turning in place, taking it all in.
"B-but we'll tuuurn back to normal, rrriiight?" Grogher asks, his voice tight.
"Of course, Grog." Dorcha gives his shoulder a reassuring pat. Easy. Steady.
Brick, on the other hand, looks… mildly annoyed. Like our reactions are noise he'd rather not hear.
Without a word, he ushers us forward—toward the split trunk of an ancient olive tree.
Ancient… at least, it feels that way now.
We step inside.
And blink.
It looks like a classroom.
Rows of desks. Neat, ordered. And right in the center—a cold, unused cauldron.
Then—
A swarm of tiny footsteps.
A group of fairy children rushes toward us, bright-eyed, buzzing with excitement.
"Careful! Don't bother our guests!" a young fairy calls out, hurrying after them. She's delicate, graceful, a cone-shaped hat perched on her head.
She tries to stop them.
She fails. Miserably.
The little ones are too curious. Too alive.
"Gamy, could you come here?" Brick calls over the rising chatter, gesturing for her.
"Of course! Quiet now, children—Brick has something very important to say."
That does it.
The room settles.
The children drop to the floor, cross-legged, waiting.
Watching.
"Gamy. Children…" Brick begins. "Allow me to introduce Princess Aileen of Clouderland. Knight Dorcha. Knight Grogher. And their animal companions."
A small boy's eyes go wide.
"Are they going to defeat the Olc Fairies?" he asks.
Olc Fairies…?
What are those?
Brick nods once.
"That is among their goals, yes. They seek to render the Dark Fairies harmless. But to do that… they need your help."
A pause.
"They must learn the secrets of fairy and sprite magic. All of them. Will you help them?"
The answer explodes.
"Yes!"
Cheers. Laughter. Tiny hands everywhere—grabbing at us, tugging at sleeves, fingers threading through manes and tails.
They're… adorable.
"Gamy…" Brick murmurs quietly, low enough that only she can hear. "They're in your hands now. You know what awaits them in your realm."
A beat.
"It's dangerous."
Another.
"Don't stop at the basics. That won't be enough. Push them further. Much further."
Gamy nods, thoughtful. Focused.
"How much time do I have?"
"Until dawn."
Her expression falters.
Just for a second.
Then she inhales. Deep. Steady.
And meets his gaze.
"I'll do it. See you at dawn."
Brick seems satisfied.
A slight nod.
And then—
He's gone.
(POV Gamy)
Let's hope—truly hope—we can pull this off.
I turn to face our guests.
…Oh dear.
Books are floating everywhere. Spinning, bumping into each other midair. The cauldron is lit, bubbling, exhaling plumes of colored smoke that curl across the room like living things.
If I weren't so tense, I might actually laugh.
The children are in full chaos—chanting spells, talking over one another, throwing out every scrap of knowledge they have like it's a race to impress.
The princess and the two knights seem… amused.
The animals?
Not so much.
Alright. That's enough.
Time to step in.
I put on my brightest smile, clap my hands—sharp, cheerful—and stride toward the class.
"Well done, children! You've all made a wonderful contribution," I say. "But now it's time to go home. Lessons are over for today."
"No!" they shout in unison. "We want to help!"
The princess kneels beside them, her voice soft, warm.
"Thank you. You're all so kind. But you see… we're not even close to your level. And Master Gamy will have to work very hard to help us. You'd be terribly bored. Truly."
Ghrian—the oldest—studies the six guests carefully, then looks at me, worry written all over his tiny face.
"B-But… Master, are you sure you can do it?" he asks. "I mean… do you really know nothing at all?"
Grogher. Dorcha. Aileen.
They glance at each other.
Then, in perfect sync, they lower their heads.
"Nothing."
Perfect.
"Ghrian, don't worry. I can handle this," I reassure him with a smile. "We'll see each other tomorrow. In the meantime, do me a very important favor—make sure everyone fully understands the difference between flight and levitation, alright? Then tomorrow, we'll practice together."
I wink.
Conspiratorial.
"Of course!" he replies at once, already stepping into his role. "Alright, everyone—let's go review!"
"Yes! Okay!" the others echo, falling in line.
Ghrian turns back one last time, looking at the newcomers.
"Good luck," he says, solemn.
Then he signals to the class and takes his place at the doorway, waiting.
I taught him that.
The unmistakable sign—form up, neat and orderly.
They follow him without question.
And finally—
Silence.
I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding.
"Now…" I say, turning to the group.
"We can begin."
(POV Baelnes)
It's night by the time I return.
The house is dark. Silent.
The children must already be asleep.
I head for the small terrace.
She's there.
Yemy—perched on her favorite branch, a cup of herbal tea cradled between her hands, a dim lantern flickering beside her.
Waiting.
Just like always.
"How did it go?" she asks the moment she sees me, worry threading through her voice.
I sit down beside her.
I have to tell her.
Now.
"I have to leave again."
And I watch her break.
Her brow tightens. Her eyes glisten.
I'd rather die than see that look on her face.
"Again? Why? You're not going back to the Orcs!" she whispers sharply, holding herself back from shouting—for the children's sake.
"No. This time it's not about them. I have to go with the King, the Prince… and the witch, Fheall. We have to—" I pause, almost choking on how absurd it sounds. "—save the world."
"What?" Her voice cracks. "Save the—? Baelnes, listen to yourself! Have you lost your mind?" she cuts in, agitated, barely keeping it together. "What do you mean you have to? They're the rulers! If they leave to save the world, fine, I can understand that! But you? What does this have to do with you?"
Her breath trembles.
"And how exactly are you planning to do that, hm? You can barely fight, and you only know the basics of magic!"
She deserves the truth.
All of it.
I can't hide anymore.
I look at her—really look at her.
Agitated. Afraid. Hurt.
I gather myself. Take a breath.
And step forward.
"There's something I've never told you." My voice lowers. Steadier than I feel. "I… am the Keeper of Glàre's Heart."
She freezes.
Stares at me like she doesn't recognize me anymore.
"The keeper of what?"
"Glàre's Heart."
A short, disbelieving laugh escapes her.
"Oh, that's new. My husband is a keeper, and I never knew? And am I allowed to know what that even means?"
She's unraveling now. Nervous. Impatient.
I know that look.
She's about to explode.
But I don't have the luxury of lies anymore.
Not tonight.
Not with this.
"It's a long story," I begin.
"We have the whole night," she says, locking eyes with me. "I'm listening."
I pause. Just a second.
To gather the pieces.
Then—
"Do you remember… when I was younger, I trained at the Elven Knight Camp?"
"Yes," she replies, tense. "So?"
«One day, the Commander assigned me a trial combat. I wanted to win, I didn't care how. I knew I would be facing the best among my companions, so… I sabotaged the hilt of his sword. I thought it would leave him disarmed, I hadn't imagined any other consequences. Instead, when the weapon broke, the blade pierced his foot. They rushed him to the infirmary, they did everything they could to treat him. It was useless: Qumàshy was left crippled. Our Commander was furious! His best student, the most promising Knight of that year, would never be able to fight again. Desperate, almost unhinged, he began to investigate and didn't stop until he understood what had truly happened. When he found out, he expelled me from the camp forever. There had already been other times when I had proven myself dangerous, coming very close to killing my companions. Always, on the surface, for reasons that could be justified. He had never believed in coincidences, but he thought I was just a reckless nature with talent—one that needed to be guided. He kept an eye on me, in short. But that time… I had destroyed a brilliant future. There was no justifying me anymore.»
Yemy, who until now has been listening in growing disbelief, turns toward me.
«Baelnes…»
No. Not now.
«Please, let me finish. It's the second time I've told this story today… and it's already painful enough as it is.»
She nods. And I continue.
«The truth? Every time I held a weapon, I was overwhelmed by the need to win at any cost—and to kill: I became an instrument of destruction. So if I had trusted myself more, I would have won even without resorting to tricks. I didn't realize what was happening to me at first. In the beginning, my mind would blur; after a fight, I remembered nothing. Only when I was expelled and could no longer fight did I understand the truth: I needed to struggle, to wound, to kill, to smell blood. I began going into the forest at night. Hidden in the shadows, I ambushed anyone who passed by. I carried out real massacres—against people, even animals. All of it justified by my twisted urge.»
«That's not you…»
«Yes, it is. That was me. Before.»
«Before…?»
I meet her eyes. Tired.
«Even without proof to condemn me, my reputation spoke for itself: it was obvious who was behind those deaths. Everyone was afraid. I was isolated. By everyone… except you: you knew everything about me, but not that. The rumors spread fast—too fast. I began living in constant fear that someone would tell you the truth and you would leave me. If you had rejected me too, I would have gone mad. My parents were desperate. To help me, they decided I needed a change of air. They sent me to Clouderland, to stay with family friends. They thought living with them would calm me down. It didn't.
The beautiful Solaisga and her husband Lasair had just had a child—little Glàre. They were so happy… and I hated him. I despised joy in every form, and yet I grew attached to them—to the point of fearing I might become a danger to that family. No matter how hard I tried to control myself, my bursts of rage became more and more evident… until I could no longer contain them.
One morning, exhausted from this constant battle against myself, I decided to take Lasair's horse and ride until I collapsed. I rode for hours. Without ever stopping.
I couldn't have chosen a worse day to leave.
At that very moment, the Orc army led by King Bàistec attacked Clouderland. He and Queen Urchoicha, heedless of the opposing rulers' power, had decided to seize Clouderland at any cost.
When I heard, I turned the horse around and raced back in a frenzy. I knew Lasair and his family were in danger—I had to help them!
But when I arrived… I saw Bàistec run Lasair through with his sword. Solaisga was already lying dead on the ground.
Near them, Urchoicha turned to look at me.
She stared. As if drawn by something.
I didn't care. Consumed by despair—and a murderous rage—I ran toward little Glàre. I wanted to save at least him!
But I was surrounded. A group of Orcs closed in on me. One of them struck me with something sharp.
"Don't kill him. I need him!" Bàistec shouted.
It was the last thing I heard before I lost consciousness.
I woke to buckets of freezing water thrown over me.
They had taken me to a cave. Dark. Rank. Thick with cobwebs, rats, and dust. My hands and feet were bound to iron rings fixed into the rock wall.
In front of me stood Bàistec… and his queen.
They had lost to Clouderland.
But Urchoicha was holding Glàre in her arms.
She looked at me, pleased—and said my nature was the most wicked she had ever encountered. Then she offered me a bargain: if I exchanged my dark nature for Glàre's pure, angelic essence, they would spare my life.
If I agreed, Glàre—the future Prince of the Orcs—would become like me: cruel, perverse, driven to kill, enamored with the scent of fresh blood… even rotting blood.
Of course, the child's goodness ran too deep to be completely erased—but Urchoicha would take care of that with her concoctions.
Faced with that… I wished for death.
But all I could see was your face.
I loved you with everything I had. I couldn't accept never seeing you again.
And I thought… maybe the Queen's offer was my chance at redemption.
So—without thinking any further about the child's fate—
I accepted.»
Yemy is completely absorbed now.
«And then? What happened?» she asks.
«Glàre was crying. Urchoicha silenced him with a flick of her hand. I saw the child's eyes turn glassy. Moments later, at the level of his heart, a small sphere of golden, shimmering dust appeared. The Orc queen took it in her hands, then turned toward me. I felt suspended for a few moments; I could no longer breathe, or move. I thought she was killing me. Instead, from my own heart, another sphere emerged—similar to the child's… but black as pitch. Urchoicha made a strange motion with her hands, as if grasping and weaving our opposite natures together. When Glàre's essence began to float before my heart, and mine before the child's, Urchoicha clapped her hands and the two motes vanished, each entering back into us. I could breathe again… and I felt different. Instantly. A strange sensation, one I had never known. I looked at Glàre. Only then did I understand, with horror, what I had agreed to do: the child's gaze was so terrifying it stole my breath. It was the gaze of a killer. Mine. Urchoicha lifted him into the air like a trophy and gave him another name: Dorcha. King Bàistec was radiant! He took the child from his wife's arms, played with him, then remembered I was there. From that day on, I would serve them forever—and remain silent. Otherwise, he himself would see to killing everyone I loved. You first. I could never tell you the truth: I never, ever wanted to serve the Orcs! It was not a choice. It was my sentence. The secret they imposed had to be kept without raising suspicion. I was to tell you I had found work with them and that, for brief periods, I would be allowed to return home—to be with you, to build our family. I would be paid handsomely for it. But I was never to forget: Glàre's essence was inside me… and mine inside Prince Dorcha. This would be forever. If either of us were to die… each essence would return to its rightful owner.»
When the story ends, silence falls.
Yemy cannot speak.
And I… I try to gather my thoughts.
I know this is not just about dying.
There is more.
It is about choosing to sacrifice my life.
But that… I cannot tell her.
«Baelnes… I… I don't think I understand. If things are as you say, then… who are you, really?»
My jaw tightens. My eyes burn.
I can't hold her gaze.
«I don't know,» I answer after a while. «For some time now I've felt different… as if my dark side is returning. If that's true for me, then maybe Dorcha feels it too. That's also why I want—no, why I have—to leave. Dorcha… Glàre… he has the right to know who he truly is.»
A tear slips down. I wipe it away, almost angrily.
I turn back to her.
I feel it rising—the sob, the collapse—but I can't. Not now.
I force it down. Try to steady myself.
«Don't worry. You and the children will be safe. Aeltiàfisar, Baelkers, and Fheall assured me you'll be under their magical protection.»
She moves closer.
Looks at me with a tenderness that cuts deeper than any blade.
She sees me. All the way through. As she always has.
She has always known I've never been a man of halves… but the part of me that once thirsted for death—she never knew. Not until now.
She throws her arms around me.
«Baelnes… I don't care who you were, or who you'll become. I care about who you are. I love you. I always have, and I always will. Go. Leave. Do what you must… but come back to me. Whether you return hungry for love or for hatred—I don't care. Whatever happens… I will be here. For you.»
I can't hold it anymore.
I bury my face in her neck and break.
She holds me tighter, cradling me like a child.
I let myself sink into her embrace, trying to calm the storm inside me.
She smells so good…
I try to fix that scent in my memory. As deeply as I can.
I am the luckiest elf in the world to have her by my side.
After a while, I pull away and kiss her.
She's crying too.
I wipe her tears. Kiss her again.
Being apart again will be hard. But we will find each other.
Somehow.
I know it. I feel it.
I look at her one last time. Brush her cheek, gently.
Then I turn… and leap down from the branch.
«Hug the children for me. I love you,» I say.
And I run.
Before she can see me fall apart again.
The three Knights of the Golden Light are waiting for me.