Kailon wrapped the stack of papers with care, like swaddling a fledgling, then tucked it close to his chest; satisfaction warmed his face like sunrise.

“Many thanks, Your Majesty. Rest easy—once you step into our realm, we’ll repay you twice over.”

The Queen smiled, a crescent moon behind thin clouds.

“I appreciate the King’s kindness, but the city is a tangled forest.

So many postwar wounds need mending.

I’m afraid my hands and heart are both too full.”

Kailon feigned surprise, a fish splashing at the surface.

“Oh my, so Her Majesty won’t make the banquet?”

Haidra played along, two reeds swaying to the same wind.

“What shall we do?

His Majesty charged us to bring you, proper and present.

Could you help us save face?”

Medith watched their back‑and‑forth and found the seams, like paint peeling on a stage prop.

The Queen, amused, covered her lips and laughed like bells in rain.

Knowing they’d been seen through, Haidra and Kailon bowed their heads, shame falling like a shadow.

Heat climbed Haidra’s ears; her face flushed like a ripe apple, tempting enough to bite.

Annoyance pooled in Kailon’s stomach like cold water.

He’d argued for a more winding path, like walking the ridge, but Haidra pushed to press their status flat as a stamp.

Treat them as fools, and now we both wear the mud, he thought, the words clattering like stones.

But the Queen didn’t anger; her voice spread like calm over a lake.

“Be at ease, both of you.

We decided already.

Medith will stand in my stead.

I trust the King won’t fault me?”

Kailon snapped back like a bowstring.

“Of course. Commander Medith is capable and keen, trusted by Your Majesty.

I believe His Majesty will be very pleased.”

“Then it’s settled,” the Queen said, the matter sealed like wax.

“Stay tonight.

At dawn, like birds at first light, set out for the kingdom.”

“Then we obey rather than offend,” they said, and rose to bow, their respect falling in clean lines like rain.

After the “meeting” dissolved like mist, the three left the Queen’s palace and stepped into tree shade cool as river stones.

Kailon excused himself to tour the city’s vistas, a swallow taking wing, and left Haidra and Medith alone.

“Haidra—allow me to call you that,” Medith said, bracing her hands behind her on the grass like anchors.

“Of course,” Haidra answered, voice steady as a bowstring.

“Then I’ll call you Medith.”

Medith’s smile bloomed like a lotus in clear water.

“Haidra, how much do you know about the legends of the Divine Stone?”

“Well...” Haidra’s gaze drifted like smoke.

“The Ancestor Master brought it.

It counters magic and grants us the means to live.

That’s about all I know.”

“Then tell me—why hasn’t the Divine Stone been mined empty after nearly a thousand years?”

Medith’s words fell like pebbles into a well.

“Because the Divine Stone is inexhaustible,” Haidra said, as if repeating a carving in stone.

“That was proven long ago, like sunrise following night.”

“Doesn’t it feel strange?” Medith’s brow drew tight, a storm gathering above the hills.

“Why did the Ancestor Master bring such a stone?

If it was only to arm the ancients, why not bring a small shard and be done?”

Haidra frowned, a blade catching light at an odd angle.

“Your angle is sharp.

But that’s not for us to judge.

No one can prove those age‑old tales through the fog of time.

Shouldn’t your Elf Clan know more than we do?”

“Do you know what I think?” Medith asked, voice soft as wind in pines.

“The Divine Stone is some thing we’ll never fully grasp.

It’s a gift, and it’s hope.

The Ancestor Master didn’t give it to us for... this kind of use.

You know what I mean, don’t you?”

Shock flashed across Haidra’s perfect face like lightning across a dark ridge.

“You... you mean—”

“No. Of course I don’t mean that,” Medith cut in, the denial quick as a shuttered lantern.

“It just leaves me with a long sigh, that’s all.”

She saw it in Haidra’s eyes—the thought would never be accepted, because it would be the same as burning her home to ash.

Haidra let out a breath like steam from a kettle.

“Is your Elf Clan always this sentimental?”

Medith hugged her knees and smoothed her skirt so no edge flew up, modest as a folded fan.

“By the way—your nation... or rather, the other nations as well—do you all fight with Impado?”

Haidra hesitated, a leaf trembling before it falls, then spoke.

“Yes. Except for the Western Kingdom, the others are much like us.

Impado is strong—so strong it’s beyond our imagining.

Add Impado to an arrow, and it hits like magic yet devours magic, a hawk swallowing lightning.

Fix Impado to a ladder, and it turns into a siege ladder that blocks even meteoric strikes, a ramp braced like a mountain.”

“Add Impado to any weapon, and it unleashes terrifying force, like a flood snapping bridges.”

“Since Regido appeared, the Divine Stone’s power has only grown, like a river in spate.

When Impado alone first rose, the continent nearly cracked apart, like ice under a thaw.

Now, I fear the storm will be worse.”

Melancholy touched Medith’s face like twilight.

She gathered her questions like strings on a zither; she would use this moment to unknit as many knots as she could.

“Haidra, one more.

Do the four Divine Stones share the same abilities, or have your developments diverged?”

Her tone was a fine needle through silk.

Haidra smiled thinly, a line of light on water.

“You’re sharp.

The four Divine Stones aren’t the same.

Take our Eastern Nation—we’re known for team tactics, like geese flying in a V.

Our Impado leans toward your Wind Magic: swift and slicing.

But ever since [Heavenly Edge] fell, we’ve felt our Divine Stone grow dim, like a lamp losing oil.”

“[Heavenly Edge]? The Divine Stone growing dim?” Medith asked, the words hanging like frost.

“I’m sorry,” Haidra said, lips sealing like a clasp.

“I can’t answer that now.

It’s our secret.”

“All right. I won’t spread it.”

Medith didn’t soften her gaze, a hunter’s eye steady on the trail.

“Last question—about the Ancestor Master.

How much do you know?”

She intended to squeeze value from their good fortune, like pressing oil from seed.

“Him...” Haidra’s confusion was plain as an open field.

“Sorry. I can’t answer.

We don’t know more than you.”

Medith sighed, a reed bending to the wind; this riddle wouldn’t open today.

“Commander!”

Phiby and the others came running from afar, feet drumming like rain on eaves.

Phiby leaped into Medith’s arms and nuzzled like a kitten, then spotted Haidra.

She jolted back, startled, the moment bright as a sparrow’s flutter; it was her first time this close to Haidra herself.

Haidra fondly patted Phiby’s small head, then teased her pink ear between fingers, like rolling a peach petal.

“Ticklish, ticklish,” Phiby squeaked, wriggled free, and hid behind Medith like a fawn behind a tree.

They both laughed, chuckles bubbling like spring water.

Warmth rose in Medith; her regard for the woman before her grew like ivy up a wall.

She waved back to her people, then took her leave of Haidra and melted into the cheerful crowd like a drop into the sea.