Just as Silmarien had said, the killings truly stopped.
For an entire month, there was not a single incident.
The forest breathed again. Fear slowly loosened its grip, and relief spread through elven society like morning dew. Whispers turned into praise, and praise hardened into conviction.
Prince Silmarien had done what his brother could not.
Many began to speak of his diligence, his quiet resolve, his willingness to risk his life for the people. Even elders who had once stood firmly behind Aetherion began, one by one, to switch sides.
They came bearing gifts.
Rare wines. Elementsl crystals. Ancient scrolls. Tokens of loyalty wrapped in silk and humility.
On this particular day, Silmarien had just finished hosting one such elder.
The old elf stood before him, hands clasped together, bowing deeply.
"Your Highness," the elder said with emotion thick in his voice, "the people sleep peacefully again because of you. The forest itself feels calmer. We thank you—truly."
