Silmarien walked beside Chiron as the air beyond the Veil shimmered with muted colors—neither sky nor void, but something in between. After a moment, he spoke, voice low.
"Where exactly are we heading?"
Chiron did not slow. His gaze was fixed forward, unreadable.
"A remote place," he replied simply. "Even beyond the Veil, the Zodiac Families and the Holy Church do not own everything."
He glanced sideways at Silmarien, a faint curve at the edge of his lips.
"They are conquerors, not gardeners. They only keep what they believe is fruitful. Anything deemed barren, useless, or inconvenient… they abandon."
Silmarien listened closely.
"One such place," Chiron continued, "is the old ancestral ground of the elves. From a thousand years ago—before your ancestor's pride sealed itself into a Cardinal Forbidden Zone after losing the war."
Understanding flickered in Silmarien's eyes. He nodded slowly.
Then he leaned down, picking something off the ashen ground.
A wanted poster.
