And Princess Elisaré Veilwind, who had left home to experience life, found herself heading toward a world that might decide whether she kept hers.
Behind her, the hunters followed.
Three ships cut through the dark, keeping just enough distance to avoid looking desperate and just enough pressure to make sure the Verdant Star never felt safe.
Their ships were not beautiful like the Verdant Star. They were built with hard angles, black plating, and narrow red lights along their sides. They looked like blades that had learned how to fly.
No living wood.
No crystal gardens.
No quiet elegance.
Only function.
Only pursuit.
Inside the lead vessel, the air was dry, warm, and tense.
The bridge carried none of the softness found aboard Elven ships. Metal lined every surface. Consoles projected cold light across expressionless faces. The faint hum of machinery was constant, steady, and practical.
No one spoke unless needed.
