The sun's first rays stretched across the clearing, soft gold washing the forest in quiet warmth. The air still smelled of ash and blood — a reminder of what had been lost — yet now, beneath the morning light, there was something else blooming in the silence…
Hope.
The elves — light and dark alike — stood frozen, every breath held, every gaze locked onto the scene before them.
The Elf Queen — ruler of the radiant woods, the voice of the Mother Tree — had bowed her head.
To a dark elf.
To Sylthara.
Her voice still lingered in the air, trembling with sincerity:
"Will you… be willing to forgive — and live with us again?"
Luca's heart thudded in his chest as he watched. His vision still blurred at the edges from exhaustion, but even that wouldn't pull him away from this moment.
Are they… finally going to reunite?
His eyes softened, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
This is it. The first true victory tonight wasn't killing cultists — it was this.
