Lúthien rests her cheek against her fist, watching the ancient spatial gate pulse beneath the Caelithrien skyscraper. 'I wonder if V and those humans reserved a spot...' Silver light fills the enormous circular structure before folding inward, revealing a distant section of Miralithien through its center. Several transport carriages pass through from the capital, followed by workers carrying crates, rolls of enchanted fabric, and enough construction equipment to rebuild half the surrounding district.
The opening remains stable for several seconds before the image of Miralithien collapses into silver light, leaving another group of workers waiting for the next activation.
Caelithra has grown louder every day since Lúthien returned. Temporary markets cover several plazas surrounding the gate, viewing platforms rise above buildings that normally remain empty, and barriers divide the streets leading toward the outer roads. The Elerondar family has filled entire districts with foreign food, alcohol, decorations, and products they expect visitors to purchase once the city officially opens.
Far beyond the city, the World Tree rises over the horizon. Its colossal trunk appears close beneath the enormous canopy, yet thousands of miles separate Caelithra from its roots. Nothing but clean fields of green grass and the occasional stretch of wildflowers span the distance between the city and the tree, where a massive waterfall pours from the bark into a river that flows through the surrounding lands.
Lúthien remembers watching the previous migration from one of the highest terraces in the city. She remembers the enormous ethereal butterflies gathering around the World Tree until their luminous bodies covered its trunk and branches. Their wings carried shifting colors resembling fragments of the night sky, while astral dust drifted from them and spread across the continent like a second atmosphere.
Within moments, millions of herbs emerged from the ground.
That was ten years ago, and nearly everything about the current meeting sounds identical to what she heard back then. Workers require escorts, storage sites need additional guards, the Elerondar family wants more space for visitors, and the Thalanoril family wants greater control over the soldiers assigned to the city.
Lúthien releases a quiet breath and sinks farther into her chair.
"Current estimates place our remaining COD capacity slightly above three million specimens," Ithervain Sairith explains from the opposite side of the crystal table. The family's head advisor moves his finger across the floating display, causing several storage facilities to appear above it. "That includes the devices recalled from Miralithien and those purchased from the Magic Tower over the previous two years."
One of the senior workers looks through the documents in front of him. "Three million will be enough for the initial classification. Ordinary specimens can be transferred into standard preservation containers once their properties are confirmed."
"What about the older models?" Urelithë asks, lifting her greenish-blue eyes from her notes. Her dark brown hair rests over one shoulder, thin golden highlights catching beneath the sunlight. "The western facility reported nearly fourteen thousand failures."
She exhales and taps the end of her pen against her lips. "Of course it did. It would be strange if something went smoothly for once." Rolling a strand of hair around her finger, she glances back toward the projection. "Once this is over, I'm disappearing into a cabin."
"Most only required replacement cores," Ithervain answers. "Fewer than two thousand were beyond repair, and the Magic Tower has already provided substitutes."
He changes the projection, revealing rows of narrow glass devices covered in silver runes. Each COD is built to preserve a single plant from the moment it is collected, suspending its biological and magical activity regardless of the conditions it normally requires to survive.
"The northern and western classification teams will each receive six hundred thousand," Ithervain continues. "The remaining devices will be divided between the southern range and the mobile collection units. If one region produces more high-quality specimens than expected, reserves can be transported through the temporary gates."
Vaelthion Caelithrien remains silent at the head of the table. His long golden-blond hair is tied behind his back, revealing the upper section of the sword resting against his chair. He appears to be studying the storage routes, but his sky-blue eyes have not followed the projection for several minutes.
The family is prepared for the harvest. They have more CODs than they possessed during the previous migration, additional classification teams, improved barriers, and centuries of records predicting where certain categories of herbs are most likely to emerge.
None of it matters if war reaches them first.
Vaelthion presses two fingers against his temple as Ithervain replaces the storage display with a map of the harvesting range. No one else in the room knows that several dark-elf groups have crossed the mountains during the previous month. Most citizens still believe the dark elves remain satisfied within their ravine city, separated from the rest of the continent through their own laws and centuries of isolation.
Most members of the royal houses are eventually told the truth once they reach their two-hundredth birthday. Everyone else is raised on a history fabricated thousands of years ago by the Thalanoril family and the high royal family.
Only the heads of the Four Great Families, the highest members of the royal army, and a handful of royal officials understand what truly exists beyond those mountains. Even fewer know how badly the situation has deteriorated.
The Thalanoril family has failed to contain them. The king is weakening, royal commanders are concealing losses, and noble families throughout the continent have begun pressuring one another for alliances without publicly admitting why. Everyone can feel something changing, even if most have no idea what that change is.
Once the truth becomes impossible to hide, some nobles will prepare for war while others will prepare for a coup.
"The hunter family confirmed this morning that they cannot send another unit," Ithervain says, pulling Vaelthion's attention back toward the meeting. Several positions along the outer range turn red. "Monster activity near the edge of the continent has increased beyond their original projections. Every available hunter is either protecting the surrounding towns or tracking creatures moving inland."
"They have already sent forty-three hunters," one of the officers reminds him. "Their family head and two of his children intend to join them once the migration begins."
"Forty-three across this much territory is nothing," Seralúmë responds. Her semi-short dark brown hair shifts around her neck as she studies the map. "Especially when half of them will be occupied by monsters before the final wave arrives."
"They warned us that would happen," Ithervain says. "They do not enjoy operating this far from their territory to begin with. With the rumors surrounding the king, they are even less willing to leave the outer settlements undefended."
Lúthien's ear twitches at the mention of the hunters. She knows enough about that family to understand why no one enjoys having them in Caelithrien territory. They charge absurd amounts, ignore nearly every formality expected from an elven noble, and tend to treat property restrictions as mild suggestions whenever something interests them.
Still, listening to everyone complain about numbers when they have already hired professional hunters seems pointless.
"The barriers will stop ordinary trespassers," Urelithë says while writing something beside the map. "They should also prevent tourists from accidentally leaving the approved routes."
Ithervain expands several locations marked around the range. "We have identified at least nine powerful individuals expected to attend under false names. Three possess outstanding warrants in foreign countries, while two are associated with organizations known to traffic restricted alchemical materials."
"And those are merely the ones careless enough to be identified. Humans are such pests," Seralúmë mutters.
The barriers cannot cover every stretch of land beneath the World Tree's influence. Even if they could, the Caelithrien family expects criminals powerful enough to break through them. The migration produces herbs capable of restoring destroyed organs, suppressing incurable diseases, strengthening magical affinities, or extending the lives of individuals already approaching their natural limits. For some people, stealing a single flower is worth fighting the Caelithrien family directly.
Vaelthion exhales and dismisses several proposed patrol routes with one movement of his hand. "There is nothing else to discuss. Strengthen the barriers around the confirmed growth regions and assign mobile units to the gaps. Anyone powerful enough to cross without being delayed will have to be confronted when they appear."
"That risks allowing them to reach the herbs first," one of the officers warns.
"We do not have enough soldiers to prevent it. Keep our strongest fighters unassigned and send them wherever a barrier falls. I will enter the central range with Urelithë, while my eldest son commands the western response units. Seralúmë will oversee the storage sites and temporary gates."
Lúthien lifts her head slightly at the mention of her older siblings. Between her brother and Urelithë, the family already has more than enough people willing to spend their lives attending meetings and protecting herbs. She still does not understand why her mother keeps dragging her into the same discussions when she has contributed nothing since sitting down.
Seralúmë turns toward her. "You have been unusually quiet, Lúthien."
Lúthien glances at her mother before looking across the table. "I have nothing to say, Mother."
Her sister's pen stops.
Urelithë calmly finishes the sentence in her notes before closing the document. She rises from her chair and gathers several reports against her chest while her greenish-blue eyes settle on Lúthien.
"Show some respect to our mother, Lú. I have spent this meeting taking notes because I intend to help this family prepare," Urelithë says. "I'm leaving because Father assigned me to inspect the central range. What exactly do you intend to do to help us?"
Lúthien straightens slightly in her chair. "I plan to help in combat."
"You are so mentally impoverished to think you could be of any use in a fight. You are still far too young to participate in something like that; if you had not abandoned the path of magic, perhaps it could have been different."
Urelithë inclines her head toward their parents before walking away from the table. The doors open at her approach, allowing two officers to follow her into the corridor before closing behind them.
Lúthien watches the empty doorway for several seconds. "She could have just said she was taking notes."
"Why won't you stop these childish games?" Seralúmë asks.
"Because none of you need me here," Lúthien answers. "Urelithë and big brother are already helping, and Father just assigned both of them to the range."
"That does not free you from your responsibilities."
Lúthien grips the armrest and looks away. She recognizes the direction of the conversation before her mother can continue. Every discussion about responsibility eventually reaches the same demand, regardless of whether it begins with herbs, soldiers, the academy, or the future of their family.
Seralúmë folds her hands over the table. "The Thalanoril family is still willing to overlook the humiliation caused by the rumors surrounding you and that human. If you end this foolish resistance now, the marriage can proceed without further damage to either family."
"He has a name, you know. And maybe those aren't rumors, Mother." 'Oh my god, I can't believe I'm saying this. I'm so sorry, V.'
"Oh, please. As if my daughter could ever fall for a human, of all things. Stop using him already; it paints our family in a bad light."
Lúthien's fingers tighten. "I'm not using him." 'I'm sorry, V. I'm completely using you.'
"A human entered your room in the middle of the night before returning to his human territory, and you allowed everyone to believe whatever they wanted afterward. These rumors give you a bad image."
"They already believed something was happening before that."
"And you encouraged them because you thought embarrassing us would make the Thalanoril family abandon the arrangement."
Lúthien pushes herself upright as the remaining officers at the table lower their eyes. "Maybe they should abandon it. He's a horrible person, and everyone here knows it."
"You barely know him."
"I know enough. He treats everyone beneath him like servants, he has injured people simply because they annoyed him, and he spent an entire dinner explaining which parts of my life I would be allowed to keep after marrying him."
"Lúthien," Seralúmë warns.
"No, I'm tired of this!" Lúthien rises so quickly that her chair strikes the floor behind her. "Every time this family needs something, you bring up that marriage. More soldiers, better relations with the royal family, protection for the fields, it always ends with me throwing away the rest of my life so everyone else can feel more secure."
Seralúmë's greenish-blue eyes begin glowing as mana gathers around her, causing the plants along the walls to bend toward the table. "Lower your voice."
"You cannot force me to marry someone I despise simply because his family has soldiers. I am protected by the academy, and I will not withdraw just because you finally realized your arrangement is falling apart."
Before Seralúmë can respond, Vaelthion lifts one hand.
"Enough."
His voice remains calm, yet the room immediately becomes silent.
Vaelthion leans back and closes his eyes, pressing his fingers against the headache growing behind them. For years, he has agreed that Lúthien does not need to know the truth. She remains at the academy, possesses no authority over the family's soldiers, and has little interest in Caelithrien politics. Telling her would only risk spreading information the royal family has killed to keep hidden.
However, she will eventually need to prepare for what is coming.
The secret may only be weeks away from collapsing on its own, but revealing it now still carries unnecessary risk. Lúthien has spent too little time around the internal affairs of the great families, and it would not be difficult for someone more experienced to manipulate what she knows.
'No. It is still too early.'
Vaelthion opens his eyes and looks toward his youngest daughter, allowing a small smile to appear.
"That human boy... I wish to meet him. Why don't you bring him here after the festival?"