The forest had changed. Every step forward felt like pressing deeper into a world that no longer remembered what it once was. The trees groaned with unseen pressure, and the air itself pressed down like a weighted cloth soaked in something invisible and cruel.
Neil walked ahead, scanning the shifting terrain with calm vigilance. Elara followed at his side, quiet and focused. Neither of them had spoken much since Calen's death. His final request hung between them, unspoken but heavy. Elara had tucked the pendant inside her shirt, fingers brushing it now and then, a motion so subtle Neil only noticed it when he stopped walking and glanced her way.
They were alone now. Truly alone.
Neil adjusted the pack over his shoulder and glanced at the distant shimmer of green on the horizon. The dome looked closer than it had ever been. A vague pulse in the air told him they were on the right path, but it was no longer just about reaching it. Not for him. He hadn't forgotten his people—his family. If they had been brought here, if they were somewhere behind the dome, then he needed to find them.
"I still want to find my kind," Neil said, breaking the silence.
Elara didn't respond immediately. She kept walking beside him, boots crunching over the cracked forest soil. "You think they're inside the dome?"
"Maybe." He exhaled slowly. "I just know I can't give up on them."
Elara nodded once, the motion precise. "Then we'll find them."
They walked in silence for a while longer. The day was darker than it should have been. Thick gray clouds rolled over the sky like bruises, blotting out the sun. From time to time, a distant rumble reminded them the storm hadn't truly left. Neil kept his senses tuned outward. His perception didn't stretch as far as it once had, but he could still track movement within a few hundred meters.
The energy in the world had grown thick, sluggish. He had to wade through it like a swimmer against current. And Elara felt it too—her breathing was slower, more measured, like she was conserving effort with every step.
During their next rest, they sat beneath a twisted arch of tree roots that curved over a small clearing. Neil sharpened a jagged blade of bone he'd taken from a previous kill, but his mind wasn't on the task.
"You said you wanted to help them," Elara said suddenly.
Neil looked up.
"The children," she clarified. Her voice was calm, but her eyes were distant. "You wanted to save them."
"I did."
"You couldn't." She looked at him then, studying his face. "But you still tried."
Neil said nothing.
Elara pulled her knees closer, arms wrapped loosely around them. "They weren't meant for this world. Not the way it is now. They were too soft. We were too soft."
"That's not their fault."
"No," she agreed. "But it is the truth."
Neil frowned. "You're saying it's better they died?"
"No," she said after a pause. "I'm saying there was no place for them in this world. They would have suffered more if they'd lived."
The words were hard. Brutally clean. But Neil could see they weren't spoken from malice. They were something she had carried with her quietly for some time. A slow realization that had finally broken the surface.
He leaned back against the roots. "I don't want to accept that."
"I don't either." She looked at him again. "But I think I already have."
They didn't speak again for a while. The air crackled faintly as thin threads of energy passed overhead like drifting lines of silver fire. Even the wind carried weight now.
Later, they trained. Not with weapons, but with movement and energy control. Elara adapted quickly, her footwork cleaner, her control smoother. Neil guided her, pointing out the flaws in her channels, helping her compress and release her energy more efficiently. There was still a massive gap between them, but she didn't flinch from it.
Afterward, they sat near a stream that shimmered with faint green hues under the darkened sky. Elara cupped the water in her hands and drank, her pendant briefly visible beneath her shirt.
"Do you ever wonder," she asked softly, "what it would have been like if we were stronger from the start?"
Neil considered the question. "Sometimes. But maybe it's not about how strong we were. Maybe it's about how far we can still go."
She gave a faint, tired smile. "Then let's keep going."
They both looked toward the dome, glowing faintly through the mist and shadow. It was still distant, still unreachable. But it felt closer than ever.
And under the same sky, they walked.
The day had darkened further by the time they left the stream behind. Though it wasn't raining, the damp in the air clung to their clothes, settling into the folds like a second skin. Neil took the lead again, his pace measured, quiet.
He had been checking the edges of his perception every few hours now. Each time, the result was the same. His ability to sense energy—once so sharp and far-reaching it had stretched kilometers—had narrowed again. It was subtle. From three hundred meters to two-eighty, then two-sixty. Now perhaps only two hundred. The shrinkage wasn't dramatic, but it was steady, like something folding inward.
Neil exhaled softly through his nose. The energy around them had changed. It was denser, richer, but not necessarily a blessing. His vision of it remained crisp—he could still see the currents swirl in the air, sliding over tree trunks and curling like mist through grass. But perception wasn't the same as understanding, and he was beginning to grasp that the very world itself was pressing in, making his expanded senses less effective with each passing day.
They stopped near a hollow ridge to rest. A fire crackled low between them, more for warmth than light. The dome pulsed distantly in the horizon's haze, emerald and silent.
Elara sat on a low rock, legs pulled up, her hands resting over her knees. She'd said little for most of the day. But now, in the stillness, her shoulders sagged with the weight she kept hidden from her face.
Neil crouched beside her, tending the fire. "You haven't asked about training today," he said quietly.
"I've been trying," Elara replied, voice soft. "But it feels like nothing is changing. I'm stuck. No matter how I push."
Neil glanced at her and narrowed his eyes, letting his vision shift.
Her Core shone clearly inside her, a brilliant, spiraling shape of white and blue light at her center. And around it—pressure. Like a filled container ready to burst. Elara was on the edge of breaking through. It was obvious in the way her energy trembled, packed tightly within her frame. Another day, maybe two, and she would step into the next stage.
But she didn't seem to notice it.
"You're close," Neil said after a pause.
Elara looked at him, puzzled. "Close to what?"
He hesitated. "Muscle Sinew."
She blinked. "That's not possible. I haven't felt anything. No change. No shift in the flow."
Neil didn't answer right away. He stared into the fire, considering the difference he'd just noticed. Elara couldn't feel the pressure inside her. She couldn't sense the saturation of her Core, the way he could read his own energy flow with perfect clarity. It wasn't just her. The other elves had been the same. Even the most disciplined among them had moved with instinct and practice, not direct perception.
They couldn't feel their own energy the same way he could.
Neil filed the observation away, keeping it to himself.
"You'll break through soon," he said instead. "Maybe tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Just… don't push. Let it come to you."
She gave him a long look. "And you? Do you feel any closer to something new?"
He almost smiled. "I'm trying to understand what I already have before I reach for more."
Elara nodded. "A wise answer. Not the one I expected."
"I've learned the hard way." His tone was quiet. "Power without control just leads to pain."
The wind picked up, rustling through the leaves overhead. The fire dimmed slightly, then flared again.
"Do you still think about them?" she asked.
Neil didn't have to ask who she meant.
"Yes," he said simply.
She looked toward the trees. "I used to think if we were careful, if we followed every rule, we could keep them safe. But this world doesn't care about caution. It only listens to power."
"I know."
"Then you understand why I have to change."
Neil looked at her, really looked, and saw that same tightness behind her eyes. The mask hadn't cracked again. But it was thinner now. Worn.
The fire crackled low between them. Around them, the night crept in deeper.
Neil leaned back and turned his eyes toward the horizon. "Then let's both keep changing."
Elara didn't reply, but after a moment, she reached for a stick and gently stirred the fire.
They sat that way for a long time, the world shifting quietly around them.