The sunlight came through the window gently, golden and soft, like it had been waiting a long time.
Lyena opened her eyes.
The ceiling above her was painted with stars - still there, still shining, unchanged.
But she wasn't the same.
A quiet breath escaped her lips.
Then another.
She blinked slowly, trying to remember where she was.
The room felt familiar - not because of memory, but because of warmth.
A figure sat nearby, robes faded and calm.
He had been there the whole time.
Elder Solarin.
When he saw her eyes open, he leaned forward slightly, but said nothing.
He waited.
Lyena turned her head just a little, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Where am I?"
"Safe," Solarin said gently.
He paused.
Then added, in that same quiet tone:
"What's your name?"
She hesitated only for a moment.
Then said,
"Lyena."
Elder Solarin froze.
Only for a second.
But inside him, something shifted.
Lyena.
He remembered the letter.
The one the Angel King had brought him a year ago.
The words still etched into memory like they had been carved instead of written.
Her name is Lyena.
She sings to trees without knowing why.
Light comes to her when she cries.
She makes me believe.
Solarin looked at her differently now - not with fear, not with awe, but with something deeper.
Recognition.
But he said nothing.
Not yet.
Later that day, Lyena joined Isara and Serenya in the gardens.
Isara was loud, fast, and full of laughter.
Serenya was quiet, calm, and always close.
Lyena didn't talk much at first.
But when Serenya took her hand, she didn't let go.
And when Isara pulled her into a race around the fountain, she didn't say no.
The three of them sat under the tree near sunset, legs tangled and hair messy from the wind.
They didn't speak about the past.
They didn't ask about the future.
But they stayed beside each other - and it was enough.
That evening, Lyena stood in the doorway of the candlelit library.
Elder Solarin sat reading a scroll.
He looked up when he heard her footsteps.
"Can I ask something?" she said.
"Always."
She hesitated only once.
Then asked:
"Will you train me?"
And in the silence that followed, something shifted again.
Not in the world-
But in the path ahead.
End of Chapter 18 - The Question That Waited