One Month in the Elven Forest
Kael had moved into Luna's cottage shortly after waking in the clinic, taking the small spare room adjacent to hers. The cottage itself was nestled within the hollowed trunk of an ancient silverheart tree, its roots so vast they arched like bridges over parts of the forest floor. Bioluminescent moss clung to the ceiling beams, casting a pale blue glow at night. Even now, the scent of lavender sap and fireleaf oil lingered in the air—an elven trick, Luna had told him, to promote dreamless sleep.
But for Kael, the nights stretched endlessly, and his dreams stretched longer—a turbulent sea where past and present collided. The screams he'd heard, both remembered and imagined, reverberated through his mind like ghosts refusing to rest. They clung to him like soot after a fire.
A violent twitch seized his body. Then—a strangled scream tore from his throat as he jolted upright, sheets tangled around his sweat-slicked limbs. The night terrors were worsening, each one more vivid than the last.
Before his panicked gasps could subside, the door flew open. Luna burst in, moonlight glinting off her silver hair as she crossed the room in three swift strides. Without hesitation, she climbed onto the bed and pulled him into a fierce embrace, her arms anchoring him to the present.
"Breathe," she murmured against his temple, her voice steady as an ancient oak. "Just breathe. You're here. You're safe."
He clung to her like driftwood in a storm. Through the open window, night frogs sang from the marshes. The whispering wind rustled the veils of shimmering silkflower trees beyond the glade. Gradually, the hammering of his heart slowed to match the rhythm of hers, the phantom screams fading into the forest's nocturnal chorus.
Kael's voice trembled in the darkness. "I-I'm sorry—"
Luna tightened her embrace, cutting off his apology with a gentle but firm shake of her head. "Hush now," she murmured, her breath warm against his hair. "You've endured what no child should ever face."
The cottage settled around them, its wooden beams creaking softly in the night breeze. Outside, the ethereal light of the twin moons filtered through the treetop canopy, casting silver patterns across the moss-lined floor. Luna remained holding him, her steady heartbeat a quiet drum beneath his ear, until Kael's ragged breathing gradually slowed to match hers. As the last traces of tension left his body, sleep finally claimed them both—her arms still wrapped protectively around him, a silent shield against the night's ghosts.
Two Months Later
Two months had passed since the elves pulled Kael from the river's icy grasp—two months of healing, of nightmares, of learning to stand again. The elven healers had used a rare practice called Soulweaving, knitting his torn body with threadlike strands of mana pulled from moonroot crystals. During the worst of it, he'd hovered between fevered dreams and silken quiet, tended by Luna and the acolytes of the Lifebough Temple.
Today, he would meet Elnur, the village elder, for only the second time since his rescue.
The meeting hall was carved from the bones of the Great Tree—a colossal silverheart older than the mountains, its trunk wide enough to house a city. Its walls shimmered with runes of protection and memory, enchanted to whisper the voices of past leaders during rites of passage. As Kael limped beneath its ancient archways, dappled sunlight filtered through crystalline leaves overhead, turning the air golden-green.
Elnur stood beneath its arched boughs, his silver-threaded robes shimmering faintly with woven magic.
"Good morning, Kael," the elder said, his voice like wind through ancient oaks—strong, yet calm. "You've recovered well."
Kael instinctively moved to kneel, but the thick, gelatinous healing magic encasing his broken leg made the motion impossible. A sharp twinge shot up his thigh, and he gritted his teeth.
Elnur raised a hand. "None of that. I'm no king—just a guardian of these woods."
"Thank you, Village Head." Kael swallowed. "I'm aware our first meeting wasn't… ideal."
A chuckle rumbled in Elnur's chest. "You were half-drowned, bleeding out, and screaming for your parents. I'd say you were entitled to some discourtesy." He stepped closer, the scent of sun-warmed cedar and something distinctly other clinging to him. "But to the heart of it: I've watched you these past weeks. There's potential in you, Kael. I would train you myself."
The words struck like a physical blow.
Images flashed behind Kael's eyes—his mother's desperate scream, his father's sword clattering to the cliffside stones, Sylvie's tear-streaked face. They could still be out there. But the truth was a knife in his gut: as he was now, weak and broken, he'd never survive the search.
The silence stretched. Somewhere beyond the hall, a lark sang.
"Okay," Kael finally said, the word heavy with both resignation and resolve. "It would be an honor." He bowed, shallow but sincere, and turned to leave.
As he limped into the sunlight, the weight of his choice settled on his shoulders. Training meant time—time his family might not have. But without it, he was no good to anyone.
The path ahead was shrouded in mist, but for the first time since the fall, there was a flicker of direction.
Three Months Later
Dinner had been quiet—until Luna noticed it. The restless tap of Kael's fingers against the table, the way his eyes kept darting to the window. The candlelight flickered over the carved wooden walls of the cottage, casting dancing shadows between shelves filled with dried herbs, scrolls, and little trinkets of elven make.
He needed to move. To live again.
"Let's go somewhere tomorrow," she said, setting down her fork. "Just you and me."
Kael shot up from his chair so fast it nearly toppled over. "Yes!" He seized her hands, his grip tight with excitement. "Let's do something!"
Luna blinked, startled—then, after a heartbeat, laughter bubbled between them, bright and unguarded. It was the kind of laugh that peeled away months of grief, even if only for a moment.
Early the Next Morning
Luna packed their lunch into a woven bag made of sunspun thread, adding two sets of swimwear and dried crescent fruits wrapped in silkleaf. "Kael!" she called from the hearth room. "Don't forget your shorts that I bought you!"
Kael stuffed his into his pack with exaggerated groaning. "Why do we need these?"
She shot him a sly smile over her shoulder. "It's a surprise."
He sighed—but the grin tugging at his lips betrayed his curiosity.
They slipped into the village's hushed streets, where glowing fungi lit the cobblestone paths and the occasional sentinel glided through the trees above. The great canopy rustled with the sounds of dawn-birds greeting the morning.
"We'll head south," Luna said, "to the grass plains."
Kael nodded, and they walked in easy silence, the morning air crisp with the scent of pine and dew. The elven forest gradually gave way to open space, trees thinning until only a few ancient sentinels remained.
Kael froze at the sight.
Rolling hills stretched endlessly, blanketed in emerald grass that shimmered under the sun like woven silk. Horned rabbits bounded freely, their playful hops undisturbed by fear. Overhead, hawks wheeled in lazy circles, their cries echoing across the sky.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Luna asked, watching his wonder with a soft smile.
"Yeah," he breathed. "It is."
After a moment, they pressed on, following a gravel path that wound up a tree-speckled mountainside. Kael spotted silverpine and highwillow trees clinging to craggy ledges.
"Almost there," Luna promised.
The sound reached Kael first—the rush of water, powerful yet serene. Then he saw it.
A waterfall tumbled down the rocks in thin, elegant streams, each one catching the sunlight like a cascade of liquid crystal. At its base, a pool shimmered blue and clear, ringed by moss-covered stones and wildflowers that only bloomed in moonlight.
Kael's eyes widened, the usual shadows within them replaced by something bright, alive.
Luna tugged his arm. "I'll change behind those bushes. You stay here."
Minutes later, she emerged in a crimson bikini that clung to her frame. Kael's face burned.
"Perv," she teased, her grin wicked.
"N-No!" He sputtered, eyes darting to the ground. "You're the one dressing like that in front of a kid!"
Luna laughed, the sound bubbling with amusement. "I'm only fifteen, you know. Barely older than you."
Kael gaped. "But you—you act so…"
"Mature?" She winked. "Elves grow up fast."
Their banter dissolved into laughter before they plunged into the water, the cool embrace of the pool washing away the last of their hesitations. It wrapped around Kael like silk, cool and cleansing. He swam in widening circles, occasionally splashing Luna and receiving splashes tenfold in return.
For a few precious hours, there was no past. No pain. Just sun and water and laughter echoing off the cliffs.
Later, they lay on their towels, the sun warm on their skin as they shared their meal—sunfruit slices, braided honey-bread, and smoked rootfish wrapped in moonleaf.
"Thank you," Kael murmured, rubbing his neck. "For the food. And… for today. It was fun."
Luna took his hand, her fingers lacing with his. "I'm glad you came with me."
Night had fallen by the time they returned to the cottage. Exhausted but content, they collapsed onto their beds—and for the first time in months, Kael's sleep was untroubled by nightmares.
The First Morning of Training
One month had passed in a blur of healing and restless nights. Now, on the first morning of his training, Kael walked beside Luna through the dappled sunlight of the elven forest. The air hummed with the scent of blooming moonpetals and damp earth.
Birdsong fluttered overhead like scattered notes on a breeze. A family of moss-foxes darted across their path, disappearing into the underbrush.
"Kael," Luna began, her voice uncharacteristically hesitant, "you're… special." She glanced around before continuing. "I was ordered not to tell you this, but for the past six months, while you slept, I've been using my diagnostic magic to monitor your body." Her fingers twitched at her sides. "What I saw was unlike anything I've ever witnessed. When I showed Elnur, he commanded nightly checkups."
Kael's stomach twisted. "Is that why he wants to train me?"
Luna's nod sent a chill down his spine.
"Do you know what you saw?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Only fragments. There's something in you—an ancient force coiled beneath your skin. Like a storm waiting to break."
They reached the edge of the training grounds as the rhythmic clash of steel echoed through the trees. Through the parting foliage, Kael saw a spectacle that stole his breath...
"Ah, Kael! You made it!" Elnur's voice boomed across the field as he strode toward them.
Kael's breath caught as he took in the scene. The training grounds were unlike any he'd imagined—a wide clearing ringed by stone pillars carved with glowing runes, each humming faintly with protective enchantments. Elven warriors moved with precise elegance, sparring in pairs atop soft earth woven with warded sigils to reduce injury.
And in the center of it all was her.
The lone elf girl danced across the practice field, her movements liquid grace. Her raven-black hair—an anomaly among the usual silvers and golds—shimmered like spilled ink in the morning light. Her limbs moved in a blur of speed and artistry, blade slicing arcs through the air as she struck at invisible foes with surgical precision. Each turn of her heel sent dust swirling, each parry echoed like song on the wind.
Kael stood mesmerized.
Beside him, Luna leaned close and whispered, "That's Lena."
He blinked. "Lena? The one who—?"
Luna nodded. "You've seen her only briefly, but... she's saved more lives than most of the warriors here. She doesn't speak much—especially to outsiders. Just be patient."
Kael swallowed and nodded as Elnur approached, his robes fluttering behind him like falling leaves.
Luna exchanged quiet words with the elder before retreating, leaving Kael standing alone beneath the boughs.
"How are the injuries?" Elnur asked, eyeing Kael's once-broken leg.
"All healed and ready," Kael replied, rolling his shoulders. His muscles ached already from anxiety, but he forced a grin.
The dark-haired elf approached without sound. Up close, her violet eyes burned with an intensity that made Kael's pulse stutter. She stood straight-backed, her expression unreadable.
"I'm Lena," she said, voice cool as mountain runoff. "We've met before—when you were bleeding out from that Dragonhunter's attack." Her gaze cut through him. "You screamed so loudly, it nearly drew another one."
Kael flinched. But before he could respond, she turned on her heel and returned to the training circle, leaving him stunned.
"I'll explain after training," Elnur murmured before clapping his hands. "What weapon do you wield?"
Kael straightened. "I'm decent with a spear."
"Good!" Elnur tossed him a practice weapon—its haft shimmered with strange runes that pulsed gently against his palms. "Because Lena here is going to show you just how 'decent' you really are."
The First Lesson
The first lesson began not with drills, but with survival.
Lena moved like a shadow given form. Her practice sword became a blur as she pressed Kael backward across the circle. Her movements were devoid of wasted effort—each strike precise, each feint lethal.
Kael barely blocked in time. Her next blow knocked the wind from him.
Within moments, his back hit the dirt, the air forced from his lungs with a dull thud.
"Again," Elnur commanded.
Kael scrambled to his feet, limbs aching, pride wounded. He adjusted his grip and lunged, only for Lena to side-step and sweep his legs with infuriating ease.
She smirked—just barely—but it was there. The first emotion she'd shown. It lit a fire in his chest.
He charged again.
By day's end, every muscle screamed, but something else stirred beneath the exhaustion—the faintest spark of understanding, of growth. And as the sun dipped below the trees, Kael realized: this was only the beginning.
The Truth of Lena
The last echoes of clashing steel faded as Elnur called an end to training. "Lena, your skill remains unmatched," he said with a nod before turning to Kael. "And you—today you surprised me. Good work."
Lena turned without a word, but Kael lingered, his legs trembling beneath him, the runes of the spear still faintly glowing from contact with his own mana.
The question that had burned in his mind since morning finally spilled out. "You promised to tell me about Lena."
Elnur's usual composure fractured—just for a heartbeat—before he schooled his features.
"She's your age," he began, voice uncharacteristically heavy, "but where you lost your family in an instant, Lena has been losing pieces of herself for two years."
He sighed and rubbed his temple.
"When we found you that day, it was Lena who dragged your broken body from the riverbank while arrows flew overhead."
Kael frowned. "Then why does she look at me like I'm poison?"
The elder's silver eyes darkened. "I can show you, but it will hurt."
When Kael nodded, Elnur placed cool fingers against his temples. "Brace yourself."
Memory Unfolds
The forest became a blur of green and gold as elven warriors leapt between ancient oaks. At their lead, a golden-haired elf with eyes like quicksilver barked orders: "Faster, Lena! That beast mustn't reach the sacred grove!"
They burst into a riverside clearing. Blood painted the stones where a broken figure crawled—Kael, his body shredded but still moving.
Lena's hand twitched toward her healing pouch.
"Hold!" the golden elf gripped her shoulder. "It could be—"
A shadow detached from the trees. The Dragonhunter.
Kael rose on trembling legs to face the monster.
Lena's arrow loosed before the order came.
Chaos erupted. Steel flashed. Elven war cries mingled with screams as the creature's claws found flesh. Through the melee, Lena heard her master's command: "Get the boy clear!"
She hauled Kael's limp form to safety, turning just as the Dragonhunter's tail smashed through three elves. Bodies fell like autumn leaves.
Her master stepped forward, twin daggers gleaming. "Fall back!" The command left no room for argument.
Lena watched, numb, as the elf who'd raised her after her parents' disappearance fought with impossible grace.
When the beast finally fell, so did he.
She cradled his ruined body, tears cutting tracks through the blood on her face. "Master, please—"
His hand found hers. "The forest… sings for you, little shadow." A rattling breath. "Don't… let it stop."
His fingers went slack.
The memory shifted—Lena kneeling amidst ten fallen warriors, her gaze lifting to where Kael's unconscious form lay beneath a cedar.
Present
Kael gasped as if surfacing from deep water, his knees buckling. The phantom scent of blood clung to his nostrils.
"I saw," he whispered hoarsely.
Elnur's hand rested on his shoulder. "Their deaths weren't your doing. We'd been hunting that monster for hours."
"But I'm the reason they were there that day." Kael's voice broke. "The reason Lena—"
"Lena made her choice," Elnur interrupted gently. "As did we all."
He turned toward the setting sun, its crimson light painting the training grounds in hues of blood and fire.
"The question is—what will you do with the life she gave you?"
As the elder's footsteps faded, Kael remained, watching the sunset through unshed tears. Somewhere beyond the trees, a lone figure watched too—her dark hair stirring in the evening breeze, her violet eyes holding all the words she couldn't speak.
The Knife and the Forest
The morning mist still clung to the forest path when Kael set out alone for the training grounds, his thoughts heavy with what he'd seen. The images wouldn't leave him—Lena's tears, her master's final breath, the crimson-soaked clearing. They pressed into his chest like stones.
He didn't notice the rustle behind him until it was too late.
A shadow lunged.
Cold steel pressed against his throat, kissing his skin with lethal promise.
"Don't move."
Lena's voice. Low. Unsteady. But dangerous.
Kael froze, his pulse a thunderous drum in his ears.
"Walk," she hissed in his ear, her breath warm despite the blade. "Into the forest."
She nudged him forward with the flat of the knife. They moved through the trees, deeper and deeper, until the forest swallowed the sounds of the waking village. Birds scattered as they passed. Light filtered down in slivers through the canopy.
Only when they reached a glade enclosed by thick roots and moss-draped stone did Lena withdraw the blade, shoving him hard between the shoulder blades. Kael stumbled forward and turned.
"What did you see?"
Her voice cracked.
He said nothing.
She stepped closer, trembling—not from fear, but fury barely contained. "What did you see?!"
Kael looked into her eyes, violet and searing. "I saw the day you saved me. And the day you lost him."
The silence that followed was so complete, even the birds held their breath.
Lena's breath hitched. Her blade fell from her fingers, thudding into the grass.
"If you hadn't been there—" Her voice broke. "If we hadn't—"
She shook her head, backing away, her face a mask cracking at the seams. "I shouldn't have cared. I shouldn't have tried to save you. I should have listened. But he—he told me to protect you. You."
Tears streamed down her cheeks now, carving paths through the dirt on her face.
Kael's own throat burned. "Then why do you hate me for surviving?"
Lena stared at him as if the question physically struck her. "Because every time I see you… I hear his voice. I see the way his blood soaked through my hands. I smell the burning. And I remember that I couldn't save him—but I saved you. A stranger."
Her knees gave way. She slumped against a tree, head bowed.
Kael stepped closer, slowly, like one might approach a wounded animal. "You didn't fail him."
"Didn't I?" Her laugh was bitter. "I've replayed it every night for two years. And it always ends the same way—with him dying, and me left behind."
Kael knelt beside her.
"My parents died in front of me too," he said quietly. "And I still don't know if Sylvie or my father made it. But if they did, they're out there waiting for me. If they didn't…" He swallowed hard. "Then I need to be strong enough to make sure their deaths weren't in vain."
Lena looked up, her eyes rimmed red.
"I'm not asking for your forgiveness," Kael continued. "But I swear to you… I'll earn the life your master gave me. I'll become someone worthy of that sacrifice."
Lena didn't reply—but she didn't turn away either.
She picked up her blade and stood, brushing dirt from her trousers.
"For now," she said, voice raw but steady, "prove it with your actions. Not your words."
Then she vanished into the forest, her dark hair the last thing to disappear into the mist.
After Training
The sun hung low by the time training ended. Both Kael and Lena sat slumped beneath a mossy tree, chests heaving with exhaustion. Their clothes were caked in sweat and dirt, but neither spoke. For once, it wasn't silence born of distance.
Elnur approached with a satisfied nod. "Good work," he said, brushing off his robe. "Both of you. I'll take my leave."
As his footsteps faded into the trees, Kael turned to Lena. "I meant it—what I said earlier."
She stood without looking at him. "I know."
And for the first time, her tone didn't carry a blade behind it.
She walked away without another word—but this time, Kael saw it clearly: no hatred in her shoulders. No scorn in her step. Just a girl carrying weight too old for her years.
A single tear caught the dying light before it fell to the earth behind her.
Luna's Cottage
The moment Kael stepped inside, the scent of roasting meat and crushed herbs wrapped around him like a blanket. For a fleeting heartbeat, the aroma transported him back to Eldermist—his mother's cooking, Sylvie's laughter echoing through their home, the warmth of his father's hand on his shoulder.
But like all illusions, it broke too quickly.
"Kael?" Luna's voice cut through the haze. She was stirring something over the fire, her brow creased. "You're pale as moonlight."
He forced a chuckle. "Just… rough training."
Luna gave him a long look, then turned back to the stew. "Sit. Eat. Then we'll talk."
They ate in near silence, speaking only of trivial things—the weather, a sprained ankle in the village, an owl that nested in Luna's chimney.
But Kael's thoughts were elsewhere. In the training grounds. In the forest glade. In a memory not his own.
After the plates were cleared, Luna sat beside him on the low couch, hands in her lap.
"You're stronger than you know," she said softly. "Not just in body. But in heart."
Kael met her gaze. "Then why does it still hurt so much?"
"Because you're still human," she whispered.
She didn't need to say more. That night, Kael fell asleep without protest. No nightmares came.
Just silence.
And for now, that was enough.