A Return to Havelune
The walk back was an almost suffocating silence.
Under the Sylvaenar's leafy canopy, the leaves rustled softly, lulled by the night wind, but this murmur couldn't soothe the heavy weight on Kaelios and Aërya's hearts.
Usually, it was Lioran who broke these silences. He had a knack for lightening any situation, even the most tense, with a witty remark or a genuine burst of laughter. But now, his absence was a gaping wound, a painful shadow between them.
Aërya walked a little behind, her hands clasped against her chest, her eyes rimmed with tears. She had tried to speak several times, to say something, but the words choked in her throat. Kaelios, for his part, remained stoic, his gaze fixed straight ahead. Yet with every step, his mind relived their brother-in-arms' final moments.
The village lanterns' light finally flickered through the trees. Havelune awakened at their approach, the slender silhouettes of the elves appearing in the bluish glow that bathed the suspended wooden streets. The inhabitants rushed out, relieved to see Kaelios and Aërya return.
But very quickly, the enthusiasm gave way to a quiet dread. One figure was missing.
"Where is Lioran?" a woman's voice asked, trembling.
"Why isn't he with you?" a child cried out, searching for his adopted uncle among the shadows.
The elders came forward, grave, their eyes filled with an inquisitive light. Everyone was waiting for an answer.
Aërya wanted to speak, but her voice broke, a muffled sob escaping her lips. She turned her head away, unable to bear the weight of so many stares.
So Kaelios took a deep breath. His throat was tight, but he knew he had to be the one to break the silence.
"Lioran..." he said, his deep voice resounding like a death knell. "Lioran has fallen. He sacrificed himself for us. For all of you."
A strangled cry rose from the crowd. Some fell to their knees, others held their heads in their hands. The children began to weep without understanding, only sensing that something irreparable had just happened.
Then, Kaelios pulled a crystalline shard from his palm. The fragment pulsed with a green light, like a heart still beating.
"This... is all that's left of him. His mana core, which appeared at his last breath."
The elders froze, their breath caught in their throats. This shard was the ultimate proof, the last vestige of their brother. One of them bowed deeply, his lips trembling as he pronounced the sacred words:
"Then we shall bury him at the foot of the World-Tree. May his soul join those of our ancestors."
The World-Tree Ritual
The news spread through the village like a ripple. Soon, all of Havelune gathered to accompany Lioran on his final journey.
The procession set off, silent, the inhabitants dressed in long, dark cloaks. Torches lit their way, casting shifting shadows on the ancient tree trunks that seemed to weep with them.
The World-Tree finally appeared, majestic and infinite. Its colossal roots intertwined like the columns of a cathedral, and its crown spread golden leaves from which luminous particles trickled, like suspended stars. At its sight, Kaelios felt a shiver run down his spine: he felt as if he were standing before eternity itself.
The elders carved an altar of roots, and Kaelios gently placed Lioran's crystal upon it. The moment it touched the wood, a pulse ran through the air, and a wave of light spread throughout the clearing. The Tree had recognized the essence of its lost child.
The oldest elder raised his hand.
"According to tradition, the soul of the deceased can only join the Tree through the memories it carries. But Lioran has no living family..."
His gaze settled on Kaelios and Aërya.
"You were his family. It is for you to honor this ritual."
Kaelios exchanged a look with Aërya. She nodded, clasping his fingers. Together, they knelt, resting their silver and golden hair against the moss-covered roots.
A green light immediately surged, enveloping them. Their minds were drawn into a gentle daze, and the world around them dissolved, giving way to Lioran's memories.
Visions of Childhood
The first images were blurry, trembling like a dream. Then they sharpened, and Kaelios and Aërya saw through Lioran's eyes.
A small elven village, nestled in the heart of the Sylvaenar. Wooden huts stood between the immense trunks, and the morning light bathed the clearing in a golden glow.
A four-year-old child ran, laughing brightly, a stick in his hand that he twirled like a sword. His parents, two elves with gentle features, watched him with infinite tenderness from the threshold of their hut.
The happiness seemed pure, inviolable.
But suddenly, the harsh roar of a horn echoed, tearing through the air. The Orcs appeared, armed with axes and torches, their guttural laughs drowning out the villagers' cries.
Kaelios felt the child's heart pound wildly. His small hiding place, a trapdoor concealed under the hut's floorboards, became his only refuge. He dove into it, trembling, his eyes fixed on the gaps in the floor.
And there, the horror was seared into his pupils. His parents, trapped, were massacred before his eyes. The Orcs pierced them with their blades, laughing loudly as their blood stained the hut's walls.
"Papa... Mama..." the child whispered, unable to look away.
His hands clamped over his mouth to stifle a cry. But one of the Orcs, intrigued by the sound, lifted the floorboards. A gigantic hand gripped Lioran's small body and tore him from his hiding place. His cries echoed, powerless.
Enslavement
The vision blurred, shifting to a new setting.
Chains. Screams. Clandestine markets.
Lioran, still a child, was led to a family of druids. His new master, Eldran Varleth, stood before him, his features harsh and his gaze icy.
"Never go near my daughter, you vermin," he growled, hitting him. "You are nothing but a mistake, rejected by the gods."
Each day brought its share of humiliations. Kaelios and Aërya felt in their own flesh the pain of the blows, the hunger, the nights spent chained to the ground.
Yet, in this life of suffering, a light persisted: Selindra Varleth, Eldran's daughter. Unlike her father, she saw in Lioran a friend, an equal.
The visions showed stolen moments: two children secretly playing in a copse, laughing brightly despite their fear. Eldran would sometimes surprise them, and the punishment would follow immediately. But Selindra always defended Lioran.
"I'm the one who wants to be with him!" she would shout, her eyes full of defiance. "He isn't the one who approaches me!"
But her father remained inflexible.
Forbidden Romance
The years passed.
Lioran grew, his body forged by pain and forced labor. Selindra, meanwhile, became a graceful young woman, with a smile as bright as the moon.
Their gazes constantly sought each other out, despite the prohibitions. One evening, as the moon bathed the clearing in a silver glow, Selindra brushed his hand.
"One day... you will be free. And I will always believe in you," she whispered.
Their hearts beat in unison, bound by a silent promise.
Then came the decisive night. Lioran, now eighteen, felt a hand shake his chains. Selindra was there, her eyes shining with tears. She had stolen the keys.
"Hurry! Leave before my father finds you."
The chains fell with a clatter. Lioran looked at her, his heart broken.
"I can't leave you here."
"You have to go!" she sobbed.
Then, in a burst of courage, she kissed him, a soft and trembling kiss. Then she pushed him into the tall grass, hiding him in the darkness.
"Promise me you'll come back..."
"I promise," he replied, his voice breaking.
And he disappeared into the night, carrying the flame of this forbidden love in his heart.
(The light of the visions darkens, announcing the wandering in the forest and the next stages of his life...)