The morning had come shrouded in mist, as if the world itself was reluctant to reveal what lay ahead. The group moved in tense silence, the weight of their decision to flee still fresh. Raelyn walked beside Lydia and her children. Hovan led the way, his sword resting against his hip, his hand never far from the hilt.

Convincing Lydia to leave the farm had been no small task. The woman had been reluctant at first, her maternal instincts torn between protecting her children and leaving the only home they had ever known. But when Raelyn explained what had happened to the farm they stayed at outside of the Misty Woods, Lydia was convinced. Raelyn had apologized profusely about bringing this danger to their doorstep. It was Benjamin who told her it wasn't her fault. If only he knew.

Raelyn had placed a comforting hand on Lydia's arm. "We'll make it to the elves. I promise."

Now, as they approached the edge of the Brystwy Forest, that promise weighed heavily on Raelyn's heart. The ancient woods rose before them like a living wall, the towering trees stretching impossibly high, their canopies interwoven to block out much of the sky. The trunks were gnarled and massive, their roots twisting like the tendrils of some great, sleeping creature. Mist coiled around their bases, faintly glowing in the filtered sunlight.

Raelyn tugged gently on Maisie's reins, leading her horse forward. Hovan did the same with his steed, his sharp eyes scanning the dense undergrowth. The forest was eerily quiet, the usual chirps and rustles of wildlife conspicuously absent. Even the wind seemed to hesitate at the forest's edge.

"This place feels... alive," Raelyn murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

"It is," Benjamin replied. He walked a few steps behind her, his father's sword hanging awkwardly at his side. "The forest has its own magic. The elves protect it, but it protects itself too."

"What do you mean?" Raelyn asked, glancing over her shoulder.

"You'll see," Benjamin said cryptically. His gaze flicked toward the mist.

Raelyn frowned but said nothing, her grip tightening on Maisie's reins. The further they ventured into the forest, the more the world seemed to close in around them. The canopy above was so dense that only fragmented shafts of light pierced through, dappling the forest floor in shifting patterns. The air grew cooler with each step, a damp chill settling on her skin. Shadows danced at the edges of her vision, their movements so subtle she wasn't sure if they were real or tricks of her imagination. A deep sense of unease prickled at the back of her neck, urging her to look over her shoulder more than once. Each time, she saw nothing but the mist curling around the roots of ancient trees.

Maisie let out a soft snort, her ears flicking nervously. Raelyn reached out to stroke the horse's neck, murmuring soothing words as they pressed forward. Beside her, Lydia clutched Ruthie's hand, the little girl's wide eyes darting around the forest with both wonder and fear. Hovan walked ahead, his hand resting near the hilt of his sword, his expression as unreadable as ever.

It was Rakz who reacted first. The little creature, perched just ahead of Raelyn, stopped abruptly, his sapphire scales glinting faintly in the muted light. His slender body stiffened, and his head snapped to the side, his golden eyes narrowing as his nostrils flared. A low, rumbling growl escaped him, vibrating through the quiet.

"What is it?" Raelyn whispered, following his gaze. Her heart thudded in her chest as her eyes scanned the direction Rakz was focused on.

At first, she saw only bark—rough, moss-covered bark. It was just a tree, ancient and massive, its surface coated with layers of green and brown. But then the lines of the bark began to blur, shifting almost imperceptibly. Her breath caught as the shape moved, detaching itself from the trunk with an eerie fluidity.

The figure that emerged was slender and ethereal, her body seemingly woven from the forest itself. Her skin was a tapestry of moss and bark, her eyes a vivid, almost glowing green that seemed to pierce through the mist. Her hair was a cascade of ivy and leaves, swaying as if caught in a breeze that no one else could feel. The nymph's movements were slow and deliberate, her head tilting slightly as she regarded them with quiet intensity.

Raelyn's pulse quickened, a mixture of awe and fear washing over her. She felt as though she were standing before a creature far older and wiser than she could comprehend. "What... what is that?" she breathed, her voice barely audible.

"That's a nymph," Benjamin said softly, stepping closer to her. His voice held a note of reverence, as if speaking too loudly might offend the being before them. "They're protectors of the forest. They'll alert the elves to anyone entering."

Raelyn's gaze remained fixed on the nymph as the creature's eyes flicked between each member of their group. There was no malice in her expression, but her watchfulness was unnerving, like the forest itself was taking their measure. For a moment, the nymph's luminous green eyes locked onto Raelyn's, and Raelyn felt an almost physical weight in the connection, as though the creature were peering into her very soul.

The nymph lingered a moment longer before shifting back toward the tree. With a grace that defied logic, her form melted seamlessly into the bark, her edges blurring until she was indistinguishable from the trunk itself. The forest seemed to breathe again, the weight of her presence lifting but not entirely vanishing.

"That was... incredible," Raelyn said, her voice hushed and filled with wonder.

Benjamin gave a small smile. "The forest is full of them," he said, his tone reverent. "They're always watching. If you mean no harm, they'll leave you be. If not..." He trailed off, leaving the implication hanging in the air.

Raelyn nodded slowly, still staring at the tree where the nymph had disappeared. She couldn't shake the feeling that she had just witnessed something sacred, something that reminded her of how small and fleeting she truly was in the grand tapestry of Unevia. Rakz, still tense, let out a soft chuff and pressed closer to her side, his golden eyes flicking warily toward the tree as they resumed their journey. 

Benjamin shrugged, though there was a hint of pride in his expression. "The first time I came to trade with the elves, I didn't even see them. Just felt like I was being watched the whole time." His voice dipped slightly, and he stared ahead, his gaze distant as he recalled the memory. "I did hear them, though... whispers all around, like the wind was carrying voices. It wasn't anything I could understand, but it was... unnerving." He shuddered slightly, as though the sensation still lingered.

"You've traded with the elves before, right?" Hovan asked as he turned to study the young man.

"Only a couple of times," Benjamin admitted, glancing over his shoulder at Hovan. "The first time, I wandered for days—three, maybe four—before they found me. I thought I was lost for good." He gave a dry laugh. "But when they finally showed up, they weren't what I expected. They didn't say much, just took what I had to trade and left me enough food and medicine to get home. Once they knew I wasn't a threat, it got easier. Now, when I come into the forest, they usually find me before nightfall."

Raelyn glanced at the towering trees that stretched endlessly ahead of them. "So we just... wait for them to find us?" she asked, her brow furrowing at the idea.

Benjamin nodded. "Pretty much. The forest is strange. You can walk for days and never see a soul. It feels alive somehow, like it decides whether to let you through or not. The elves? They decide if you're worth their time."

Hovan let out a low grunt, his brows knitting together in clear frustration. "Wonderful," he muttered. "We're putting our fate in the hands of invisible watchers."

Benjamin shot him a half-smile. "It's better than being torn apart by demons, isn't it? The elves may be reclusive, but they're fair. If you're honest with them, they'll listen."

Raelyn's gaze remained fixed on the ancient trees as a question tugged at her mind. "Have you ever met their king? Lytherion?"

Benjamin shook his head, his expression sheepish. "No. I've only ever dealt with their scouts. They're the ones who keep to the edges of the forest, the ones who decide whether to bring you further in. I've never even been to Eryndoriel." He hesitated, his tone becoming almost apologetic. "I've heard stories about it, though. They say it's a city grown from the forest itself, like the trees and stone just... became part of their homes."

Raelyn exchanged a glance with Hovan, her disappointment evident. "So you don't know if we'll even get to see the king?"

Benjamin scratched the back of his neck, clearly feeling the weight of their expectation. "I can't say for sure. But I do know the elves are reasonable. They're not cruel or deceitful. If you explain what's going on and why you need their help, I'm sure they'll listen."

Hovan's skepticism didn't fade, but he folded his arms and looked ahead with a resigned expression. "Reasonable," he echoed dryly. "We'll see."

Raelyn, however, found herself focusing on Benjamin's description of the elves. "What are they like?" she asked, curiosity coloring her tone.

Benjamin considered the question for a moment, his gaze drifting upward to the canopy above. "They seem... fair enough. Quiet, polite. They don't waste words, and they don't bother with people who don't respect their forest. If you're respectful, they'll be the same to you."

Raelyn nodded thoughtfully, though uncertainty still lingered in her expression. The elves of Caelluma had been wary, but kind. If the elves of Eryndoriel were anything like them, perhaps there was hope.

As the group pressed deeper into the forest, Rakz let out a quiet huff, his golden eyes darting around. He seemed to have decided the nymph was no longer a threat, but his tense posture made it clear he didn't fully trust the forest's quiet. Raelyn reached down to brush a calming hand over his sapphire-scaled back.

Benjamin spoke again, his tone lighter as if to dispel the unease creeping over them. "If it makes you feel better, the elves gave me medicine once when Ruthie was sick. They didn't ask for anything in return. Just handed it over and told me to take care of my family."

Raelyn smiled faintly at the story, her grip on Maisie's reins relaxing slightly. "That does make me feel better. Maybe they'll help us after all."

"They will," Benjamin said confidently. "If you plead your case, they'll listen. The elves aren't like the demons—they don't take joy in other people's suffering."

Hovan remained silent, his wary gaze scanning the forest as they walked. Raelyn could sense his unease, but for the first time since they had entered the Brystwy Forest, she felt a glimmer of hope. If the elves were as fair as Benjamin claimed, perhaps their journey would not be in vain.

The group paused between the massive roots of an ancient tree, its trunk so wide that it seemed to dwarf even the tallest among them. The air was cool and damp, the faint scent of moss and earth lingering in the shaded clearing. Raelyn slumped against one of the gnarled roots, letting out a quiet sigh as she wiped sweat from her brow. Ruthie sat nearby, leaning against her mother, her small hands idly playing with a stray leaf. Benjamin remained standing, glancing around as if expecting the elves to appear at any moment.

Hovan unslung his pack and set it down with a grunt, rolling his shoulders to loosen the tension that had built during the long walk. As he stretched, his eyes fell on the sword Benjamin carried strapped to his back. The scabbard was plain, worn with age, and the hilt was nicked and tarnished. Hovan's brow furrowed slightly.

"Mind if I see that sword?" he asked, gesturing toward it.

Benjamin hesitated, his hand instinctively going to the hilt. "Why?" he asked, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his tone.

Hovan shrugged. "Just curious. You don't look like you've had much use for it, but it's been catching my eye all day."

Benjamin reluctantly unstrapped the sword and handed it over. Hovan unsheathed the blade with practiced ease, the sound of metal scraping against leather filling the quiet clearing. He held the sword up, examining it in the dim light filtering through the canopy. The blade was dull, its edge chipped in several places, and a faint layer of rust clung to the fuller.

"Hmm." Hovan couldn't help but stifle a chuckle, shaking his head. "This thing wouldn't last one good swing, let alone a fight with a demon."

Benjamin bristled, his face flushing. "It belonged to my father," he said stiffly. "It's all I have left of him."

Hovan's smirk faded as he glanced at the younger man. There was a raw vulnerability in Benjamin's voice, and the pride he'd carried earlier now seemed fragile. Hovan cleared his throat, softening his tone. "I didn't mean any disrespect, lad. I can tell it's got history."

Benjamin crossed his arms, his shoulders tightening. "I brought it in case we ran into demons. Thought it might help."

Hovan ran a finger along the blade's edge, grimacing at the roughness. "It's a fine sword, or at least it used to be," he said carefully. "But it's been through hell. Needs some care if it's going to be of any use." He sheathed the blade and handed it back. "I can take a look at it for you. Might be able to bring it back to its old glory."

Benjamin's defensive posture eased, and his eyes brightened. "You'd do that?"

Hovan nodded. "Your father carried it into battle. It deserves better than to sit around gathering rust."

Benjamin smiled, his earlier tension melting away. "Thanks. That means a lot."

Hovan waved a hand dismissively, though there was a faint warmth in his voice. "Don't thank me yet. Let's see if I can make something of it first."

Raelyn, who had been quietly watching the exchange, smiled to herself. Despite his gruff demeanor, Hovan had a way of connecting with people when it mattered most.