Chapter 116
Melgil was waiting by the edge of the camp when she spotted Daniel returning. Relief washed over her face as she smiled and walked up to him, wrapping her arms around him in a quiet, grateful embrace. Nearby, Ysil Thorne, Galen Althus, Lora Sithe, Ormin Vos Sither, and Thalen Merrow stood talking in hushed tones.
They had all known for a while that Daniel and Melgil were a couple, and none of them seemed surprised by the affection. Daniel gave them a quick nod and told them to begin packing up their equipment. They'd be leaving at first light and returning home. It had been a long and tense few days, and they all needed rest.
As the camp settled into silence, Melgil pulled Daniel aside. Her voice was low but urgent.
"Daniel… why did they attack us?" she asked, referring to the dark elves. "They came out of nowhere. Just for the Hallowtree? In that tiny seventy-acre swamp?"
She looked confused, even frustrated. "There are much bigger swamps in this region—more secluded, more resource-rich. Why this one?"
Daniel paused. He knew the full truth, but it wasn't something he could share openly—not even with her. The Hallowtree was special, yes, but the real reason had more to do with something hidden beneath it… something dangerous. A buried virus, part of an old experiment no one was supposed to know about. If he told her that now, it would only raise more questions—ones that could lead to fear or even panic.
So he gave her the answer she needed, just enough to calm her without revealing too much.
"It's not really about the size of the swamp," he said gently. "It's what's growing inside it. That tree… the Hallowtree. It holds something rare, something they believe belongs to them. Some dark elves are tied to ancient roots and old magic; they treat places like that as sacred or… cursed, depending on their beliefs."
Melgil frowned, trying to understand, but slowly nodded.
"They saw us being there as a threat," Daniel added. "That's all. They acted on instinct—and maybe fear."
He gave her a small smile, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "But it's over now. We're going home."
Melgil watched his face as he spoke, calm, reassuring, but carefully guarded. There was more he wasn't saying. She could see it in the way his eyes avoided hers for a heartbeat too long, or how his fingers tightened ever so slightly around the strap of his satchel.
She didn't press him. Not yet.
Instead, she nodded and reached for his hand. "Alright," she said quietly. "Let's go home."
The fire crackled softly in the center of the camp. The others had finished their preparations and were turning in, wrapping themselves in cloaks and bedrolls, the tension of the day slowly ebbing away.
Galen was on the first watch, perched on a log with his bow across his lap, eyes scanning the dark treeline. Thalen and Ormin were speaking in low voices, too far for Melgil to hear. Lora was already asleep, her sword within arm's reach.
Daniel and Melgil sat by the fire, shoulders touching.
"Do you ever feel," she said after a while, "like some things just... don't make sense anymore? Like you're in the middle of something bigger, and no one's telling you the rules?"
Daniel gave a soft laugh, but it lacked warmth. "Yeah. All the time."
They fell into silence again, and it hung heavy between them, comfortable yet filled with unspoken thoughts.
After a few minutes, Daniel stood and glanced toward the swamp behind them. The Hallowtree was still faintly visible through the mist, its pale bark glowing slightly under the moonlight, as if it were alive in ways no one truly understood.
Melgil followed his gaze. "It's beautiful," she said.
Daniel's eyes narrowed. "It's dangerous."
She turned to him, brow furrowing. "You mean more than we saw today?"
He hesitated, then gave a noncommittal shrug. "Just a feeling. Let's not stay longer than we have to."
Melgil didn't reply. She knew now, without question, something had happened out there that he
wasn't telling her. Something about the Hallowtree… and maybe even about himself.
Soon, they both fell asleep, side by side beneath the stars. The fire's last embers faded into ash, and the forest grew quiet, no more whispers, no rustling from the trees, not even the familiar croaking of frogs from the nearby swamp. The silence felt unnatural, but no danger came that night.
Morning arrived with a pale, silver dawn. A thin mist curled around the base of the trees, rising like breath from the earth. Birds began to stir, their songs cautious and scattered. The scent of wet moss and old bark hung heavy in the air.
Daniel woke first. He sat up slowly, his back sore from the cold ground, his mind still heavy with thoughts he hadn't dared to speak aloud. He glanced at Melgil, still wrapped in her blanket, her breathing soft and steady. For a moment, he just watched her, grateful for her presence—and afraid of what would happen if she ever learned the whole truth.
By the time the others were stirring, the camp had already begun to dissolve. Bedrolls were packed, weapons checked, and rations divided. Ysil barked out quiet commands while Galen scouted the surrounding woods. Thalen and Ormin doused the fire pit with a bucket of swamp water, turning the ashes into mud.
They set out by mid-morning, leaving behind the swamp and the cursed Hallowtree, now little more than a shadow between the reeds.
The road home was long and rough. Their path wound through shallow marshes, twisted forest trails, and finally up into the low green hills that marked the edge of familiar territory. The group moved cautiously at first; no one spoke much, and even the birds seemed to avoid the company of warriors just returned from bloodshed.
On the second day, Melgil rode beside Daniel as they followed a narrow trail that cut through a fern-covered ridge. She looked out over the trees below, their leaves beginning to turn orange and gold in the early signs of fall.
"You know," she said, breaking the quiet, "I always thought the journey back would feel easier, like we'd be lighter, knowing it was over."
Daniel didn't answer right away. His gaze was locked on the horizon, where a thin plume of smoke rose faintly in the distance, not from their camp and not from any village he knew.
"It's not over," he said softly, more to himself than to her.
Melgil turned to look at him. "What do you mean?"
He hesitated, then forced a small smile. "Just thinking. Still tired, I guess."
She didn't believe him, but she let it go for now.
By the third day, the group had passed the last of the wildlands. Farmland dotted the hills, and small stone fences marked the return to civilization. Children played near wells. Shepherds waved as the travelers passed. It should have been comforting.
But to Daniel, it felt like walking through a dream, one where danger still lingered just beyond the edge of the waking world.
When they finally saw the towers of Elvenwall rising in the distance, bathed in the amber light of the setting sun, a cheer went up from the group. Lora even laughed, and Ysil let out a breath he'd been holding for days.
But Daniel remained silent. and just admire the view as he sat the the roof of the battle wagon while Thalen Merrow drive the wagon the war ox pulled with efficiency and with ease as the wagon luckily wasn't damage by the dark elf attack. Melgil was laying on Danils legs as he just sat as the wagon move.
He felt it again, that faint emotional pull, like a thread tied to his heart, tugging gently whenever she was near. Daniel glanced at Melgil as she rode beside him, her expression calm, eyes focused on the winding road ahead.
She said nothing in that moment, but her presence was a steady warmth in the cool morning air. He had never truly seen her gestures as romantic, nor did he believe she intended them that way, no lingering touches, no whispered promises. And yet, something about the way she moved, the way she looked at him when she thought he wasn't watching, left a quiet ache in his chest.
When she offered him a glance and a small smile, he simply returned it with a nod and a polite smile of his own, measured, careful, unrevealing. He wasn't ready to speak the feelings he barely understood himself. But he liked the feeling. He liked riding beside her.
He liked the silence they shared, the way her presence made the burden on his shoulders feel lighter. And though he told himself it meant nothing, deep down, he hoped the thread between them wouldn't break.