The forest stretched endlessly behind them, but for the first time in days, a clearing opened ahead. Sunlight filtered down through branches interlaced with silver vines, and a subtle hum of power pulsed in the air like a heartbeat.
They had reached the heart of the forest—the central core.
"Look! We're here!" Alexia cheered, hands on her hips and eyes wide with relief.
Ymir stepped forward beside her, eyes narrowing as she took in the surroundings. "Yeah… this is it. The central point. We're halfway through."
Florence, trudging behind with an exaggerated groan, collapsed to his knees and clutched his stomach. "I'm dying… Tell my story. I haven't eaten in three days."
Alexia gave him a flat stare. "Maybe if someone didn't eat all the dried meat rations on the first night, we'd still have food."
Florence pointed dramatically at his belly. "Excuse me! Mr. Belly has needs! He's sensitive and vocal, and when he's angry, I suffer!"
"Mr. Belly can starve," Alexia muttered.
Ymir sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Enough, both of you. We need to save our strength. We don't know what else the forest is hiding."
Grumbling, Florence stood up, brushing off his robes while Alexia stuck her tongue out at him. Despite their bickering, the group moved forward together—tired, hungry, but alive.
Meanwhile, deep in the emerald hallways of the Elvenwood Citadel, where ancient trees twisted into regal halls and sunlight filtered like gold through crystal leaves, a tall elf knight dropped to one knee.
"Your Highness," he said, bowing before the Elven King seated upon a throne of intertwined roots and light, "there are humans trespassing in our sacred territory. Shall we eliminate them?"
The Elven King's eyes, ageless and silver like moons, narrowed. "Bring me their heads."
"Yes, Your Grace," replied the knight. He rose with a wicked grin curling his lips. "Let them taste Elven steel."
With a rustle of green cloaks, twenty elite elven knights vanished into the trees.
Hours later, as two groups converged on a path laced with old magic, their footsteps echoed closer and closer—until Ymir's party stepped into a glade just as another group emerged from the shadows of the opposing woods.
They froze.
"There," Florence pointed. "That's… them."
It was Rowan's group—cloaks fine, boots polished, expressions unreadable.
Ymir stepped forward confidently and offered her hand. "Hi. I'm Ymir."
Rowan stepped forward to meet her. His silver hair gleamed faintly in the filtered light, and his sharp eyes scanned her group quickly before taking her hand in a firm shake. "Rowan. Prince of Eldros."
"You've done well to keep your team intact," he said coolly, tone walking the line between impressed and dismissive. "I'm surprised a group of commoners made it this far."
Alexia stepped forward, fire flaring in her eyes. "Hey! You wanna run that by me again, pretty boy?"
Florence jumped in, waving his arms. "Whoa whoa whoa, Alexia! That's Prince Rowan! Y'know, royalty? Let's not get executed on the spot."
"I don't care if he's the King of the Moon!" she snapped.
"Calm down, Alexia," Ymir said gently, placing a hand on her friend's shoulder. She turned back to Rowan. "What matters is, we all made it. At least… so far."
Rowan's expression darkened slightly. "Let's hope it stays that way."
Ymir tilted her head. "What do you mean?"
"You haven't sensed it yet?" he asked.
She frowned. She had felt something—strange flickers of mana, like distant sparks or whispers in the trees. She'd written them off as animals or residual magic. Now she wasn't so sure.
"We're being followed," Rowan said.
A hush fell over both groups. Murmurs broke into sudden panic.
"By who?" Ymir asked.
"I don't know yet," he replied. "But they're skilled. I count thirty-six of us total. If we combine forces, we can prepare a unified attack."
Cheers and affirmations rippled through Rowan's party. Ymir nodded. "I agree. We'll fight together."
CRACK!
A massive shadow loomed—then a log came crashing down from the treetops. A scream rang out. A boy was thrown violently aside, knocked unconscious or worse.
"AMBUSH!" someone yelled.
Shrieks, breaking branches, the rapid thud-thud-thud of boots on leaves—and suddenly they were surrounded.
Twenty masked figures in dark green armor emerged from the woods in seamless motion, arrows drawn, weapons gleaming.
From the front stepped a tall elven knight, his sharp cheekbones like blades, and his eyes filled with cruel amusement.
"Welcome," he said, grinning, "to the Elven Kingdom… humans."
Silence fell like a blade.