Kaelen slumped against the worn wooden bar of a crowded tavern, the rich scent of ale mingling with smoke and damp earth. He couldn't recall how he'd gotten there exactly—only that his frustration with Solenara had driven him out, each step of his retreat feeling more futile.
A mug of something dark and bitter was thrust into his hand by the barkeep, who gave him a knowing nod but said nothing. Kaelen took a long pull, the burn in his throat grounding him.
"You look like you've seen better nights," a soft, lilting voice cut through the din.
Kaelen turned, meeting the gaze of a striking woman seated to his left. Her beauty was arresting, but it wasn't just her appearance—it was the aura around her, the way her very presence seemed to steal the air. Her raven-black hair framed a heart-shaped face, her full lips curved into an enigmatic smile. She wore a deep green dress that clung to her curves, the color unnervingly reminiscent of a forest in spring.
"I've had worse," he replied gruffly, taking another swig.
"I doubt that," she said, leaning forward just enough to let her necklace catch the light. A delicate silver pendant hung from her throat—a sigil he didn't recognize but couldn't look away from.
"Kaelen, right?" she asked, as though she hadn't just crossed the boundaries of familiarity.
He stiffened, frowning. "Who's asking?"
She laughed, the sound low and melodious, like the hum of an ancient tune. "Oh, I've heard of you. Stories travel far when a man stands for his cause, even if no one stands with him."
He narrowed his eyes, suspicion flickering, but her gaze was disarming, genuine.
"Look, I'm not interested in stories or company," he muttered, turning back to his drink.
"Maybe not, but maybe you need both," she replied, undeterred. Her fingers lightly traced the edge of his mug. "Or maybe you just need something else altogether."
Kaelen's jaw tightened. There was a pull in her words, like an invisible tether coiling around him. He opened his mouth to respond, to push her away, but stopped when her hand rested atop his.
"It's easier to fight for a cause when you're not fighting alone," she said softly, her tone suddenly grave.
The words struck a nerve. He hadn't realized how much he'd needed to hear that, but as her warmth bled into his skin, the tension within him seemed to ease.
Far from the city, Solenara rested against the gnarled roots of an ancient tree. The grove was quiet, untouched by Halvryn's influence.
The moon hung heavy and full in the sky, its silvery glow casting long shadows over the clearing. She had come here for clarity, for answers to the questions that weighed on her heart.
As her eyes fluttered closed, the familiar haze of dreams began to descend.
This time, the vision was clearer, sharper than ever before. She stood not as herself but as someone else entirely, dressed in flowing robes of deep green, her hair adorned with vines and flowers that bloomed as she moved.
She was surrounded by light and life—the forest alive in a way she had never known it to be. Trees whispered her name, rivers sang in her honor.
"You are their lifeblood," a voice said.
She turned to see a figure approaching, faceless but familiar.
"They will love you for what you give them," the voice continued. "And they will curse you for what you take."
The words sent a chill through her.
Kaelen didn't remember agreeing to leave the tavern, but the streets of the city blurred past him in a haze of shadows and pale green light. The woman—Althara, she had called herself—led him with sure steps, her touch on his arm like a promise.
"You're quieter than I thought," she teased.
"Just don't trust what I can't understand," he replied, though his tone lacked its usual edge.
They stopped outside an unassuming door tucked between dark alleyways. Althara turned to him, her hand lingering on his chest, the silver pendant at her throat gleaming faintly in the dark.
"What are you afraid of, Kaelen?" she asked, her voice softer now, almost tender.
The question pierced through him in a way he didn't expect, unraveling the tight cords he'd bound around his heart. For a moment, he wanted to tell her everything. About Solenara, about the crushing weight of failure, about the burden of being powerless.
But he said nothing, and Althara didn't press him.
When she kissed him, it wasn't tentative or asking. It was certain, almost commanding, the kind of kiss that obliterated thought.
In her dream, Solenara stood before the Great Tree of Etria, its sprawling roots enveloping the earth like protective arms. The winds whispered to her, carrying fragments of a song she knew by heart but couldn't recall.
"Why have you strayed so far, my child?"
The voice seemed to come from within the tree itself, deep and resonant.
"I… I'm lost," she replied, her voice trembling.
"Lost only because you do not trust what you know to be true," the tree said.
And then, like a vision within the dream, she saw herself—the true herself, Etria in all her divine glory. The power of earth and life radiated from her, limitless and pure.
But as she reached out to the image, darkness crept into the corners of her dream, fracturing the light. Her own shadow loomed larger, overtaking the form of Etria until nothing but emptiness remained.
Solenara woke with a start, her breaths ragged, her skin cold.
Kaelen woke in Althara's bed, disoriented and strangely numb. Sunlight filtered through gauzy curtains, and the scent of wildflowers filled the air.
He blinked, trying to piece together the night before, but fragments eluded him, like water slipping through his fingers.
"You were restless," Althara said, appearing beside him.
Her tone was casual, but her eyes held something deeper—satisfaction, maybe even triumph. She ran a finger down his arm, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.
"Fate works in mysterious ways, doesn't it?" she murmured, her lips curling into that enigmatic smile.
Kaelen frowned, his head heavy with an inexplicable weight. He dressed in silence, his mind clouded.
As he left the room and stepped into the bright morning, he felt an ache he couldn't name—a sense that something within him had shifted, though he couldn't say how or why.
Solenara felt different when Kaelen returned. She watched him from across the room, noting the new distance in his eyes, the quiet detachment in his demeanor.
"Where were you?" she asked, her tone sharper than intended.
He glanced at her but didn't meet her gaze. "Out."
"That's not an answer."
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I needed air. To think."
The words stung more than they should have. For all her efforts to push him away, the realization that he had sought solace elsewhere unsettled her.
But rather than confront the growing gulf between them, she turned away, retreating into her own thoughts.
Why does this hurt?
Unseen by either of them, shadows danced along the walls, marking the first of Fate's many threads weaving into their lives.