I shake my head.
“Let me go,” I whisper, the words breaking in my throat. “If you don’t, I will never forgive you. AndI promise you,I will find a way to leave again—but the lives lost between now and then will be on your head.”
He holds me tighter.
“Firelocks.”
“You lied to me,” I said.
“But I didn’t know?—”
“Stop. Please. Let me go.”
He doesn’t move.
So I scream,“Let me go!”
“Arlet.”
It’s a name filled with the agony at the heart of every fallen civilization.
But then, with a sudden, shaky motion, he throws his cleaver to the ground, the blade clattering against the dirt and rock.
He steps back.
Surrenders.
Grants me one last gift—listening to me.
“Tell Estela I love her. Tell everyone I will miss them,” I say, and then I walk past, to the elf waiting at the front of the group.
I know if I look I will break.
The elf does not speak, but his men create a tight circle around me. They do not restrain me or pick me up.
We just walk down the path. To the dark shore boat with Arion’s tree insignia.
The world floats around me and I can hardly believe where I am. What is happening.
Someone helps me onto the boat.
I don’t look back as they push us away from the sand, or cut through the water. The air feels cold now, unfamiliar. The soft hum of the boat is the only sound.
I try to breathe deeply, to find something that still feels like me, but there’s nothing. Just the emptiness of moving forward, away from everything I thought I knew.
The shoreline grows distant, the sounds of battle muffled and fading. The ship looms large, its dark form rising from the water, and I can feel the eyes of the elves on me as we approach. Waiting for me.
So sure I would come.
The leading boat towers over the shoreboat as it docks. Its hull is dark, made of polished wood that gleams faintly in the moonlight, accented with silver trim. The sails are unfurled, shimmering like fine silk. The ship is sleek, with intricate carvings along the railings and a large, ornate tree sculpted into the stern, its roots sprawling across the back.
They throw down a ladder, and then I am made to climb up first. My legs shake, and my hands tremble.
Above me, more than twenty elves stand at attention, their postures stiff, their faces blank. So many. If I hadn’t come… they would have kept sending more and more men.
Right choice. You made the right choice.
As I step onto the deck, they bow. One by one, each of them lowers their head to the floor in a single, coordinated motion.