The wind whispered through the trees, carrying the distant hum of the Nymph Forest as Silvermist adjusted the Elixir strapped securely to her belt now inside a different bottle that the Queen gave her as an exchange of the original one.
The sky above was painted in hues of deep indigo and violet almost covered with the thickening mists, a testament to the night's quiet descent.
She had been through too much in just such a short span of time—attacked, saw some watermelons from female ethereal trees, trapped in the Cauldron, nearly losing herself, retrieving the Elixir. And now, it was time to leave.
But the gravity of an unspoken farewell hung between them—like an awkward silence at a family reunion, except this one involved a crimson-haired elf and emotional damage.
So, you're really leaving now?" Estes asked, his voice low, almost hesitant. Gone was the usual arrogant lilt—replaced with something softer, something dangerously close to sentimentality.
