The days passed, marking a strange transition for the elves of the World Tree. Vollua, once rocked by pain and survival, was now filled with a new energy.
It was no longer simply resilience or contained fear. No. Something deeper had taken root in their hearts.
A hope that was fragile, but burning with intensity.
The full moon was approaching, and with it the promise of a unique event in the history of their people.
The elves had become a hive of activity. Each individual had found a role, a task, a duty.
Some groups took care of the upkeep of the dwellings still standing, while others prepared feasts worthy of a sacred ceremony. The children of the World Tree were about to be reborn, and although no one knew exactly what that meant, everyone was preparing to welcome this miracle.
At the centre of it all, Köflik, usually so cold and analytical, had become a veritable architect of the event since Foster had put him in charge of the preparations.
