But before the Flamebearers begin their journey, before the mist lifts and the dust clears...
šļø A Glimpse Beyond Time
Far above the worldābeyond the sky, beyond even Elyndorāin a place where no soul breathes, no clock turns...
He watches.
Elarion.
Seated not upon his throneā¦but upon a low stone in a quiet place made of starlight and shadow.
The memory of Lioren still echoes around himāAlari's voice carrying the name no one had spoken since the world was whole.
He does not speak.He does not weep.
But his hand closes over his heart.And his gaze lowers.
And for the first time in an ageā¦
He remembers holding Lioren's hand.Not as a god. Not as a warrior.But as a brother.
š„ He Whispers Without Sound
Not a prayer.Not a decree.
Just the unspoken ache that echoes through creation:
"I never stopped loving you."
Then he vanishes, as soft as a falling feather.
š¤ļø Back on the Mortal Path...
The Flamebearers now follow a trail that only Alari can see.
Not in maps.Not in prophecy.
But in dreams.
šÆļø The Place of the Last Tear
They arrive at a wide, cracked plaināso still, it feels like even time avoids this place.
A single silver tree grows at the center.No leaves. Just light, woven into branches.
And beneath itā¦
A shallow pool, filled not with water, but with memory.
Alari kneels at its edge.
"This is where Lioren fell," she whispers."And where the first tear of the divine was shed."
"It wasn't war that made him the Veilā¦It was grief."