The night air clung to Ellowyn as she slipped back through the quiet streets of Yal Elunore. Lanterns glowed softly in their cradles of woven vine, but the light felt thin and distant, like stars drowning behind a heavy mist. Home stood just as she had left it, but somehow it felt smaller. Colder.
She found herself at her bedroom window, her forehead resting lightly against the glass. The Ether flows above the city pulsed in a steady rhythm, a heartbeat she had once trusted, once loved. Now it felt like the ticking of a clock, counting down to something she couldn't yet name.
Behind her, the soft creak of her door as someone called for her. "Ellie?"
It was her father's voice, roughened not by anger, but concern. He stepped into the room, his robe loose at the collar, his silver hair tousled by the late hour.
"You're troubled," Caelarion said as he came closer. "Did something happen tonight?" He offered a faint smile, almost teasing, as if expecting her sadness to be the petty grief of a girl.
Ellowyn didn't turn. She kept her eyes on the forest beyond the Dome, now distant, almost unreachable. She drew a shaky breath.
"Dad... would you always tell me the truth?" she whispered.
There was a pause, so slight that only someone desperate would notice it.
Caelarion's hand came to rest lightly on her shoulder.
"I will always do what is best for you," he said. "For you, for our family. That is the truth that matters."
Ellowyn turned to face him, searching his expression, and in that moment, something cracked wide open inside her.
"Where is Talanar Vaelwyn?" she asked, her voice trembling despite her effort to steady it.
"I went to the Academy today. I wanted to wish him well, to see him. But..." Her throat closed. "They wouldn't even let me near him. They just looked at me."
Her father's mouth pressed into a thin line.
"Talanar is well," he said firmly. "I saw him recently. His re-education is proceeding."
But when will we see him again?" she asked, her words spilling faster now. "Tomorrow? Next week?"
Caelarion's gaze grew sharper.
"That depends," he said. "Sometimes re-education takes months. Years. It depends on whether the caretakers judge him ready."
Ellowyn blinked, stunned.
"Judge... him?" she echoed. "For what? What did he do that was so wrong?"
Her father's voice hardened.
"He spoke when he should have listened. He doubted when he should have trusted. That is all you need to know."
Ellowyn flinched, wrapping her arms tightly around herself.
"And you?" she asked, her voice brittle. "Do you truly believe that's all?"
"Enough," Caelarion snapped, taking a step back. "You are young, Ellowyn. You do not yet understand the dangers of doubt. Trust me. Trust your people. Trust the path laid before you."
A tense silence stretched between them, long and taut.
Then, just as he turned to leave, Ellowyn whispered, "Dad... what are shadows?"
He froze. Slowly, Caelarion turned, a brittle chuckle escaping.
"My dear moonshine," he said, voice light but strained, "shadows are everywhere. Beneath every leaf, under every stone. There's nothing strange about them."
"But not those shadows," she said, stepping forward.
Her chin lifted, her hands shaking with something fierce and unfamiliar.
"I mean... are there evil shadows? Creatures that lurk outside the Dome?"
The color drained from Caelarion's face.
"Where," he asked very slowly, "did you hear such nonsense?"
Ellowyn faltered. "I... I overheard travelers…" saying without looking at her father in the eye.
He studied her for a long moment, then his mouth twisted into a bitter smile.
"I should have known," he muttered. "That Kinitu. Their poisoned songs. Their love of sowing fear."
His posture stiffened, his eyes tightened, His voice sharpened, each word came precise and sharp like a blade..
"I allowed that foxling to visit because I believed he would respect our peace, our rules."
Ellowyn's fists clenched.
"You knew about him," she said. "And you said nothing."
"I trusted he would not break our pact," Caelarion said coldly. "But it seems even wild things cannot resist corrupting the innocent."
The words hit her like stone. Ellowyn's breath caught, tears rising, not from helplessness, but from anger.
"He came for help…" Ellowyn said first, her voice shaking, barely more than a whisper.
Caelarion narrowed his eyes. "What help?"
She swallowed hard, clutching the scarf tighter against her chest.
"Their village... something was attacking them. Creatures. Shadows. He said they were losing. He asked me to help them, to bend the Ether and hold them back"
Her voice broke as the pain swelled in her chest.
"I almost went. But I was afraid. I thought obeying was the right thing to do. But now…"
Tears streamed down her cheeks.
"My heart aches, Father. It aches because I know... I chose wrong."
She held the scarf in front of her father like a banner of accusation, her hand trembling.
"Rikuin is dead," she said, her voice cracking. "He came asking for help, and I turned him away."
For a moment, Caelarion said nothing.
Then, slowly, his face hardened, not with sorrow, but with something colder.
"The insolence," he hissed under his breath. "That little creature dared to ask you to abandon your place? To defy your duties and our rules!?"
He shook his head, the silver in his hair flashing like a blade in the dim light.
"You did right to stay," he said, his voice rising. "You listened to reason. You followed the Eldian way. That is what keeps us safe, while fools outside the Dome perish in their own chaos."
"You did right to stay," he said, voice rising, sharp and unyielding.
"You listened to the voice of reason. You followed the way of your people. That is the Eldian way. That is what keeps us safe while fools beyond the Dome perish in their own folly."
Ellowyn stood motionless, the scarf trembling in her fingers as she tried to keep herself on her feet as a flood of emotions rushed through her.
Caelarion's eyes glinted.
"I will see that these matters are handled," he said. "The Council will take steps to ensure this never happens again."
She stepped forward as if his words burned her skin.
"And what about his people?" she asked hoarsely. "Will you send help?"
Caelarion met her gaze, but said nothing.
Instead, he offered a shallow bow, stiff, ceremonial, devoid of comfort.
"Goodnight, Ellowyn," he said. "Grieve if you must. But remember who you are."
His voice was almost gentle, but beneath it, steel rang clear. Without another word, he turned and left. The door clicked shut behind him, quiet and final, like a tomb sealed.
Ellowyn sank to a chair by the window long after his footsteps faded.
She clutched the ruined scarf to her chest, as though it were the only thing left tethering her to a world she no longer recognized.
Outside, the night pressed against the glass, dark and endless, until even her own reflection disappeared into its depths.
-break-
The next morning, Ellowyn moved like a ghost through her duties. The Blue Forest shimmered beneath the pale light, its Ether blooms swaying in silent song. She worked with the herbalist teams, fingers tracing the same practiced motions, pluck, seal, sort, but her mind drifted elsewhere. The ruined scarf lay folded in the pocket of her robe, pressing like a stone against her side with every step.
Around her, life in Yal Elunore continued untouched. Serene. Orderly. As if nothing had happened. As if no hearts had broken. A burden that only her knew, and questions without clear answers.
She was gathering a cluster of Moonlace blossoms when the first chime sounded, a low, deliberate toll that echoed through the glades.
Then another.
And another.
The sound deepened, rolling like thunder through the trees. Ellowyn straightened. The others around her paused, murmuring. Heads lifted. Satchels were dropped.
A voice, clear and commanding, wove itself into the Ether currents, carried by unseen threads through every branch and stone:
"All citizens of Yal Elunore, assemble at the Central Spire. A decree from the Council shall be announced."
The words thrummed against Ellowyn's ribs.
She brushed dust from her hands, her heart thudding strangely, and joined the slow, gathering tide of her people, drawn toward the city's heart—toward the place where everything would change.
The streets narrowed as the crowd thickened, a river of pale robes and bowed heads. Ether lanterns swung from the high arches above, their cold light casting long, trembling shadows across the stone.
Ellowyn moved through it all like a leaf adrift on a current, her fingers unconsciously curled around the fold of the scarf hidden in her sleeve.
A familiar figure emerged through the press of bodies.
"Aeryn," she breathed, reaching for him.
He turned at the sound of her voice, his face pale and drawn. The dark circles beneath his eyes had deepened. Without speaking, he stepped beside her, shoulder to shoulder.
"Do you know what this is about?" she whispered.
Aeryn shook his head, his jaw set tight.
"No. But whatever it is... it feels wrong."
Together they faced the center of the plaza, where the great Spire rose into the swirling mist and the banners of Yal Elunore hung limp and heavy in the still air.
When the Herald appeared, robed in deep blue and silver, a hush fell over the crowd. It was the kind of silence that crushed even the smallest breath.
He unfurled a long scroll, its surface shimmering faintly like woven Ether. His voice rang out, sharp and brittle as frost:
"By decree of the Eldian Council, for the safety and preservation of Sylvanmyr…"
A murmur rippled through the crowd. Beside her, Ellowyn felt Aeryn go rigid.
"All Kinitu are henceforth forbidden entry to Yal Elunore and its surrounding regions within the Dome perimeter. Any Kinitu found trespassing shall be apprehended."
A sharp gasp burst from the assembly, a wave of voices crashing against the stone. Some faces paled. Others hardened, as though hearing a long-awaited truth.
"Any citizen found consorting with them shall be subject to re-education."
This time, the reaction was not one of shock, but agreement.
A hush settled again, thicker, colder.
Ellowyn stood unmoving, the words sinking into her bones like frostbite. She searched the faces around her, looking for even one that mirrored her horror. But she saw only slow nods, sharpened eyes, lips drawn into lines of grim approval.
The mouths of people who had already decided what was necessary, what was justified. Her stomach turned. Beside her, Aeryn's fists were clenched, his knuckles bone-white.
Ellowyn pressed the scarf closer to her heart, its tattered fabric trembling against her chest like a second, frantic heartbeat. For the first time, the warmth she had always known within the Dome felt distant. Faint. As though the Ether itself had drawn away. Not in anger. Not in grief.
But in pride. Pride carved into silence.
It was a heaven of order.
A heaven of peace.
A silent heaven.
And somewhere deep inside her, something stirred. The seed, once buried, small, quiet, forgotten, split open. It pressed upward through her ribs like a blade of wild grass, trembling and alive with yearning, with question, with hunger for truth no one dared speak.
In the back of her mind, a voice surfaced, Rikuin's, full of laughter and something softer, older: "Not all dangers come with horns and claws. Some come softly. Some look very much like home."
She clutched the scarf tighter, breath shallow. She didn't yet understand what was breaking inside her. Only that it had begun. And would not be stopped.
The seed unfurled, wild and inevitable, finding every crack in the foundation of the silent heaven around her. And though her lips remained still, a promise bloomed quietly in her chest:
She would find the truth, no matter what it cost.
-break-
That evening, Ellowyn barely made it through the front door before her fury erupted.
She burst into the sitting room, the ruined scarf clenched in her hand like a blade. The scent of wild herbs and Ether lanterns hung in the air, but it felt distant, irrelevant, burned away by the fire in her chest.
Caelarion looked up from his place near the hearth, startled. He rose quickly, concern flickering across his face.
"Ellowyn…"
"How could you?" she snapped, voice raw. "How could you do this? Because of you, because of me, the Kinitu are banished!"
Caelarion straightened, his face a mask of control, though a crack showed beneath it.
"I did what was necessary to protect our people."
"No." Ellowyn shook her head, tears threatening. "You did what was necessary to protect your pride."
His mouth tightened. The silver at his temples gleamed like sharpened steel.
"You speak of things you do not yet understand."
"Then make me understand!" she shouted. "Tell me why we must live behind walls! Tell me why silence means peace! "
But he said nothing. Only stood there, weighed down by silence.
"I trusted you," Ellowyn whispered. "I thought... maybe if I tried harder, obeyed longer, it would all make sense. But I can see now. I was wrong. This is all wrong."
She turned before he could answer and fled up the stairs, leaving him standing stiff and stunned, as if her words had carved something hollow inside him.