Sparks drifted from the fire as a log collapsed. Farda didn't flinch. He wasn't looking at the fire. He was looking to his right, where Ella sat with her back against a rock, her legs pulled to her chest, her gaze lost in the flames. Faenir was curled up at her side, his head resting on his paws, his eyes focused upwards, never leaving Ella.
She hadn't spoken since they'd fled the camp. Not in days. At night she shook and trembled, the wolfpine sitting by her side like a tireless sentinel. By the light of day she walked, ate, drank, and then waited for the sun to set. Farda didn't like it. Something was very wrong.
To Farda's left, Hala got to her feet, dirt crunching under her boots. In the light of the fire, the woman's white hair stood in even starker contrast to the dark of night. She stared at Ella for a moment, then let out a sigh. "I'm going to join Ilyain on watch. He's blind, after all. Come to think of it, calling it watch is a little insensitive – only took me a few hundred years to realise that. Better late than never." She leaned down to Farda as she passed, dropping her voice to a whisper. "Try and get her to talk. This is all a little pointless if we don't know where we're going. If she doesn't, I vote south. Vaerleon or Land's End. Somewhere far away from this madness. Perhaps even Karvos – they make good rum." Hala stood back to her full height, then walked to Ella, holding out a waterskin and shaking it, the water sloshing within. "You need to drink more, whether you speak or not."
Ella didn't turn her gaze from the fire, but Faenir was on his feet in a matter of seconds, hackles raised, lips pulling back, a vicious growl resonating in his throat, the light of the fire causing his eyes to gleam an unnatural white.
Hala rolled her eyes, tossing the waterskin on the ground beside Ella and walking off. "Fucking wolves…"
"Wolfpine," Farda whispered, watching as the night swallowed Hala. Faenir gave a final grunt and dropped himself back down beside Ella, his head resting on his paws.
"You're going to have to speak eventually." Farda picked up a twig and snapped it into pieces, tossing the bits into the fire one by one. "Otherwise we'll be roaming for the rest of our lives."
Silence passed between them save for the crackling of the fire, then Ella's gaze shifted, and she was staring at him, her eyes flickering amber. "Did you know?"
"Know what? About the acolyte? Rist Havel?"
Ella just stared. There was something changed in her, something altered in her foundations. She had always been sharp, always quick with her wit, and she'd always possessed a spirit unlike any he'd known. But now she was… colder, both strong and brittle, like paper-thin steel.
"No," Farda said, honestly. "I had no idea."
"All you do is lie."
Farda raised an eyebrow.
"You knew who I was the entire time. From the moment I met you in Gisa. The only reason you got Shirea and me on that ship was because you knew who I was and who Calen was. What was your plan, capture me, use me as bait?"
There was an apathy in Ella's voice, a sense of distance that unsettled Farda.
"Yes." He nodded, biting the insides of his cheeks as he looked into the fire. There was no sense in lying to her. She already knew, that much was clear, and her mind was quicker than his.
"You could have taken me at any point from Gisa to Berona. Why didn't you?"
"I told myself it would be easier if you walked on your own two feet, less of a struggle." Farda shook his head. "But in truth, I don't know why."
"Did you kill Shirea?"
Farda nodded. He heard Ella drawing in a long breath. He'd expected her to charge at him, claw at his face, try to run him through with his own sword, but as he lifted his gaze, he saw she was just sitting there staring into the flames.
"You left me to be taken in Berona," she said, never looking at him. "That much I worked out a long time ago. Those men came for me too quickly for it to have been coincidence. You were sent to take me. You killed Shirea. You left me for dead in Berona." Ella met Farda's gaze, the first sign of emotion touching her face in the tremble of her lip. "Why are we here? Why did you break me free? What games are you playing, Farda? I'm too tired for games."
Farda pulled his gaze from Ella's and studied the dry earth at his feet. He tapped his hand against his pocket, feeling the click of his nail against the coin. He hesitated for a moment, then pulled the coin from his pocket, the dulled metal glinting in the firelight.
"Not that fucking coin." Ella shook her head, a growl creeping into her voice.
Farda held the coin in his left palm, tracing his fingers over its time-worn surface. "Ilyain and Hala told me you were with Farwen. She's alive by the way – Hala has known Farwen since Farwen was a child. She let her go."
That caught Ella's attention, a flicker of relief in her eyes.
"If Farwen was there, I'm assuming Coren isn't far either. Those two have been inseparable for a long time." Farda flicked the coin, letting it drop into his palm. Lions. He swallowed hard. "Two hundred and forty-nine years ago, my dragon, Shinyara, died."
Ella lifted her gaze, but judging by the lack of surprise on her face, Farda figured Coren had already told her that part.
He drew in another breath, his throat tightening, a tremble setting into his hands. "The day she died…" He stopped. Across the centuries, if there was one thing that re-tethered Farda's emotions to his heart, even for a moment, it was Shinyara. His light. His soul. He clenched his jaw. "The day she died, I had a choice to make. Another Draleid, Aeson Virandr, along with his companions, had killed three of my kin, ripped them apart while they slept. It was dark, stormclouds blanketed the sky and lightning tore through the air. There were two of us to their four. We had two dragons, they had three. Shinyara didn't want to pursue them. There were too many, and the storm was too bad. She was scared. For me and for her. Linare and Teranaine didn't want to go, either. 'Enough blood had been spilled that night,' Linare said."
Ella was staring at him now, as was Faenir.
"But I couldn't let it go." Rage bubbled in him at the memories of his three brothers and their soulkin lying broken across the ground, flashes of lightning illuminating their savaged remains. "I stood on the cliff where we had landed, the rain battering me, so heavy it may as well have been a waterfall. And I pulled this coin from my pocket." He stared down at the battered coin, flicking it over and back. Crowns. Lions. "I said to Linare, 'If it lands on crowns, we turn back, but if it lands on lions, we follow them, we rip them from the air, and break them against the cliff.' I was so arrogant back then. She agreed. I flipped the coin. It landed on crowns."
Farda lifted his gaze towards the cloud-covered sky of black. "I stuffed the coin into my pocket and refused to turn back. I mounted Shinyara and rode after them. Teranaine and Linare were struck by lightning trying to keep up. Linare died instantly and Teranaine cried out as she fell. Within moments, the Draleid we were chasing fell upon Shinyara and me. We sent two to dine in Achyron's halls, but they had already torn strips through Shinyara's wings. We ripped the last pair, Halder and Toring, from the world as we fell, and then we crashed on the cliff. I should have turned back, and because I didn't, Shinyara died that night. Aeson Virandr drove his blades through her skull and tossed me from the cliff into the waters of the Lightning Coast. By some miracle of the gods or a twisted joke, I washed up on the shore near Bromis the next morning. I wish I'd died – part of me did. In the Old Tongue, they call us Rakina. It means 'one who is broken'. But when a dragon dies, you're not broken. No…" Farda shook his head, his hand closing around the coin. "You're shattered. Your soul is shredded and splintered, its many fragments thrown to the wind. You are nothing, you are nobody. All you feel is empty, and cold, and wrong. That's why I trust the coin. That's why I let fate decide. Partly because everything lost meaning after Shinyara died, but partly because the one time I didn't listen to fate, I lost the only thing left in this world that I cherished. And with her she took my pain, my love, and my happiness…"
Farda stared at the coin in his palm, his finger tracing its time-worn edge. Tears trickled down his cheeks. It had been so long since he had cried, he'd forgotten what it felt like. "You want to know why I came back for you?" Farda let out a short laugh. "In truth, I'm not entirely sure myself. But for the first time... Ella?"
Hearing shifting and tossing, the crunching of dirt, Farda lifted his gaze to see Ella lying on her back, convulsing, her hands twisted towards her chest. He leapt to his feet, but Faenir bounded towards him, head lowered, hackles raised, nose crinkled in a snarl. He was more a bear than a wolfpine.
"Get out of the way, you stupid animal!" Farda took a step towards Ella, who still lay convulsing on the ground, but Faenir snapped his jaws, his amber eyes cold and savage. "What are you doing? Let me help her!"
Feanir stared back at Farda. The creature's eyes gleamed with understanding, but he didn't move. The wolfpine backed across Ella, standing over her convulsing body, snapping and snarling at Farda.
Farda looked down at Ella. She was spasming, her head jerking side to side. He met Faenir's amber gaze. "Let me help her, or I will go through you."
Faenir lowered his head and arched his back even more, saliva dripping from the his jaws.
"Fucking wolfpine." Farda dove forwards, reaching out to the Spark and pulling on threads of Earth and Spirit. He raised his right arm as Faenir lunged. The wolfpine's jaws closed around Farda's forearm. He felt pressure but not the pain. Faenir thrashed his head left and right, trying to rip Farda's limb to pieces, but Farda bound the threads of Earth and Spirit and pushed them into the skin and bone of his arm, thickening them, hardening them. He could only strengthen them so much though, and it wouldn't be long before the creature snapped straight through.
Farda dropped to his knees beside Ella, pushing his arm back at Faenir, trying to keep the wolfpine at bay, the pressure building and building.
"Ella!" He grabbed at her head with his free hand, his shoulder jerking back as Faenir pulled at him. Ella's eyes were closed, rolling back and forth behind the lids.
"Farda?" Hala dropped from atop the ridge behind Ella, shock and urgency in her voice. She ripped her sword from its scabbard, charging forwards as Ilyain following her.
"No!" Farda called out. He felt a snap in his arm. "Stay back!"
"Farda, we—"
"No!" He shook Ella, grabbing the back of her head. "Ella! Ella!" Farda could feel the warm blood trickling down his arm, feel the Spark draining from him as the threads of Earth and Air woven into his skin and bone gave way. Then, it stopped. The pressure lifted.
His chest heaving, Farda turned to see the wolfpine had let go and now stood looking back at Farda, his snarl gone, his hackles lowered, the fur around his muzzle wet with blood. Farda's arm was a mess of punctures and bite marks, blood still pouring, but for the most part, it was intact. The threads of Earth and Spirit had prevented the wolfpine from simply tearing it clean off. He would deal with it after.
He turned his attention back to Ella. The spasms and convulsions had stopped. Farda cupped his hand around Ella's cheek and pulled her head towards him. "Ella? Ella, open your eyes."
Hala dropped to the ground beside Farda. She glanced warily at Faenir, who, barring the blood that dripped from his muzzle, now looked as placid as a pup. She grabbed at Farda's arm, looking over the damage. "What the fuck were you thinking?"
Farda glanced back at Hala but only grunted.
"Farda?" Ella croaked.
"Ella." Farda looked down to see Ella's eyes were open, her irises shifting like molten gold. "Talk to me." He patted at her cheek as her eyelids drooped. "Stay awake. Talk to me."
In the back of his mind he felt Hala weaving threads through his arm. She wasn't a Healer, but she knew enough to keep him from dying of blood loss. A crunch let him know she'd fixed his broken bone.
Ella groaned, blood trickling from her lips from where she must have bit down while convulsing. Her eyes were fully open now. She shook her head, pushing herself upright so her back rested against the rock behind her.
"It's not pretty, but it'll do." Hala let out a sigh, patting Farda's forearm and dropping onto her backside. She glared at Faenir. "I would have just killed the beast."
Farda glanced at his arm to see it was now a mess of pink and white scars, blood staining his skin. It looked exactly as it should have – as though he'd been savaged by a massive wolfpine and somehow survived. He thanked the gods Shinyara had taken his pain.
"I heard something," Ella muttered, becoming more lucid. She brought her left hand to the side of her head, pressing her fingers into her temple. "It was like a… a high pitched noise that stabbed through my head."
Farda opened and closed his hand, testing his fingers still worked, eliciting stiff pops and cracks. Good, I like that hand. He looked back at Ella. "Are you all right?"
Ella nodded, wincing. "It was like someone was pushing their thoughts into my mind. Images, words, feelings… I saw my brother." Ella looked at Farda, and her eyes widened, then narrowed.
"You can trust me, Ella. I promise."
"Trust you?" Ella shifted where she sat, pushing herself back against the rock, the fingers of her left hand still pressing into her temple. "All you've done is lie. Every word that leaves your lips is a lie. You are the last person I can trust."
Farda leaned a little closer. "What I told you about Shinyara. The only other people who know what happened that night are Aeson Virandr, Hala, and Ilyain. Almost two hundred and fifty years and I've now only told three people."
"You're with the empire."
"I walked away from the empire the moment I carried you from that camp, the moment I killed a woman I respected to break you free."
"I never asked you do to that."
"Well it's done."
Ella looked from Farda, to Faenir, then at the mess of scars that was Farda's arm. Her eyes softened. "I saw Calen and a dragon – a white one. It wasn't even half the size of the ones the Dragonguard rode. They were in a forest and a city built from stone as white as the dragon's scales." She grimaced, rolling her neck, pressing her fingers harder against her temple. "It's like a nail has been pulled from my head."
"What else did you see?" Ilyain moved so he stood behind Farda, his arms clasped behind his back.
"How's your face?" Ella growled, her lip pulling back to expose teeth that looked to sharpen as she spoke, four fangs lengthening.
"I'm sure it looks as pretty as yours does right now," Ilyain said without missing a beat. He dropped to one knee beside Farda, looking in Ella's general direction, though Farda knew his eyes saw nothing. "I only attacked you because you were attacking us. Now, if you're done, I believe I may know what you experienced."
Ella's lip trembled, her eyes still flickering molten gold, but her teeth returned to normal, fangs shortening. "Go on."
"There are creatures called Angan – shapeshifters, guardians and servants of the druidic gods. They have the ability to communicate with each other across great distances using only their minds. Aldruids – such as you – can tap into these communications, but only if they are sent by Angan of the same clan as their patron god."
"Their patron god?"
"The Angan and druids of old worshipped five gods wrought in flesh. In this case, given the wolf, I believe you to be a daughter of Fenryr."
"And how do you know all this?"
Ilyain paused for a moment. Farda knew how hard it was for Ilyain to talk of Andras.
"My love – my Ayar Elwyn – Andras, was an Aldruid of Bjorna, though he spent his life hiding it. The details aren't important, but Andras often experienced what you just did, though over time he learned to control himself when it happened. What did you hear, see, feel? The Angan communicate in images, emotions, and feelings as well as words."
Ella's stare flitted between Ilyain, Farda, and Hala. "No." She pressed her hands against the rock behind her and pushed herself to her feet, stumbling sideways, Faenir moving to her side. "I'm not telling you anything. I'm not."
She took a step forwards but stumbled, and Farda caught her by the shoulder. "Where do you think you're going?"
"Get your hands off me." Ella swatted Farda's hand away, staggering backwards before stabilising herself.
"We can help you find him, Ella."
"Help me? You've been trying to find him from the start. Was this all part of your plan? How fucked up are you? I'm not leading you to him!"
"Imperial scouts are combing through every square inch of land from here to Fort Harken. They're not just looking for you, they're looking for us." Farda slapped his chest and gestured to Hala and Ilyain. "We risked our lives to get you out of there. And if you try and go out there on your own, they will have you strung up by the time the sun sets tomorrow. Then you will know what true torture is." Farda grabbed Ella by the shoulders, ignoring the growls from Faenir. "Look into my eyes." Farda's heart was beating harder than he'd it felt in centuries. She was just so gods damned stubborn. "I don't know what it is you've done to me, but when you're near, I don't feel so fucking broken. That's why I came back. That's why I'm here. And if the last thing I do is get you back to your brother, then at least I'll have done something decent in the last four hundred years that would explain why I'm still alive while Shinyara is dead. There has to be a fucking reason I'm still here. Now let me help you."
Farda's hands shook as he held Ella's shoulders. He could kill her for making him feel like this – for making him feel anything at all. Shinyara had taken that from him; it belonged to her. Ella had no right to give it back to him. He let go of Ella's shoulders, turning away, meeting Hala's gaze for a fleeting moment. The pity in her eyes only served to further drive the rage in his cold icy heart.
"The message was meant for someone else." Ella's voice cut through the silence. Farda didn't turn. He stayed staring at the ground, the light from the fire flickering. His hands still shook. "I don't understand everything, but there's a gathering… I think. Or, an invitation. The images were of a forest that spread into the distance. Dark thunderclouds overhead. Lightning. It felt… wrong. As though it was a place of sanctuary but also of great fear, as though something was watching… I don't know, that's all I could understand."
"It's enough." Farda lifted his gaze to see Hala walking towards him.
"The Darkwood," Ilyain said. "We've known for a long time that elves had taken refuge there. Aeson has many friends amongst the elves, and the Aldithmar claim the wood as their own. It would make sense that he would go there."
"With the emergence of the Lynalion elves, we can't take a ship from the Lightning Coast – not that I'd want to." Hala scrunched her mouth, contemplating. "And the Burnt Lands is all but impassable. If we go northwest we can take a riverboat from Catagan to the coast. Gisa will likely be under lockdown, but we could sail past the Bay of Light. Maybe dock at Kingspass or Falstide. It will take a bit longer, but we won't run into any patrols. Between the three of us, we are owed enough favours for a hundred lifetimes."
Farda straightened his back, clenching his jaw and letting out a long breath through his nostrils, settling himself. He cupped his hands to his face and rubbed away the grime and tears. "Neither of you need come," he said to Hala and Ilyain. "This journey does not end happily. You know that."
"We've lived too long anyway," Hala said. "Our endings were never meant to be happy."
Ilyain's hand rested on his shoulder. "Like we've said – if we're to die, we'd rather do it with our own kind. I've lived too long to die fighting for something I don't care about anymore. Besides, I would very much like to lay eyes on this new Draleid. If Aeson allows it before taking our heads. It's about time we faced our past."
"I can't just go." Ella stepped forwards, stumbling a little, her legs still weak. She looked at Farda for a long moment, her gaze feeling as though it was boring into his skull. "Coren and the others. I need to let them know I'm all right."
"We go now, or we don't go at all, Ella. Coren will want us dead on sight. Our history is… complicated."
Faenir padded over to Ella, brushing his muzzle against her shoulder. He let out a low whine, his ears folding back against his head, his eyes seeming as though they were asking a question.
Ella scratched at the wolfpine's cheek. "All right," she whispered to Faenir. After a moment she looked to Farda, her eyes having returned to their natural green. "How long will it take?"
"Before we get into that," Hala said, stepping closer. "We came back to tell you we have company."
Tanner slid his sword from its scabbard as quietly as the steel would allow, wiping the sweat from his brow as he did. Ahead, he could see the flames of the campfire flickering against the walls of the alcove nestled into the rock.
Farwen moved to his left, Yana to his right, both of them with swords in hand.
"Remember," Farwen whispered, "one or more of them can touch the Spark. We need to rush them, take them quick."
Tanner nodded, knowing Farwen wasn't looking at him. He tightened his grip around his sword, the muscles in his forearm squeezing. When he'd heard Ella had been taken back at the imperial camp, the air had fled his lungs. If it hadn't been for Farwen assuring him they would get her back, he would have gone after her there and then. Yana had been worse; he'd had to hold her down.
"I didn't let you go just to have to kill you again, young one." The voice echoed in the night, bouncing off the rock.
Tanner stopped in his tracks, Farwen and Yana doing the same.
Farwen looked about, her eyes tracing the low ridge line that ran towards the alcove ahead, stopping as though she'd seen something – though how she had seen anything in the pitch black he had no idea.
"We've come for the girl, Hala. We don't want a fight," Farwen called.
A figure stepped from the all-consuming dark, dropping from the low ridge to the ground. A woman stepped forwards, her hair white as snow, the fingers of her left hand curled into a fist. "That's good, young one. Because I won't let you live twice."
"Where is she?" The words left Yana's mouth in a growl as she took a step closer to the white-haired woman. Tanner reached out to pull her back, but she was already moving closer.
"Feisty." The woman smiled, looking at Yana as though amused. She didn't move an inch, but Tanner saw Farwen tense, and then Yana's sword was ripped from her hand by something unseen, clattering against the stone.
"Not that I think you could do anything worthwhile with it," the white haired woman said. "But I'm not a fan of sharp steel in my face. Call it a preference. Turn around, Farwen. Dylain was a friend, I do not wish to cause his soul any more pain."
"Don't you say his name." The raw anger in Farwen's voice was something Tanner had rarely seen from the elf. She had spoken of Dylain before – her old master at the time of The Fall – but his memory had always brought sadness, not anger. "Don't you dare ever say his name. Don't even think it."
"I knew him better than you, young one."
"You let him die."
"Two sides to every coin. Isn't that right, Farda?"
As if appearing from nowhere, Farda Kyrana stepped from the shadows to the left, one hand resting on the pommel of his sword. "Tanner Fjorn." Farda laughed. "Of all the people I thought I'd meet out here in these hills, you were not one of them. You got sick of the keep in Berona then?"
"You're the one who fled the Lorian camp. Change of heart yourself?"
"Interesting choice of words." The twist in Farda's lip was barely visible, illuminated only by the pale moonlight. "Is that Yana? Yana Veradis? There really were a lot of you rebels in Berona, weren't there? Leave now, and we can all walk away."
"We're not leaving without Ella." Yana stared at Farda, her voice firm. When she was like this, there was no turning her around.
"Well you're not leaving with her. Of that, I can assure you."
"Tanner?"
The hairs on Tanner's arms stood on end at the sound of Ella's voice. "Ella? Are you all right?"
Shadows flickered from within the alcove ahead, and two figures emerged, followed by a third that walked on four legs – Faenir.
Tanner walked forward, moving towards Ella, only to hear the rasp of steel and find the tip of Farda's blade pressed against his chest. Farda shook his head.
As Ella drew closer, Tanner could see she was limping, her hand resting on Faenir's back for balance. Her clothes were bloodstained, and a number of cuts and bruises marred her face and neck. The figure that walked beside her was an elf with dark hair and skin.
"Farda, put down the sword." Ella sounded weak, but there was a firmness in her voice.
Farda looked to her, eyes narrowing slightly, but kept his blade where it was.
Ella stopped a few feet away, a grimace twisting her face. She looked from Tanner, to Yana, to Farwen. "The others?"
"Juro is dead." Farwen answered. "As are Jaks and Ligin. Arlon, Ferol, Varik, and Suka all made it out safe. They're on their way back."
Ella nodded sombrely. "I'm not going back."
"What?" The word had left Tanner's mouth before his mind had filtered it. "Ella, what are you talking about?"
"I know where Calen is, Tanner. Farda is taking me."
"You can't trust him, Ella." The press of steel against leather reminded Tanner that Farda still held his blade against Tanner's chest. Both men stared into each other's eyes. "He wants you to lead him to Calen. That's all he's wanted from the beginning."
Ella and Farda exchanged a glance. "There's more to it, Tanner. Thank you, for everything you've done, but I can't go back. Please, just go. You've already done so much for me. Calen is the only family I have left, and he's alone. He would never leave me, and I'm not leaving him."
"And I'm not leaving you." Yana slid her sword into her scabbard, moving closer to Ella. "We're coming with you."
"We're what?" Tanner could do nothing to hold the shock from his voice.
"We're going with her." Yana said plainly. "I'm not leaving her on her own with these people."
"These people have names," the white-haired woman said with a shrug.
"Yana…" Ella looked from Yana to Farda, then back. "Yana, it's all right. You've already—"
"No." Yana shook her head. "You're not about to rationalise us away. I can't speak for Farwen, but I can damn well speak for that big idiot." Yana gestured to Tanner. "We're going with you. Your brother is the Draleid. If you're going to find him, I'm sure we'll find plenty of rebellion there too. We're not letting you go alone. It's not happening. So either you let us come with you, or I carry you back over my shoulder."
Yana was not the kind of person to grow fond of someone, and Tanner had seen the way she acted around Ella: like a mother wolf watching over her cub. So, he stared at the woman he loved, his heart almost breaking at the way her voice trembled.
"We're coming with you, Ella. For Rhett. It's not a discussion." Tanner clenched his jaw as he waited for the response. He would soon see if Ella was as 'free' as Farda was claiming.
"All right." Ella limped forwards and opened her arms to Yana.
Yana pulled Ella into a hug, rubbing her back, and Tanner could hear her whisper, "You stupid, stupid girl."
Ella's laughter brought a smile to his face. He raised his eyebrows to Farda, who pulled the sword from Tanner's chest.
"Who'd have seen this coming?" Farda pursed his lips in amusement, sliding his sword into its scabbard. "Tanner Fjorn, High Captain of the Beronan Guard – a rebel. And now here we are. Fascinating how the world works."
Tanner grunted at Farda, turning to see Farwen approaching.
"I cannot go with you," Farwen said, grasping Tanner's forearm. "There is too much for me to do here. I must tell Coren everything that has happened." She leaned in close, lowering her voice. "You will always have a home in Tarhelm. When you reach your destination, send correspondence to Hilka, and be careful, Tanner. No matter what, don't drop your guard."
"I won't, I promise. Stay safe, Farwen. With what we witnessed at The Three Sisters, the North is a very different place."
Farwen nodded and squeezed Tanner's forearm, then walked to Farda, her stare cold. "If you—" She looked at the others, the elf and white-haired woman "If any of you bring even the slightest of harm to these people, I will personally hunt you down. I will make it my sole purpose."
"Draleid n'aldryr, Farwen. If we see each other again, maybe we will once more fight on the same side," the white-haired woman said as Farwen made to leave.
Farwen stopped. She looked back at the white-haired woman. "Forgiveness doesn't come that easily, Hala. Not for the things you've done."
"Farwen." Ella hobbled over to Farwen and pulled her into a hug. The elf took a moment to look shocked, then returned Ella's embrace. "Thank you, for everything. Please, tell Coren the same and that I will be back."
Farwen pulled away from Ella and nodded. "It will be done. It was a pleasure, Ella Fjorn. You would have made a fine Draleid. May the gods watch over you."
With that, Farwen turned and disappeared into the night.