The moon hung high over the village of Greythorn, its pale light casting silvery beams through the windows of the Forrester cottage. Inside, the soft crackling of the hearth was the only sound, save for the occasional rustle of the wind outside.

Kaelen, a boy of five, slept soundly in his small bed, clutching a handmade stuffed fox. His chest rose and fell in the steady rhythm of dreams, oblivious to the quiet, urgent conversation happening in the next room.

"I can't stay," said the tall figure standing by the doorway. His voice, deep yet gentle, trembled with the weight of unspoken emotion. Elandor Forrester, Kaelen's father, was a striking man with sharp Elven features, his long silver hair catching the moonlight like strands of starlight. His green eyes, usually calm and wise, were filled with sorrow as they met Mirelle's gaze.

"You don't have to do this," Mirelle whispered, her voice barely audible over the crackling fire. Her hands clenched the edge of the wooden table, knuckles white with tension. "We can find another way, Elandor. Kaelen needs you. I need you."

Elandor stepped closer, his tall frame towering over Mirelle but his movements soft, deliberate. He reached out, brushing a strand of dark hair from her face. "If there were another way, I would stay. But they're hunting me, Mirelle. They'll find me, and when they do, they'll come for you and Kaelen."

She shook her head, tears glistening in her brown eyes. "You don't know that. They don't have to find us here. Greythorn is far from their reach."

"They will find us," he said, his voice firm now. "The Eldralith Codex is too powerful for them to ignore, and I am the last guardian. I have to lead them away from you, from him." He glanced toward the small room where Kaelen slept, his expression softening.

Mirelle followed his gaze, her tears spilling freely now. "He won't understand," she whispered. "He'll think you abandoned him."

Elandor's hand clenched into a fist at his side before he forced it to relax. "One day, he'll know the truth. He'll know how much I love him. How much I love both of you."

He reached into his long cloak and pulled out a small leather pouch, worn but intricately stitched with silver thread in swirling patterns. Mirelle recognized it immediately—it had been at Elandor's side since the day they met.

"What is this?" she asked, her voice breaking.

"These," he said, placing the pouch in her hands, "are for Kaelen. When he's ready. They're... pieces of me. Of my magic, my legacy. They'll guide him when I can't."

Mirelle looked at the pouch, feeling the faint hum of magic emanating from within. It was warm to the touch, like a heartbeat. "Elandor..."

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers, his voice a whisper. "Raise him well. Keep him safe. He's stronger than either of us know, but he'll need time. When the time comes, he'll understand his destiny. I just hope I'm still alive to see the man he becomes."

The words lingered in the air, heavy and final.

Elandor stepped back, pulling his hood over his silver hair. His silhouette, framed by the doorway, seemed both ethereal and resolute.

"Goodbye, Mirelle," he said, his voice breaking for the first time.

"Goodbye," she whispered, clutching the pouch tightly against her chest.

Elandor turned and walked out into the night, the door closing softly behind him. Mirelle stood there for a long time, tears streaming silently down her face. When she finally moved, it was to check on Kaelen.

She found him still asleep, his small hand clutching the stuffed fox, a faint smile on his face as if he were dreaming of something happy. Mirelle knelt beside his bed, brushing a gentle kiss across his forehead.

"I'll protect you," she whispered, her voice trembling. "For as long as I can."

Outside, the wind carried Elandor's figure into the forest, where the shadows swallowed him whole.