Mag-log in(Selene’s POV)As we walked deeper into the city, the forest thinned into wide pathways of pale stone and living roots. Towers rose like grown crystal, curved and elegant, woven with vines that glimmered faintly under the sun. Everything looked alive, watching, listening.And I felt it.That same pressure again.“Don’t react,” Fenrir murmured beside me, his voice low. “The city is old. It senses magic instinctively.”“I’m not doing anything,” I whispered back.“That’s what worries me.”Winter craned his neck, staring at everything. “Okay, I officially feel underdressed.”Oragon shot him a look. “You always are.”Despite the tension, the city felt… calm. No alarms. No sudden movement. Elves passed us quietly, their gazes lingering just a second too long on Fenrir—and then sliding to me.Not hostile.Curious.Judging.Fenrir straightened unconsciously as we moved forward. His posture changed—subtle, but clear. He wasn’t just Fenrir the warrior here.He was Fenrir of the Silver Line.An
(Selene’s POV)I didn’t answer right away.The words echoed louder than anything else. Louder than the wind slipping through broken stone. Louder than my own breathing.I stared at the darkened sigil, my chest tight, my hands cold.“So that’s it,” I said quietly. “I’m the one preventing it from escaping? Just a lock?”Fenrir’s grip on my hand tightened, just a fraction. Not possessive. Protective. Like he was anchoring me to the ground in case I drifted apart.“You’re more than that,” he said immediately.“But that’s what I am to this world,” I replied, my voice steadier than I felt. “A solution. A tool.”“No,” Winter cut in sharply. “You’re a person who was forced into a role.”I looked at him. “Does that difference matter when the outcome is the same?”No one answered.Gabriel finally broke the silence. “Selene… the reason matters.”“Does it?” I asked. “Because all I hear is that if I fail—or if I walk away—something terrible gets loose.”“That’s not fair,” Fenrir said, anger flicke
(Selene’s POV)We didn’t sleep much that night.The fire burned low, crackling softly. I lay on my bedroll staring up at the sky, watching clouds drift past the stars. My body was tired, but my mind refused to rest.The stranger’s word echoed over and over in my head.I shifted slightly, turning my head. Fenrir was still awake, sitting a short distance away with his sword resting across his knees. His posture was relaxed, but I knew better by now. He was listening to everything—the forest, the wind, even my breathing.“You’re not sleeping either,” I said softly.He glanced at me. “Neither are you.”I sighed and pushed myself up, wrapping my cloak tighter around my shoulders. “I keep thinking about what he said.”Fenrir didn’t pretend not to know who I meant. “You shouldn’t let his words define you.”“I know,” I replied. “But he knew things. About you. About the seals. About me.”Fenrir looked into the fire for a long moment. The flames reflected in his eyes, turning them almost gold.
(Selene’s POV)We left the Elven Capital before dawn.The city was quieter than before.The glowing lanterns dimmed as we crossed the outer bridges, and the living trees slowly faded into dense forest. I glanced back once, watching the towers disappear behind layers of mist.Fenrir didn’t look back at all.We moved fast, but not recklessly. Elves had a way of traveling that felt almost unreal—light steps, silent paths, magic woven into movement itself. Fenrir led us through routes that didn’t exist on any map Gabriel carried. At times, the forest itself seemed to open for him, branches shifting just enough to let us pass.“You grew up learning these paths, didn’t you?” I asked quietly as we walked.“Yes,” Fenrir replied. “Before I was old enough to understand what they were really for.”“Which was?”“To move armies without being seen,” he said simply.That shut me up.Winter walked beside me, occasionally checking his scanner. “Seal activity is still rising,” he muttered. “But it’s… u
(Selene’s POV)The Elven Capital looked different at night.In daylight, everything felt open and gentle, sunlight filtering through leaves, magic humming softly in the air. But at night, the city revealed its age. Lanterns made of living crystal glowed along suspended bridges. Towers grown from stone and wood curved toward the stars, their surfaces etched with old runes that pulsed slowly, like breathing.I stood on a balcony outside the guest quarters, wrapped in a light cloak Fenrir had insisted I wear. The night air was cool but comforting. Below, the city moved quietly. Elves passed one another without urgency, voices low, steps measured. It felt like a place that had learned patience over centuries.Behind me, the door opened.“You should be resting,” Fenrir said gently.“I was,” I replied. “Then my thoughts got loud.”He stepped beside me, resting his forearms on the railing. For a moment, neither of us spoke.“You didn’t tell them everything,” I said at last.He didn’t pretend
(Selene’s POV)I woke up slowly, my body still heavy but no longer in pain. For a moment, I stayed still, listening. No alarms. No distant rumbling. No whispering voices clawing at the back of my mind.It was just...peaceful. And I kinda like it.The ruins felt far away now, like a dream I couldn’t quite shake. But the memory of the sigils—the way they responded to me, the voice that called me daughter of the first light—remained sharp and unsettling.I pushed myself upright.My head didn’t spin. My chest didn’t burn. Instead, there was a strange awareness inside me, like something had opened its eyes but chosen to stay quiet.A knock sounded at the door.“Selene?” Fenrir’s voice was low, careful.“Come in.”He stepped inside, already dressed for the day. The elven leathers he wore were darker than usual, stitched with silver thread that glimmered faintly when he moved. Here, surrounded by elven architecture and magic, he looked different—less like a wandering guardian, more like some







