Silver Oath
Then she spoke, her voice softening.
“My name is Elira Vaelthorn. And you’re right—I am no merchant. I am an elf of Sylvaen.”
Kaelen blinked. The name stirred faint memories of stories whispered in the tavern, tales of an unseen city hidden deep in the forests, where elves lived beyond the reach of men.
“Then why are you here?” he asked.
Elira lowered herself against a tree trunk, pressing a hand to her wound. Her silver hair spilled across her shoulders like liquid moonlight. She looked less like a traveler and more like a fallen star.