"How... How do I use this?" Varelor whispered, fingers trembling as he drew the Wind Emerald from the bag. It pulsed once--softly, like a dying heartbeat--before slipping from his hands.

It shattered.

"No--no, this can't be!" he cried, dropping to his knees. The pieces scattered like starlight across the frostbitten ground. He scrambled, his hands bloodied by the jagged shards as he tried to force them back together, breath hitching, panic strangling his thoughts.

But then--he felt it.

A hand on his shoulder.

Warm. Comforting.

He turned.

Kaelira stood behind him, her eyes lifted skyward, her voice already rising with sacred reverence.

"Goddess Kaelhani," she called, "you who first placed this emerald upon our tribe--the breath of wind, the balance of the three realms--hear us now."

The wind hushed.

"The bloodline you entrusted is not lost. The heir stands before you--unsure, afraid, but willing. Let his wish be known. Let it be done. Bring back Elduriel--not as a weapon, but as the shield Everdaile needs."

As her voice rang out, a hush fell across the place. Then--the shards of the emerald began to glow, green light pulsing like leaves in spring wind. Varelor and Kaelira stared, hearts pounding, as the pieces lifted into the air, weightless.

Together, their hands guided them. One shard, then another. As the final sliver clicked into place, a blinding verdant light surged outward.

The emerald reformed, and with it, the scepter of the wind was whole once more.

A luminous beam--pure and green--shot toward Elduriel's still form. The energy enveloped her, coiling around the wound like ivy.

Then it dimmed.

The arrow was gone.

So was the golden blood.

Only a scar remained--etched like silver lightning over her scaled hide.

Varelor fell to his knees again--but this time, in awe. In hope.

And Elduriel breathed.

Kaelira smiled, her eyes shimmering as tears welled at the corners.

Then--Elduriel stirred.

The dragon slowly rose, her wings folding close against her sides. Her eyes--twin flames of amethyst and sapphire--locked onto Varelor.

"You!" she growled, her voice like thunder rolled through stone.

Varelor didn't move. He stood rooted, the wind sweeping past him like a whisper of judgment. He didn't run. He didn't plead. He only shut his eyes, ready to face what he had earned.

But when he opened them--they were kneeling.

Kaelira and Elduriel had bowed their heads before him.

"The real king has returned," Elduriel said, her voice no longer wrathful, but reverent. Almost... gentle.

Varelor staggered inwardly. A thousand thoughts collided in his mind, trying to pierce the veil of disbelief. 'Could it be true? Could he be the one they waited for?'

Yet beneath the storm of confusion, a flicker of light stirred. A quiet understanding, blooming like a new dawn behind his ribs.

"I'll bring the scepter back to my brother--before he wakes," he said softly, reaching for it.

But Kaelira stood suddenly, stepping in front of him.

"Wait."

She blocked his path. That's when Varelor saw them.

Burns. Scratches. Scars running across Kaelira's arms like stories written in pain.

He froze.

"I had almost sacrificed myself just to find Elduriel--and now you'll just throw that sacrifice away?" Kaelira's voice cracked. "My lord, I went to Sepphora alone. I crossed that city with nothing but a dying hope that you'd finally wake up. And thank the deities--you did. But that scepter, that Wind Emerald... I cannot let it be taken from this land again."

Varelor took a breath, eyes narrowing. "But you know no one else can use the gem here, right?" His words hung heavy--until a sharp sting of memory hit him. The vision of sentinels. The blood on Livian. The chaos the shattered gem had summoned.

His eyes widened. "Wait--did you plan to start a war between elves? You wanted to hide the gem from the king and let the pieces fall where they may?"

Kaelira flinched, but said nothing.

"Those demons--" his voice rose, fire lacing through it, "--they almost killed us. My brother could have died. You said the gem needed me, and now you want it left behind where it could shatter again? Your plan is--it's suicidal!"

Still, Kaelira stood firm. Her silence was loud. Her tears, louder.

"Who even are you?" Varelor asked, his voice sharp now. "How did the Mhydrillians put their trust in your words? This plan--this gamble--you could've destroyed Everdaile!"

Kaelira's jaw clenched, but her voice returned with a quiet fury. "You don't know how many had to die before they started believing me. Before they believed my father. He was the last general of the last true king. We gave everything for a single sliver of hope."

She stepped forward, her eyes glinting through tears. "Unlike you--I would do anything for justice. And your mother... she would've done the same."

Varelor blinked. His voice turned low. "Why do you keep bringing up my mother?"

Kaelira's expression shifted--grief, reverence, sorrow--like a story aching to be told. "Because the story begins with her."

She glanced up. "My father served King Fahravir--the last Mhydrillian king. He told me of the bond between Fahravir and Erathrin, brothers in all but blood. One from Sepphora. One from Mhydrille. Peacekeepers."

Varelor listened, breath shallow.

"But then... she came. Queen Haibarra of the merfolk--graceful, wild, radiant. She came to Everdaile during the Centennial Festival of the Two Moons. Both men fell in love with her."

"And she chose Fahravir," Varelor said slowly.

Kaelira nodded. "She did. But the sea has its laws. A mermaid cannot remain on land for long--not without dying. But Haibarra stayed, because she loved him. Because you were born."

Varelor's chest tightened.

"And Erathrin--furious, consumed by jealousy--betrayed his own best friend. He poisoned him, slowly, using the Graconiz flower. He broke Fahravir's mind, turned the people against him. Then he let the tragedy unfold--he forced the queen to stay until her body could no longer endure it. He let the dragon attack you. He forged a story where Elduriel was the monster, the king a madman, and himself--the savior."

Kaelira's voice now trembled with rage. "In the end, King Fahravir took his own life--before the very eyes of his people. Erathrin buried the truth and rewrote history. That is how your family fell."

Varelor stood still as stone, but inside, the truth rippled like a quake.

Alfira. I do not wish my bond with Livian to become what theirs was. I will not let history repeat itself.

Then it struck him like a quiet flame catching wind. They need me.
Not just Kaelira. Not just Elduriel. Everyone.

They need a ruler.

I've always wanted to prove myself to Father... that I'm more than just Livian's shadow. That I can be great. That I can lead. And now... here it is. My chance to do the right thing.

But then-- Alfira.

Her voice came back to him like a ghost.

"Swear you won't give the emerald to Elduriel."

That was her only condition. She didn't say he couldn't give it to those who truly deserve it.

Varelor slowly looked at the gem--its green light softly pulsing, reflecting his heartbeat.

He turned to Kaelira, resolve blooming in his chest.

"Here's the plan," he said. "I won't bring this back to them. I'll keep my word. But I need to make sure they return to Sepphora--safe and alive."

Kaelira raised an eyebrow. "How?"

"I'll return to camp... just to lull them to sleep. No harm," he clarified quickly. "Once they're resting, Elduriel will take them. She'll fly them back to Sepphora. It'll be fast. It'll avoid the dangers we faced getting here."

Kaelira studied him for a moment, as though weighing the boy she once thought a prince... and the man slowly becoming a king.

"You're learning to bend the rules," she finally said.

Varelor smirked faintly, though the weight in his chest remained. "I'm not bending them. I'm walking the line between loyalty and justice. If that makes me a king... then so be it."

"What if the king's army sees Elduriel?" Kaelira asked, her voice tight with worry. "They might not wait for orders. They might kill her on sight."

Varelor paused, eyes flicking up to the pale sky as if trying to read the future in the fading stars.

"The festival," he whispered.

Kaelira frowned. "What?"

He turned to her. "The Festival of the Two Moons. It's tomorrow. People from across Enchantria will be there. The King's been planning to announce Livian's coronation. That means more eyes, more celebration... more distraction."

Her jaw tightened. "You want to use the crowd as cover?"

He nodded. "She'll blend into the chaos. Just enough time to slip away."

"But she's a dragon," Kaelira pressed. "She doesn't blend."

"Then I can't be with her," Varelor replied, voice low. "If I go back with Elduriel, he'll lock me inside the castle walls again. I'll never get the chance to leave. No more forests. No more adventures."

He looked away for a beat, his next words almost lost to the wind. "He'll make me into something I'm not."

A silence fell between them. Then, as if remembering a forgotten breath, Varelor reached into his satchel.

The scrolls.

He pulled them out one by one, parchment rustling like dry leaves.

"There has to be something here," he muttered, flipping through the faded ink.

Elduriel's voice rose behind him. "What is it you are seeking, Varelor?"

He didn't look up. "The wind emerald. Why is wind its name? What does it mean?" His fingers stopped on an old symbol that looked like a spiral with wings. "Do the other gems from the great kingdoms have their own powers, too? Earth, fire, water... time? There has to be a reason the deities scattered them."

His eyes lit up with a glint of hope. "If I can understand it, I can use it. Not just to heal the people... but to seek the justice you want."

"Varelor!" The call pierced the mist--Livian's voice.

Varelor froze. His grip on the scepter tightened instinctively. "He's here," he said under his breath, anxiety crawling up his spine.

"Return the gem!" Livian called again. "You know it's not safe out there. Where are you?"

Elduriel spread her wings. "Hold still," she said. With a beat of her wings and a plume of smoke, the air thickened, concealing them in swirling fog.

"What now..." Varelor murmured, barely audible. His thoughts tangled with fear.

"Var?!" A second voice--Alfira's, closer this time.

Kaelira stepped nearer, her hand brushing his arm. "You mustn't falter now," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "You promised, remember?"

"But... my family. They want this back. My brother--he's only trying to--"

Kaelira's expression hardened. "Do you truly believe that? That this is about safety? Or is it about control? You told me you wanted to do what is right. Was that just a moment of weakness?"

"I... I don't know anymore," he said, eyes flickering with doubt. "They raised me. I trust them."

"They raised you to be obedient," she said. "You think this is about loyalty? No, Varelor. This is about legacy. You stand at the edge of something far greater than yourself."

He looked toward the voices beyond the mist. "I must go. I need to see them, to know--"

Kaelira stepped in front of him. "Then go. Do what they taught you. Bend. Yield. Forget who you really are."

Varelor hesitated, then stepped past her into the fog, the scepter clutched against his chest.

Behind him, Kaelira did not follow. Her voice came sharp, enchained with bitter disappointment.

"You're no different from them. Another prince afraid of his own blood."

Kaelira's words struck him like the snap of a whip. Varelor halted mid-step, the fog curling around him. He turned--his eyes lit with fire, no longer the quiet prince in shadow.

"Do not call me that," he growled, stepping toward her. "You know nothing of what I've endured. If I am truly your king, then you will respect my choices, not question them."

Kaelira's composure cracked, her tears finally falling. "Then you should not have fed us false hope. You--"

"False hope?" he cut her off, voice raised. "You speak of hope when it was you who wove a reckless plan behind veils and riddles! Why did you not speak plainly to me? Why steal the gem? Why manipulate me instead of trusting me?"

Kaelira's eyes flared. "Because trusting you means watching you crawl back to a crown built on lies. Because you refuse to break free of him. Your brother--he lives in your father's grace, but that grace was built on your family's ashes!"

"He's innocent," Varelor said coldly, trembling with fury and pain. "You don't know him."

And before she could utter another word, he turned and bolted through the fog.

"Var--" Alfira's voice cut through the mist as she nearly collided with him. Her eyes widened at the sight of the gem clutched to his chest.

"Give it back," she said breathlessly. "Livian's losing his mind with worry. He's not angry because of this gem. He's angry because he's spent his whole life trying to make our father proud, and now you--"

"There you are."

The voice behind her silenced them both. Livian.

His jaw was clenched, his fists trembling at his sides. His eyes flicked to the gem, then back to Varelor.

"Is this true?" he asked. "You tried to take the scepter? You ran off with it?"

"Liv... listen, it's not what it seems," Varelor stepped back, his heart pounding.

"Don't lie to me!" Livian snapped, stepping forward. "I trusted you. Father trusted you. What do you think you're doing--joining with those outcasts? Defending that beast?"

"I was trying to--"

"Give. It. Back." Livian lunged, reaching for the scepter, but Varelor instinctively pulled away, staggering back.

"I'm warning you," Livian growled. "Enough games, Varelor. Hand it over, and we speak no more of this. Father will know what to do."

When Varelor hesitated, that was all it took.

Livian's fist collided with his jaw, a flash of pain tearing through his skull. He hit the ground hard.

"Livian!" Alfira screamed, rushing to Varelor.

"Stay out of this, Alfira," Livian said, his voice shaken, eyes wide as if surprised by his own violence. "He's lost his mind."

Varelor groaned, touching his lip--blood.

But something within him had snapped back into place. His eyes flicked to the scepter.

This wasn't just about loyalty or legacy anymore. This was about truth--and whether he had the strength to carry it.

"Livian!" Alfira cried, rushing between the brothers, her arms outstretched. "Stop this madness!"

"You want to keep that?" Livian roared, his voice thick with rage and disbelief. "You've no idea what foolishness you stand for! Do you know what you're risking?"

"Enough!" Alfira snapped, slapping him hard across the face.

The blow echoed through the quiet fog. Livian staggered a step, stunned. His chest heaved, and for a moment he looked ready to retaliate--but then he froze, hands shaking, eyes wide as if he finally saw himself.

"What... What am I doing?" he whispered, stepping back.

Varelor stood. "Liv... I think the gem must remain here."

Livian blinked. "What?"

"This scepter... it doesn't belong to Sepphora anymore. I met them--those who served the king whose name was erased from the stones of our halls. They are suffering. Forgotten. And yet they still believe. They need this, Liv. Not us."

"But... but the realm--" Livian stammered, his voice faltering. "The wind emerald is the pride of all elvendom. It's what binds the elven tribes together. If we lose it..."

"You won't lose it," Varelor said softly. "You'll be returning it to those it was taken from."

There was a long silence, only broken by the wind brushing through the fog.

Livian clenched his jaw. "No. No, I cannot accept this. We have no time for this idealism. The Festival of the Two Moons begins at dawn. Father will name me heir. I have responsibilities, Var. We have responsibilities."

Varelor looked at his brother with sorrow in his eyes. "And the Mhydrillians? Do they not fall under that same duty? Are they not our kin?"

"If they do not honor the crown--our crown--why should we honor them?" Livian snapped. "You know this, Varelor. I thought... I truly thought you were the wise one."

Varelor's breath caught in his throat. Those words struck harder than any fist.

He took a step back.

Another.

And then he faced his brother fully, something resolute settling in his chest.

"I cannot let you become a king like this, Livian," he said, voice calm, eyes fierce. "I will not let Everdaile fall under a rule of pride and blindness."

"What are you saying...?" Livian whispered, a tremble in his voice.

Varelor gave a sad smile. "Brother mine, farewell."

And with that, he turned--and ran.

"Var!" Livian shouted, lunging after him, but the thick fog swallowed Varelor like a spirit of the wind itself. Livian stumbled and stopped, coughing on smoke and grief.

Alfira approached slowly, her hand resting gently on Livian's back. "It's time to go."

Livian didn't respond at first. He stared into the mist, fists clenched, jaw tight. Finally, he stood tall and gathered his things.

"This will ruin my name," he said quietly. "But that does not matter. I will find him. I will bring him back. No matter what it costs me..."

He looked up, toward the faint glimmer of morning light.

"...He is my brother. And I will not lose him."