Night fell gently over the elven capital, moonlight filtering through layers of ancient leaves like pale silver breath.
Prince Aetherion moved.
He advanced through the forest with his personal guard, fifteen elite elves clad in darkened armor etched with concealnt runes. No torches burned. No words were spoken. Their steps were light, practiced, almost reverent as they lted into the shadows.
Ahead of them rose the Regent's residence, grown from the Mother Tree's oldest roots—wide, solemn, and heavy with peaceful authority.
As they drew closer, Aetherion raised a fist.
The guards protecting the residence lay scattered across the outer platforms.
So were slumped against the living walls, eyes wide and glassy. Others lay sprawled across the glowing roots, armor cracked, weapons knocked aside. There was no blood—only faint scorch marks, broken ribs, and the unmistakable stillness of those who had been struck down without rcy.
Alive.
But barely.
Aetherion's lips curled upward.
"It seems," he whispered, "the intruder has already made his move."
His guards nodded grimly.
They advanced.
Doors were eased open inch by inch. Curtains of glowing leaves were parted without sound. Inside, the residence was eerily quiet—too quiet. The only sounds were their own breaths and the faint pulse of the tree itself.
They moved through hallways grown like arteries, past chambers of sleeping light and suspended platforms, every step asured, every corner cleared.
Finally, they reached the Regent's private chamber.
Aetherion pushed the door open.
Nothing.
The room was empty.
The bed untouched. The air still. No scent of blood. No sign of struggle.
Aetherion frowned.
A faint, crawling sensation crept up his spine.
Sothing was wrong.
Before he could speak—
Light exploded.
The chamber flared to life as concealed luminescent veins ignited all at once. From the walls, the ceiling, even the floor itself, ard guards erged, stepping out of living panels, weapons already raised.
Spears. Bows. Blades humming with restrained elental power.
All pointed at Aetherion and his n.
"—!"
His guards reacted instantly, but they were already surrounded.
Aetherion's eyes widened. "What is the aning of this?" he demanded.
No one answered.
Then the guards parted.
From between them walked Prince Silmarien, his small fra straight, his glasses gleaming softly in the light. Beside him strode the Regent, expression grave and unreadable. Several elders followed close behind.
Aetherion stared. "Regent…? Silmarien? What is this farce?"
Silmarien stepped forward and inclined his head respectfully toward the Regent.
"As I told you, Regent," he said calmly, his voice steady, "Prince Aetherion has long resented your rule—your adherence to the forr king's will. Tonight, he attempted to assassinate you."
"What?" Aetherion barked, incredulous. "That's a lie!"
He turned sharply toward Silmarien. "You treacherous little—how dare you accuse falsely? Was it not you who conspired with the intruder to kill the Regent tonight?"
Silmarien blinked.
Then he tilted his head, puzzled.
"Intruder?" he asked softly. "What intruder?"
Before Aetherion could respond, the guards at the far end of the chamber dragged soone forward.
The figure was barely recognizable.
Beaten. Bruised. Limbs trembling. Gills torn and bleeding.
A rman.
He collapsed to his knees, coughing weakly, blood pooling beneath him.
What Aetherion did not know was that this rman was conjured by Chiron's mastery over blood.
Yes. It was a clone.
Aetherion's confusion deepened, until the guards stepped aside once more.
A man with unmistakable presence entered the room.
Chiron.
He walked in calmly, hands relaxed at his sides, expression neutral, almost bored. His eyes flicked briefly toward Aetherion—just long enough to acknowledge him—before returning to the Regent.
Silmarien gestured politely toward Chiron.
"This is Chiron," he said. "A bounty hunter from beyond the Veil. He ca seeking a criminal hiding among us. It gad not been easy, but he was contracted by one of the guardians of the seal to the outside world."
And then the guardian. That sa old bartender elf that Chiron killed and made his blood clone his servants.
He motioned to the broken rman. "This one is the intruder."
While humans were not particularly fond off in this place, the fact that Chiron had been introduced by Silmarien and a guardian of their city automatically bought him immunity.
Also, it had helped the elven people solve a particularly annoying case that had bothered their peaceful ho for a long ti.
Also, it allowed Chiron to finally co into light in this elven world of pride.
The rman shuddered.
"According to his confession," Silmarien continued, "he sought to slaughter elves indiscriminately. As you know, elves are not very liked in the outside world. And yes. It was that which helped .
The wisdom of the old king guided to uncover this truth… and to Chiron."
Silmarien turned slightly, voice lowering. "In fact, during my last battle with this criminal, it was Chiron who intervened—and saved my life."
The room fell silent. Even the elders murmured amongst each other.
With the story Silmarien told them the last ti about the way he managed to survive from the attacker, the story actually checked out.
Also, the fact that the rman had attacked elves in both water and land checked out well.
Aetherion stared.
At Silmarien. And then at the Regent.
And lastly, at Chiron.
And for the first ti that night—
Aetherion realized he had already lost.
This had been a trap from the very beginning.
He looked into his brothers eyes and beyond all that facade he put up, he could see a man that was very dangerous.
A man with a level of danger he never thought was possible.
How was it that in all their years together, he had never seen this side of his brother?
How was it that such a green snake had hidden so perfectly under the green grass?
Of course, it was not that it was not there, but that he had not looked at the ground well enough.
He had thought himself too big and superior to his brother, that he did not see him as a threat.
A mistake he would regret forever.
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