The main hall of the Healing House hummed with the focused activity of late evening as Elaine stepped inside. The familiar scent of drying herbs and simmering broths hung in the warm air, a comforting counterpoint to the political tensions she’d just left behind at the Royal Council. Here, purpose was tangible.

  Most volunteers, moving with practiced efficiency between pallets and remedy tables, looked up at her entrance. A subtle shift rippled through them: initial relief at her return, quickly overlaid with a newer, more careful reverence that had taken root since the events of the northern campaign had become whispered knowledge in the city.

  Marta, her expression one of warm welcome yet shaded with an observant curiosity, broke away from instructing a younger aide. "Elaine," she said, her practical tone a familiar anchor. "You're back sooner than we thought."

  Elaine scanned the hall, taking in its ordered business. "The Council's immediate matters are concluded."

  "We've managed well," Marta reported, falling into step beside her, ledger in hand. "Seventeen critical cases were attended by the other healers, thirty-eight more received herbal treatments. Four are waiting for your assessment – conditions beyond what our College colleagues felt comfortable addressing."

  Livia bustled from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron, her kind face etched with its usual concern for others' well-being. "Healer, you've missed the evening meal. There’s a good portion of stew kept warm, should you want it."

  A few other key volunteers approached – the two College healers, still dedicated despite their institution's official stance, and the young woman who capably managed the dormitory. They offered their brief updates, a new deference noticeable in their slightly more formal postures and the small, almost unconscious increase in the distance they maintained from Elaine.

  "Thank you all," Elaine acknowledged, her gaze already turning towards the treatment corridor. "I will attend to the remaining patients now."

  As she moved, a brief hush fell in her immediate path. Conversations paused, then resumed with a low, speculative intensity that was a recent addition to the House's usual sounds. This undercurrent of awe, bordering on fear, was different.

  Yet the work, Elaine noted with an internal stillness, was blessedly unchanged. Healing remained what it had always been for her: a focused application of skill to alleviate suffering. The rest of what she was, the immensity of what she could do, had no place here, in the quiet mending of the body.

  * * *

  She cycled through the patients waiting for her—a child with malformed legs who would need to learn to walk in the coming weeks, a woman who had gone blind due to a recent accident was able to see again only seconds after her treatment started. Conditions that would have been life sentences elsewhere had become routine matters here, each healing accomplished with the same efficiency as setting a minor bone or treating a common fever.

  The final patient was elven, another case of the Fading Sickness that had become increasingly common. The process still required more time and effort on her part but the result was the same: complete restoration where their own healers had found only inevitable decline.

  After the elven visitors departed, Elaine remained in the treatment chamber. Two more elven patients scheduled for tomorrow and the day after.

  Despite the whispers, what she had done, people who needed healing still came. As she knew they would.

  * * *

  Dawnlight streaked into the Healing House main hall. Early volunteers moved with quiet purpose, and the sounds of meal preparation came from the kitchen where Livia would be directing.

  Elaine was already in a treatment chamber with the first scheduled elven patient, another sufferer of the Fading Sickness. Her focus was intent as she worked, the familiar light of her healing flowing into the afflicted elf. Attendants watched with anxious hope. Slowly, vitality returned.

  The treatment ended after a long time. The elf, visibly improved, cried while offering his gratitude. Attendants, their relief clear, carefully helped him depart.

  Elaine turned as Marta entered with the day's schedule. "The second is expected before midday?"

  "Yes, Healer," Marta confirmed. "Arrangements are made."

  Elaine nodded briefly, then turned to other immediate tasks.

  Outside, the Healing House activity gradually increased. The quiet hum of early morning gave way to a fuller bustle as more patients and volunteers arrived, the great hall slowly filling as midday approached.

  * * *

  Midday brought the Healing House to its familiar peak of activity. The great hall was a hive of orderly movement, the air thick with the mingled scents of poultices, fear, and faintly, hope. Elaine was consulting with Marta over a particularly complex internal ailment when the purposeful stride of a newcomer cut through the general hum.

  Riona entered, her Councilor's robes doing little to conceal the uncharacteristic lightness in her step. She spotted Elaine and moved towards her quickly, a wide, relieved smile transforming her usually serious features. The lines of strain that had been etched around her eyes for weeks seemed to have softened.

  "He's back," Riona announced as she approached, her voice bright with a joy that was infectious.

  Elaine observed her friend, noting the profound relief that radiated from her. It was a stark contrast to the worried emissary who had sought her aid not long ago.

  "Davian," Riona clarified, stopping directly before Elaine, her smile unwavering. "Safe. His caravan arrived in the capital this morning."

  "Was his journey difficult?" Elaine asked, her thoughts turning to the ravaged northern roads. "The conditions there..."

  A shadow briefly crossed Riona's face, the buoyant happiness momentarily checked by a returning tension. "Delayed," she admitted. "Questioned extensively at the checkpoints near the border. He saw... the aftermath." The unspoken reference to the battlefield hung between them. "Unharmed, though. That's the main thing. Goods and men all accounted for."

  "That is fortunate," Elaine stated simply.

  Relief flooded back into Riona’s expression, washing away the momentary darkness. "Yes. Very." She paused, her tone shifting, becoming more personal, warmer. "He asked after you immediately, Elaine. He wishes to thank you properly for… well, for everything." A hopeful look entered her eyes. "Would you join us for dinner tonight? At my residence. It will be quiet, just the three of us."

  Elaine considered the invitation. A quiet dinner with Riona and the merchant whose life had been so directly intertwined with recent events. "Yes," she said after a moment. "Thank you, Riona."

  Riona’s smile became wholly genuine. "Good." She took a visible breath, the personal relief momentarily set aside as the mantle of the King's Councilor settled back upon her shoulders. Her tone shifted, becoming crisper, more official. "Now, the Council. The King accepted your report on the northern campaign. The official record will state your role clearly, precisely as we discussed. Vestria, as expected, is... silent. No diplomatic contact has been attempted from their side yet. They're likely still counting their dead."

  "A predictable silence," Elaine observed.

  "Indeed. But there are other factions within Aldoria whose views you should understand, now that the immediate crisis has passed."

  "The Temple?" Elaine prompted.

  Riona nodded. "Deeply divided. Archpriest Valerius sent word this morning. The Temple leadership remains deadlocked. Publicly, they're trying to frame the growing 'Mother' veneration as some sort of local manifestation of already established divine principles, rather than acknowledging it as anything new or… centered on an individual." Her lips thinned slightly. "Privately, they're caught. Many of their own clergy are interpreting your works differently – some see you as the fulfillment of ancient prophecies, while others fear it all as heretical deviation."

  "An attempt to reconcile the undeniable with the traditional," Elaine murmured.

  "Exactly," Riona confirmed. "And apparently, Priestess Anya is gaining considerable influence among those 'fulfillment' believers. It’s causing significant internal strife for the Temple hierarchy. They're terrified of losing control of the narrative, of their own flock."

  "And the College?"

  "Similarly fractured, though along different lines," Riona replied. "Archmaster Valerian continues his methodical, almost obsessive, study of your techniques. He still maintains they are fundamentally the same principles the College has always taught – just employed by you at an unprecedented scale and with unimaginable power." Riona’s expression hardened almost imperceptibly. "Healer Garrett, however, has grown more vocal with his… procedural concerns. He’s actually recalled three of the College healers who had been volunteering here regularly. Cited 'the need for professional distance from unregulated methods.'"

  Elaine absorbed this, her expression unchanging. "Thaddeus?"

  "Still navigating the fallout from that disastrous Varren investigation. He was cleared of negligence in the end, but the official inquiry criticized his 'lapses in judgment.' He seems content to let Valerian and Garrett argue over you while he focuses on rebuilding his own standing within the College and the Council." Riona gave a small, almost impatient sigh. "Politics."

  She glanced absently in the direction of the palace district. "I need to return. The Council reconvenes shortly to discuss our long-term strategy regarding Vestria, now that their immediate threat is… neutralized." She met Elaine’s eyes again, the earlier relief regarding Davian softening her official mien. "Dinner, then? Seventh bell?"

  "I will be there," Elaine confirmed.

  Riona gave a firm nod, a final look that mingled personal happiness with the weight of her official duties, then turned and departed, her stride once again that of a King's Councilor moving with purpose.

  Elaine watched her go for a moment, the sounds of the busy healing hall pressing in again. She processed the information Riona had brought – political machinations, theological debates, institutional anxieties. Then, she turned back towards the lines of waiting patients, her focus shifting, narrowing to the immediate, tangible needs before her.

  * * *

  Later that day, as the midday bustle began to wane, Elaine was in one of the Healing House’s quieter consultation rooms, reviewing patient notes. Marta ushered Priestess Anya inside, her expression grave. The priestess, usually a figure of calm scholarship, seemed burdened, her earnest face etched with a troubled intensity.

  Anya bowed deeply, more so than simple courtesy required. "Healer Elaine. Thank you for granting me this audience again. The situation within the Temple... it grows more precarious by the hour."

  Elaine gestured towards a chair, her own expression calm, inviting. "Priestess. Speak freely."

  Anya perched on the edge of the seat, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "The news from the northern campaign... it has fractured the Council of Elders completely. Few now openly doubt the reports of the Vestrian army's destruction. The scale of it is still debated, of course, twisted by rumor and fear, but the outcome itself is largely accepted."

  "And this changes their official position regarding my work?" Elaine asked.

  "It terrifies the traditionalist faction," Anya confirmed, her voice low. "They cannot comprehend such power residing outside the divine or demonic frameworks they recognize. Since they cannot bring themselves to accept the 'Mother' possibility – or rather, the possibility of you being that manifestation – they default to fear. Not necessarily fear of a direct attack from you; I believe even they understand that opposing you physically would be... futile." A shiver seemed to run through her at the thought. "Their fear is of what you represent."

  "An independent power?" Elaine offered, her tone neutral. "A challenge to their established authority?"

  "Exactly!" Anya leaned forward, her eyes alight with a mixture of desperation and fervor. "That, and the 'Mother' veneration that continues to spread among the populace, seemingly uncontrollably. They see it as mass delusion, a dangerous heresy that undermines millennia of established faith and the very social order they uphold. They feel they must act – not directly against you, perhaps, but against the worship itself."

  "How do they propose to do that?" Elaine’s voice remained level, betraying no reaction.

  "By isolating it. Condemning it publicly," Anya explained, the words tumbling out. "They are preparing to petition the King directly. They will argue that while your healing is undeniable and a blessing to Aldoria, the reverence that has grown around you is dangerous, unsanctioned, and potentially destabilizing to the realm. They will seek royal decrees forbidding the use of the 'Mother' title, demanding the removal of informal shrines like the one that has sprung up in your courtyard, perhaps even attempting to restrict access to the Healing House itself, all under the guise of 'preventing civil unrest' they claim is being caused by this unsanctioned religious fervor."

  "They seek to control the narrative and the access," Elaine observed, "if not the source of the healing itself."

  "Precisely," Anya affirmed, a frustrated sigh escaping her. "They believe if they can sever the direct connection between your undeniable actions and the people's spontaneous interpretation of them, they can contain what they see as 'damage' to their authority. They are gambling that you, focused as you are on healing, might tolerate restrictions on worship so long as the work of healing itself is allowed to continue."

  Elaine remained silent for a long moment, her gaze distant as she considered the implications.

  Anya watched her, her own distress palpable. "My own faction, those of us who see prophecy in your works, are horrified by this. They believe that condemning such widespread, heartfelt reverence would be akin to rejecting a divine gift, an act that could invite catastrophe upon us all. The schism within the Temple is widening with every passing day. I came to warn you of their strategy. And perhaps..." She hesitated, her gaze becoming imploring. "...to ask if there is any word, any gesture you might offer, that could guide the faithful without forcing you to claim a divinity you consistently deny? The traditionalists use your silence on these matters as indifference, or worse, as confirmation of something sinister."

  Elaine’s attention returned to the priestess, her expression composed but with a new, sharp focus. She might have glanced briefly towards the main hall, where the sounds of the Healing House continued, a reminder of the tangible good being done. "I understand the Temple's turmoil, Priestess. This reverence… it flourishes despite my corrections. Perhaps the time for simple denial has indeed passed. It must be faced, not suppressed."

  She leaned forward slightly, her voice clear and carrying an undeniable weight. "Let me be unequivocal, so there is no misunderstanding between us, or with any faction: I am a healer. I perform the work that is needed before me. Interpretations of that work, and any titles people choose to bestow, belong to those who use them, not to me."

  "However... the actions people attribute to this 'Mother' – the mending of the incurable, the protection from plague and devastation, the alleviation of profound suffering – these align directly with what we do here, what I do. If the faithful feel moved to express devotion through such a lens, perhaps it would be more fruitful for the Temple not to make futile attempts at suppression, but instead, to channel that devotion constructively."

  Her focus sharpened further, her words precise. "Tell those who see prophecy fulfilled, Priestess Anya, that the 'Mother' they seek is found not in silent shrines alone, nor in whispered prayers of petition, but in active service. In the tending to the recovering, as your own volunteers do within these walls. In the provision of food and comfort to the weak, as Livia and her helpers ensure daily. In the tangible support of those families afflicted by illness or loss. Let their reverence become contribution. This House always needs more hands to assist those recovering. Our kitchens always require more resources to feed the needy. The families of the afflicted always need more support."

  She paused, her gaze direct and unwavering. "If they wish to honor the spirit they perceive in my actions, let them participate in the work itself. That is the only 'sign,' the only 'gesture,' I endorse."

  A slow, knowing smile spread across Anya’s face, the intensity in her eyes softening into something like relieved understanding. "I will do as you ask, Mother."

  Elaine allowed the title to pass without correction this time, her expression calm. But Anya’s smile faded slightly as a new concern surfaced in her gaze.

  "And what of the traditionalists?" she asked, her tone becoming more sober. "Your words will offer clarity to those who seek genuine guidance, but the faction I warned you of… they are driven by fear, by a desperate need to maintain control. What message should I carry to them, or rather, what should we anticipate from their actions now?"

  "This House is not a stage for political theater," Elaine stated, her voice dropping slightly, taking on a chilling quietness. "I have little patience for those who would attempt to use it as such, to score points, to make an example, or to test my restraint." A very deliberate pause. "They will find I have none left to offer in such matters."

  She met Anya's gaze. "I will not allow interference with the work done here. Not from them. Not from anyone."

  Anya absorbed Elaine’s final, unequivocal statement. The conflict within her seemed to settle into a kind of resigned understanding of the lines now drawn. She rose, straightening to her full height. "Then the lines are indeed drawn. I will carry your message, Healer Elaine." She gave a final, deep bow. "And pray it is enough for some."

  Without another word, Priestess Anya departed, leaving Elaine alone in the quiet consultation room.

  * * *

  The seventh bell had just sounded across the darkening capital when Elaine arrived at Riona Blackwood’s residence. It was a well-kept house of sturdy stone, nestled on a quiet street not far from the palace district, befitting a King’s Councilor – respectable and comfortable, but without undue ostentation. A small, meticulously tended herb and flower garden was visible beside the entrance, softened by the twilight. No liveried servants stood guard, lending an air of trusted privacy to the evening.

  The door opened before Elaine could knock, revealing Riona herself. The usual disciplined composure of the Councilor was wonderfully, visibly frayed. A radiant beam lit her face, her eyes shining with an almost girlish excitement, and she seemed to fairly vibrate with suppressed joy. Just behind her in the warm glow of the entryway stood Davian, the merchant. Relief was deeply etched into his features, a profound happiness softening the lines of recent hardship that still shadowed his eyes – until his gaze settled on Riona, and then on Elaine, and the shadows receded.

  "Elaine!" Riona’s voice brimmed, nearly breathless. "Thank you for coming. Please, come in, come in!" She fussed slightly with the latch, an uncharacteristic fluster that spoke volumes, before ushering Elaine over the threshold.

  Davian stepped forward, offering a warm, steady smile and a respectful nod. "Elaine. Thank you for coming on such short notice," he said, his voice holding a deep timbre of gratitude. "There's... much to be grateful for this night, and much we wanted to share with you."

  Riona moved closer to Elaine then, her usual dignified poise softened by a barely contained, conspiratorial grin. She glanced quickly at Davian, who returned her smile with an encouraging warmth, then lowered her voice slightly, though the house was empty save for the three of them. "Elaine, I know I was a bit… hurried, with the invitation when I saw you at the House earlier." Her eyes sparkled. "But Davian only just returned this morning, safe and sound, and then – and this, this is why I had to see you immediately –"

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  With a small, proud flourish, Riona held up her left hand. A simple, unadorned band of warm gold gleamed on her finger.

  "He proposed!" she announced, her voice a joyous whisper that nonetheless filled the small space. "We wanted you to be the very first to celebrate with us."

  Davian’s smile broadened, directed at Elaine with open sincerity. "Absolutely," he affirmed, his voice resonating with deep feeling. "We're so glad you're here to share this with us, Elaine. It means a great deal."

  Elaine’s usually composed face softened. A genuine smile – wider and brighter than either Riona or Davian had ever witnessed upon her features – slowly illuminated her expression, reaching her eyes and making them gleam with an uncharacteristic, gentle warmth. The transformation, though subtle by most standards, was profound for her. When she spoke, her voice, typically so level and measured, carried a lighter, almost melodic tone.

  "Riona. Davian." The smile deepened slightly as she took in their intertwined happiness. "That is… truly wonderful news."

  There was a fractional pause, a flicker in Elaine's eyes as if she was considering something for a microsecond. Then, with a sincerity that radiated from her but a movement that was perhaps a shade more deliberate than purely spontaneous, she stepped forward. She extended her arms and briefly, gently, embraced Riona. The gesture, for all it might have lacked the unthinking ease of long habit, was undeniably warm and heartfelt.

  Riona gasped softly, a flicker of stunned surprise quickly melting into overwhelming joy. Emotion flooded her face as her own arms instinctively went around Elaine, returning the hug with a sudden, heartfelt tightness. A watery chuckle, a sound of pure, disbelieving happiness, escaped her.

  Stepping back after a moment, the warm smile still gracing her features, Elaine met Riona’s tear-bright eyes, then Davian’s frankly astonished ones. "Yes," she said, her voice soft but certain. "I am very pleased for you both. Very pleased indeed."

  The significance of the gesture, the unprecedented warmth from Elaine, hung in the air, a palpable thing. Riona, still beaming, might have quickly and discreetly dabbed at the corner of an eye, her practical nature reasserting itself, though now beautifully softened by her radiant joy.

  The dining area of Riona's home, when she gestured them towards it, proved to be as tastefully unpretentious as its exterior – comfortable and well-kept, with good quality wooden furniture, a few well-chosen tapestries depicting pastoral Aldorian scenes, and a neatly displayed collection of regional maps on one wall. It was a warm, inviting space, and the table was already neatly set for three, speaking of Riona's hopeful anticipation.

  "Well!" Riona said, her voice still a little thick with emotion, but her smile brilliant as she gestured them further in. "Come through, both of you. Let’s get you seated. I’ve made a hearty beef and root vegetable stew – it’s been simmering all afternoon, and the aroma has been making me positively ravenous."

  She led them towards the table, the promise of shared warmth and sustenance a welcome grounding after the initial wave of joyous revelation.

  Davian followed Riona towards the table, a deep contentment settled on his features now that the initial joyous announcement had been made. He paused by a small, sturdy sideboard near the dining area. "And to go with that, my love," he said, directing a warm smile at Riona before his gaze flickered briefly to Elaine, "I actually managed to salvage a bottle of Northern Gold mead from the caravan – the good stuff from the Stonehill apiaries. After what the lads and I went through to protect the cargo before the real trouble started, I think tonight definitely calls for opening it."

  From the sideboard, he produced a dark green bottle, its wax seal reassuringly intact. He busied himself for a moment with unsealing and uncorking it, the small, domestic action of a host a stark contrast to the implied danger in his words about protecting his goods. Riona, anticipating the drink, retrieved three simple, sturdy earthenware goblets, setting them on the table.

  They settled around the table as Davian carefully poured the mead – a rich, amber liquid that caught the lamplight – into each goblet. Riona, meanwhile, ladled the steaming beef and root vegetable stew into deep bowls, the comforting aroma filling the air.

  Once everyone was served, Riona raised her goblet. "To safe returns," she said, her eyes meeting Davian's, brimming with love. Her gaze then shifted to include Elaine, a genuine warmth in her expression. "And to cherished friends, and to new beginnings."

  They all took a sip. The mead was rich and sweet on the tongue, and the stew, when they began to eat, was fragrant and deeply warming. Elaine watched Riona and Davian, a faint, calm smile on her lips as she observed their shared relief, the easy affection in their glances. They seemed to savor the simple act of being together, safe, after a period of such profound uncertainty.

  Davian, after taking a satisfying sip of his mead, let out a contented sigh. "Ah, that Stonehill Gold. Never disappoints. Worth every bit of the trouble to get it here." He glanced at Riona with a warm, reminiscent smile. "Remember that time we shared a skin of it on the King's Road, when your guard patrol was caught in that early blizzard?"

  Riona laughed softly, a fond memory lighting her eyes. "I remember nearly freezing my fingers off! That mead was the only thing that kept us going until the storm broke. You always did have a knack for finding the best provisions, even then."

  Davian nodded, clearly pleased. "A merchant learns a few things," he said. "The journey to get their wares to market is… challenging, even in peaceful times." He paused then, his expression turning more sober, the earlier contentment tinged with graver recollection. "This trip north, even before the invasion... it was different. More difficult than I’ve seen the roads in years."

  Riona’s own expression reflected his shift in mood. She reached out, placing her hand briefly over his where it rested on the table. "You mentioned the border checkpoints were particularly troublesome? More than just the usual delays? You were near the Vestrian demarcation when things escalated?"

  Davian nodded slowly, his gaze becoming a little distant as he recalled the pre-invasion tension. "Far more," he confirmed. "We were concluding business in the northernmost Aldorian towns, very close to the border. The Vestrian military presence was... palpable. Double the guards at every crossing point we could see. Their patrols were aggressive, not just routine." He continued, his voice steady but imbued with the seriousness of the memory, "They weren't just checking manifests for tariff evasion anymore; they were asking pointed questions about movements within Aldoria, about grain stores, local militias. It felt like they were gathering intelligence, building a complete picture. Very coordinated. We knew something was brewing, but the sheer scale of it..." He shook his head, the image still vivid in his mind. "We decided to depart south with all haste. Getting back across into more stable Aldorian territory involved some... tense moments at the checkpoints."

  Elaine, who had been listening intently to their exchange, her earlier warmth still subtly present in her composed expression, remarked, "The signs of impending large-scale action were there, then. Not just opportunistic posturing."

  "Exactly," Davian affirmed, looking at Elaine with a nod of agreement. "We grumbled about Baron Volkov’s usual arrogance, but this felt different, heavier. We just wanted to get our goods and men clear. Little did we suspect what was truly massing just beyond the ridgelines, or what we would find further south on our journey home."

  The conversation about the troubled northern roads and Baron Volkov’s arrogance died away, leaving a more somber mood hanging over the table. Davian set down his goblet with a deliberate thud, the sound soft but carrying a note of finality in the quiet room. He turned his full attention to Elaine, and the change in his expression was profound: the lingering contentment was overshadowed now by a mixture of awe, a horror that still seemed fresh and raw, and an immense, burgeoning gratitude.

  "Elaine..." he began, his voice slightly lower than before. He took a deep breath, clearly gathering his thoughts, preparing to speak of things not easily voiced.

  "When we finally got clear of the border chaos and were making our way south... we started hearing whispers. Soldiers, an army destroyed... The stories were wild, unbelievable. Then... then we came upon it." His voice dropped, becoming huskier, the memory almost a physical presence in the room.

  "The King's Northern Road... it just... opened up onto this valley. And the valley..." He shook his head slowly, as if still struggling to find words adequate for the sight. "It was... a wasteland of the dead. Twenty thousand men..." His voice cracked slightly, and he cleared his throat before continuing, the number itself a staggering weight. "An entire army. Gone. The scale of it was... staggering. But it was the way of it, Elaine."

  He looked directly at Elaine, his eyes wide with the remembered image, seeking some understanding, some context for the incomprehensible. "The outer edges... it looked like something had just... punched through their defenses. Cleanly. But deeper in... Gods." The word was a pained exhalation. "It was a maelstrom. Bodies piled so thickly in places, especially towards what must have been their central camp, it was as if a monstrous tide had swept them together and then... receded, leaving only death. No great struggle between two armies, just... annihilation."

  Riona reached out then, her fingers gently closing over Davian’s hand where it lay on the table. Her expression was a complex mirror of his own pain, a shared grief for the horror he had witnessed, yet beneath it, perhaps, lay a touch of her own hidden tension, the knowledge of her own unrevealed role in what he described.

  Davian’s gaze, however, did not leave Elaine. "My men... hardened caravan guards, men who’ve seen their share of skirmishes... they were struck dumb. Some were sick. We understood then that the threat... the invasion... was over. Utterly." His voice was thick with the memory of that dawning, terrible realization. "My entire caravan, my men... I would have been directly in their path within another day, maybe two. We would have been overrun. The capital... Riona..." He glanced at his betrothed, then swiftly back to Elaine, the enormity of what had been averted clear in his eyes. "Everything we know..." He shook his head again, unable to articulate the devastation of that alternative reality. He took another steadying breath.

  "Riona's scouts found us, and she... she told me it was you, Elaine. That you were the one who had... stopped them. Intervened." He chose his words with care, still visibly grappling with the magnitude of it all. "So, from the deepest part of me, and on behalf of every soul in my caravan, every soul in this city you saved... thank you. You didn't just save our lives. You saved our world."

  He paused, the profound weight of his gratitude expressed and hanging in the air between them. Then, a deep frown of utter incomprehension creased his brow. He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a raw, urgent whisper, a desperate need to understand warring with his awe.

  "But I have to ask... How, Elaine? How can one person...? How is such a thing even possible?"

  Elaine met his searching gaze, her own expression calm, unchanging. "It's possible, Davian, when that one person is... me. My strength isn't like others'."

  Davian nodded slowly, absorbing this simple, yet colossal, statement. He accepted her uniqueness, but the core of his bewilderment remained. "Yes, clearly," he conceded, his voice still hushed. "But how, Elaine? What allows one person to become so... so fundamentally different in their strength?"

  Elaine’s gaze seemed to drift for a moment, looking past Davian, past the walls of the room, as if reflecting on something distant and vast – an echoing cycle of time unseen by either of her companions. When she spoke, her voice was quiet, almost reflective, carrying the faintest shadow of that immense duration. "Imagine, Davian, an existence where time itself becomes an endless cycle, feeling like an eternity, and every day is devoted to one thing: to be more than you were the day before." She focused on him again, her expression settling back into a calm neutrality, the distant look receding from her eyes. "That has been my life."

  A profound silence fell over the table, thick and heavy, pressing down on them. Davian stared at Elaine, his face growing paler, his eyes wide with a mixture of awe and something akin to existential shock. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came; he seemed utterly overwhelmed by the implication of an ‘eternity’ devoted to such a relentless pursuit. The air itself felt still, charged with the unsaid.

  Riona watched Davian for a beat, her own expression a carefully constructed mask of composure, though her eyes, when they turned to Elaine, betrayed a deep, somber understanding. Unspoken questions, of deeply held suspicions about Elaine's true nature, seemed to coalesce in this intense moment. Her voice, when she finally broke the silence, was barely above a whisper, laden with a dawning, terrible comprehension and perhaps a touch of fear for the answer she instinctively knew would be monumental.

  "...An eternity..." Riona breathed, and she swallowed, the small sound sharp and audible in the stillness of the room. "Just... how long, Elaine? How long was this... 'life'?"

  Elaine met Riona’s gaze directly. For a moment, her usual calm neutrality seemed to waver, a profound stillness settling over her features that was different from her customary composure. When she answered, her voice was low, devoid of any inflection, a flat, stark statement of unimaginable fact.

  "One thousand years, Riona."

  The number hung in the air. A small, choked sound escaped Davian’s lips, quickly suppressed, but his face, already pale, seemed to drain of all remaining color. Riona’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly.

  "One thousand years of battle," Elaine continued, her gaze had gone distant.

  "One thousand years of survival." A flicker—pain, loss, something unspoken—passed across her face.

  "One thousand years... alone."

  The final word was delivered with a profound, almost hollow quietness that resonated more deeply than any shout. It was not a plea for pity, held no trace of self-indulgence, but was simply a stark, unadorned truth.

  The room held still. Davian gripped the table, breath shallow, eyes fixed on Elaine. Not in fear but disbelief. He opened his mouth, closed it. Then, a dry sound. Words came at last, unsteady and raw, grasping for something too vast to name.

  "A thousand... years..." Davian’s voice was a hoarse whisper. He shook his head slightly, a minute gesture of a man trying to clear a vision too vast, too terrible to absorb. He swallowed hard, his eyes still fixed on Elaine, struggling to reconcile the woman sitting across the table with the immensity of that statement.

  "Then... then why?" The question burst from him, less an accusation than a profound, bewildered query. His gaze darted to Riona, a flicker of desperate appeal, then back to Elaine, as if seeking an anchor in a world that had just been irrevocably turned upside down. "After all that... after an existence like that... why here? Why... why Aldoria? Why bother with us at all? Why did you... why did you save us? Stop the army?"

  Elaine regarded Davian, his fractured questions echoing the profound shock that still held him captive. Her gaze softened almost imperceptibly, a flicker of distant memory touching her eyes as her fingers unconsciously found and brushed against the smooth, familiar stone of the pendant at her throat – Sarah’s pendant.

  "Pure chance, Davian," she began, her voice quiet but steady, "that my path began where it did within Aldoria's borders."

  A brief, reflective pause settled between them before she continued. "My... life in this world started in Riverside, a small village." The name was said with a quiet weight; for an instant, the memory of Sarah might have surfaced, an echo of a pain long carried. "It was there, after that long period of isolation, that I first began to... connect again. To find a purpose in healing others." She glanced down at the pendant for a fraction of a second, a private acknowledgment, before her gaze returned to Davian, her expression composed once more but with an underlying current of something deeper.

  "Coming to the capital city was a later step," Elaine explained. "After I met Riona, after I was forced out of Riverside. But, it also offered a broader scope for healing, a way to reach more who were in need throughout the kingdom. Aldoria, as a realm, has so far provided the stability needed for what I currently choose to do."

  Davian was still, his expression one of stunned comprehension as he absorbed this first part. Elaine continued, her voice calm as she addressed the next layer of his bewilderment.

  "When I arrived, I sought purpose beyond mere existence. Healing provides that purpose. 'You' – the people here, those who seek healing – have become part of that purpose. Individual lives have... regained significance for me."

  The quiet in the room was profound. Elaine then turned to the final, most pressing part of his desperate query. Her gaze shifted for a moment to Riona, a deep, unreadable look passing between them, before she turned back to Davian. Her voice became very quiet, almost a whisper, yet every word was imbued with a crystal clarity.

  "As for the army, Davian... Riona came to me. She was afraid – for you, for the capital, for what would be lost. She asked for my help."

  A profound pause descended, during which Elaine's expression seemed uncharacteristically open, vulnerable in its directness.

  "I acted because she asked me to."

  The statement hung in the room, immense and absolute. Davian stared, his mind clearly struggling to reconcile the cataclysmic event he had witnessed with such a singular, intensely personal reason. He looked from Elaine’s open face to Riona, who looked down, her own features a mask of complex emotions. After a long, stretched moment of stunned silence, Davian finally spoke.

  His voice was hoarse, barely audible, his eyes filled with a profound, searching bewilderment. "Just... because she asked?" He shook his head slightly, a minute, disbelieving gesture. "An entire army... thousands of lives... solely because Riona... pleaded for your help?" He wasn't accusatory; he was utterly, devastatingly floored.

  Elaine’s expression softened slightly at his raw incomprehension. She gave a slow, deliberate nod. "Her fear was genuine," she affirmed quietly. "The threat to what she valued was immediate. And her request of me was clear." She paused for a moment, then added, as if offering a secondary layer of context, "It is also true that their army presented an escalating problem, one that would have eventually threatened the stability I require for my work here. Her plea merely... accelerated what might have become an inevitable intervention on my part, and made the response absolute, without delay."

  A heavy silence once more filled the room. Davian slowly turned his stunned, pale face from Elaine to Riona. His eyes were wide, searching, as he tried to comprehend his betrothed’s role in this monumental intervention. The unspoken question – "You asked her?" – hung palpably in the air between them.

  Riona met Davian's gaze directly, her own eyes unwavering, holding a fierce, almost startlingly protective light. Her posture was one of resolute, unbending strength. Her voice, when she spoke, was low, firm, and utterly without apology.

  "Yes, Davian. I asked her."

  A brief pause followed, letting the stark confirmation sink into the stunned quiet, then she continued with that same chilling clarity.

  "I knew she was the only one capable of helping. Of helping us." Her gaze flickered to him, intense and unwavering. "Of saving you. Of saving this capital."

  Another deliberate pause, her chin lifting a fraction, her conviction absolute and unshakeable.

  "I knew exactly what I asked of her. And faced with the same choice again... I would ask her again."

  The silence that followed Riona’s stark affirmation was thick with unspoken emotions. Davian looked from Riona's resolute face to Elaine's calm, ancient one, his own expression a landscape of contending feelings. He took a very deep, steadying breath, like a man surfacing from a great and turbulent depth, the initial shock slowly giving way to a profound gravity. The lines of his face seemed etched with the weight of all he had heard. He ran a hand over his jaw, a thoughtful, grounding gesture.

  "Thank you," Davian said finally, his voice quiet but steady now, the pragmatist in him having asserted some measure of control over the initial overwhelm. He looked first at Elaine, acknowledging her, then his gaze settled fully on Riona. The simple words carried a depth of meaning, encompassing their honesty, the terrifying revelations, and the devastating actions taken. "Both of you. For telling me... everything. For trusting me with such... truths."

  He paused, choosing his next words with visible care. "This is..." he began, gesturing vaguely with one hand, indicating the sheer, almost unthinkable enormity of the information he had just received, "...a great deal to take in. More than I could have ever imagined. I will need time to... fully process it all. To reconcile it with the world I thought I knew."

  Then, he turned fully to Riona, his eyes, though still shadowed with the immensity of what he'd learned, holding a deep, reassuring tenderness. He reached for her hand across the table, his grip firm and loving. "But Riona..." His voice softened, imbued with an understanding that was a balm after the storm of revelations. "I understand why you did what you did. I understand the choice you made, the fear you faced for us. And I..." He searched for the right words for a moment, then found them with a quiet, unshakable conviction. "...I accept it. You acted to save us, to save everything we hold dear. And you succeeded."

  He gave her hand a gentle, affirming squeeze. There was no judgment in his eyes, only a profound, if still somewhat dazed, acceptance and a love that had weathered this astonishing storm. "We can talk more later... upstairs," he murmured, the words spoken softly, meant just for her, a promise of continued intimacy and further discussion in the privacy of their shared space, implicitly after Elaine had gone and they both had more time. "For now... thank you for ensuring there is a later for us."

  Davian’s words, and the deep feeling behind them, hung in the air. His hand remained holding Riona’s. She looked at him, and an immense wave of relief and love washed over her face, softening its resolute lines. She returned his squeeze gratefully, a watery, tremulous smile touching her lips. The intense atmosphere in the room began to ease, the sharp edges of shock and awe giving way to a tired but profound understanding, though the weight of everything said still remained, a new foundation for their shared world.

  Elaine observed them, her expression calm, with that faint, almost imperceptible smile that indicated her own form of satisfaction or quiet contentment at the understanding they had reached. She had shared more of herself this evening, revealed more of her immense past, than ever before, and it had been received, processed, and in its own way, accepted.

  Riona eventually turned to Elaine, her voice still a little thick with emotion, but lighter now, carrying a new resonance. "Elaine... thank you. For everything. For... being willing to share so much with us tonight. And for... well, for being our friend." The word "friend," spoken now, carried a depth of meaning, a weight of shared experience, that it had never possessed before between them.

  Elaine’s earlier, uncharacteristic warmth seemed to fully resurface, settling into a genuine, present pleasure. She looked at them both, a thoughtful consideration briefly crossing her features before she spoke. "This was meant to be a celebration of your commitment to each other." A slight, almost rueful smile touched her lips. "My apologies if my own rather... extensive past ended up taking center stage more than intended. Your news, your happiness, is what truly matters tonight." Her smile softening further, "But I am pleased we could all find understanding."

  Riona reached out, briefly touching Elaine's arm in a gesture of affection and gratitude that felt entirely natural now. Her eyes shone. "Elaine, not at all. Please don't think that for a moment." She glanced at Davian, who offered a quiet nod of agreement from across the table. "What you shared... it was necessary. For us to truly understand. And it doesn't diminish our joy in the slightest – if anything," Riona mused, a strange new sense of security in her voice, "knowing what you protect, what you stand for, makes our future feel... even more secure, in a strange way."

  Davian nodded firmly, his earlier shock now fully settled into a profound, respectful awe. "Indeed, Elaine," he added, his voice sincere, though still carrying the weight of the evening's revelations. "Your honesty was a gift, however... staggering." A small, rueful smile, mirroring Elaine's earlier one, touched his lips. "And our happiness is very real, thank you. We wouldn't have this moment, this future, without you."

  A comfortable, warm silence settled over the three of them then. They shared a final sip of the Northern Gold mead, the rich sweetness a counterpoint to the evening's intensity. The heaviest emotional lifting was done. The atmosphere was one of deep, shared intimacy and a hard-won understanding.

  Elaine’s gaze took in both of them, a rare, almost gentle quality to it. The startling warmth she had shown upon hearing their news, the unexpected hug, now felt less an aberration and more like a settled part of her demeanor, at least for this evening, with these two people. "The evening has been... valuable for me as well," she said, a subtle nod accompanying her words, acknowledging their acceptance and the significance of her own step in sharing so much. "But it grows late. I should allow you both some peace to... reflect, and to celebrate quietly." She made a subtle motion, a shift in her posture indicating her intention to rise.

  Riona nodded, understanding immediately, a soft, grateful smile on her face. "Of course. Thank you again, Elaine, for everything. And for being here tonight."

  Davian stood as Elaine did, his movements respectful. He offered a deeply appreciative nod. "Elaine. My gratitude is beyond words. For everything."

  Elaine simply nodded in acknowledgment to Davian, then turned her gaze to Riona. "Riona. Davian." A slight pause, a final, calm, assessing look that now held an undeniable, clear warmth. "May your life together bring you all the happiness you deserve."

  With that, she turned and departed from the dining area, moving with her usual quiet grace. Riona and Davian rose to escort her to the door of the manor.

  Once Elaine had stepped out into the cool night air and her footsteps had faded on the quiet street, Riona and Davian stood at the threshold for a moment, the silence of the world outside a stark contrast to the storm of emotions and monumental revelations that had just occurred within their home. Davian then gently pulled Riona into a deep, heartfelt embrace, holding her close, his arms a haven. The "upstairs" conversation he had promised was now imminent, built on an incredible foundation of shared truth and a future irrevocably altered by the ancient, powerful friend who had just left their door.

  "A thousand years..." Davian whispered into Riona's hair, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and a profound, encompassing love. "And she did all that... because you asked."

  Riona held him tighter, her own voice a soft echo against his chest. "And to keep you safe, my love. To keep us all safe."