Silverwood Realm, The Stillness.
In the eastern quarter of the stronghold, inside the newly raised wooden walls, a small grove of trees had been left to flourish. Tucked within the canopy, a series of treehouses had been constructed, built by Aerin and a small team of Wood Elves as a sanctuary for their own.
Now, Aerin stood before the hundred or so survivors they had just brought back to camp. Xylia and Angel flanked her, their expressions a mixture of relief and exhaustion.
"Everyone," Aerin began, her voice carrying through the quiet grove. She had meant to offer a simple greeting, but looking into their haunted eyes, she changed course. "You're safe now."
Safe.
The word hung in the air, a promise more precious than gold to this ragged band of refugees. If this place could truly offer them that, they would cherish it with everything they had left.
