Lindarion suppressed the twitch of a smile. 'Not yet. Watch and listen.'
"I did not come here to be worshipped," Lindarion said aloud. His voice was iron. "Nor to become the Tree's puppet. My purpose has not changed. Maeven remains, and behind him, Dythrael. My father's fate is still uncertain. That is the path before me."
Sylwen's eyes softened at the mention of Eldrin, though her lips pressed thin. "You truly do not know where he is?"
"If I did," Lindarion said, "I would not waste breath in this chamber. He fought Dythrael once. Now whispers reach me of a shadow spreading, of chains tightening around the free peoples. If Eldrin lives, he is bound to that struggle. And if he has fallen…" His jaw clenched. "…then I will finish what he began."
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the faint hum of insects in the walls.
