The elves stepped back, albeit reluctantly, when their chief made the decision.
Their murmurs filled the air like buzzing flies, but they dared not go against the elder's authority.
As the path cleared, Kyle gave Silvy a small nod and began to follow the ancient elf deeper into the village.
Instantly, Kyle felt eyes on him.
Dozens of glares, cold and suspicious, tracked his every step.
They bore into his back, his side, his face. No one hid their hostility.
To them, he was an intruder—a stranger who dared walk the sacred soil while they suffered, cursed and drained of the very mana they once wielded so proudly.
But Kyle? He welcomed their hate.
He walked with his usual calm poise, a soft smile curling at his lips as he returned their stares. Every look of contempt only amused him.
They had no idea who they were dealing with. And that ignorance was… useful.
Silvy tried to follow, but two younger elves stepped into her path, hands raised to stop her.
