[: 3rd POV :]
At some point, Caelira's hands trembled slightly as she stood near the ornate window overlooking the sprawling gardens of the Elven palace.
The sky was painted with hues of deep purple and gold, but the beauty of the moment was lost on her.
Her eyes, usually so calm and resolute, flickered with a quiet torment.
Every passing second felt heavier, like a weight pressing down on her chest.
Aeriwen stepped closer, her voice gentle yet firm, a balm against the growing storm in her mother's heart.
"Don't worry, Mother," she said softly, placing a reassuring hand on Caelira's arm.
"We will find him."
Caelira closed her eyes, drawing in a slow breath, the faint scent of jasmine from the garden reaching her senses.
She felt the truth in her daughter's words, but the relentless ache of uncertainty gnawed at her soul.
"You don't understand, Aeriwen," she murmured, her voice trembling.
