Back in the heart of the elven village, Leyla stood at the edge of the central platform, gazing out into the wild mossy forest beyond the shield of illusion. The glowing vines that wrapped around the trees pulsed gently like a heartbeat, a reminder of the ancient life that thrummed beneath their feet. But Leyla wasn't admiring the view—she was anxious.
Her fingers tapped lightly on the hilt of her blade, a habit she picked up centuries ago when something felt… off.
"I shouldn't have let him leave so easily," she muttered to herself, pacing in soft, deliberate steps across the roots of an old guardian tree. "What if he changes his mind? What if his friends convince him not to help us?"
It wasn't that she didn't trust them—not entirely. Her father, Malik, might call her foolish or too young to understand the cruelty of the world, but Leyla saw something different. Something in Alex's eyes. The Druid's tongue might be sharp, his attitude borderline maddening, but his intentions were clear. Pure, even.
He had offered his help when he could have simply walked away. He bargained, yes, but not for wealth or dominance—he bargained for knowledge and strength. A fair trade, Leyla thought, especially when dealing with someone who could've burned the village down with a flick of his wrist.
Still… her father's warnings echoed in her mind like a cold wind whispering through old branches.
"Never trust a human with too much power. Sooner or later, they always want more."
Of course, her father had lived through the Old World, through the Calamity—the war that shattered the skies and tore open the very fabric of reality. He had seen it firsthand when humanity played god, evolved far beyond their design, and brought ruin to the world. He watched cities crumble, mountains fall, and oceans boil. He saw gods born from mortal arrogance.
To Malik, the rebirth of awakened humans—with their sentients and their strange, sudden gifts—was not a miracle.
It was a warning.
"They're doing it again," he had said just last moon. "The world gave them a second chance, and they're sprinting back toward destruction."
Leyla understood his fear. She even respected it. But she didn't share it.
Not completely.
For all their flaws, humans were capable of kindness, sacrifice, beauty. Compared to the other races—the cold, analytical Syreans of the highlands, or the proud, cruel Reznari from the depths—humans were... emotional. Reckless. Passionate. And for Leyla, that meant they were also hopeful.
Leyla sighed and placed a hand on the bark of the elder tree, letting its warmth soothe her thoughts. She was over two hundred years old—an adult by elven standards—but sometimes she still felt like a child playing in a forest too large for her feet. She had been born inside the Dome, after the great sealing, and unlike the elders, she had never known a world outside this cage.
But now the cage was cracking.
The ancient beasts were stirring. Forbidden magics were rising from their graves. And three strangers—three awakened humans with fire in their veins and defiance in their eyes—had walked into her forest as if fate itself had carried them there.
She didn't believe in coincidence.
"Where is he?" a strong, commanding voice suddenly sliced through Leyla's thoughts like a blade through mist.
She turned swiftly, caught off guard, to find her father standing at the arched entrance of their family hall. His silver hair caught the lamplight, making him look more like a storm than a man. Malik's sharp green eyes pierced through the dim, burning with concern—and irritation.
"Father," she said, stepping forward. "I left him outside with his friends. The last thing I heard was them deliberating whether it's worth it to fight the beast for the reward we offered."
Malik's brows drew together in frustration. He crossed the room with slow, heavy steps, like someone trying to control the urge to pace.
"Hmph!" he huffed. "They're too full of themselves. They act as if they are the saviors of this world. But without the sentients living inside them, they are nothing—helpless mortals with inflated egos."
Leyla walked up to him, her long pale fingers gently brushing against the rough skin of his hand. "That may be true," she said quietly. "But the reality is—they do have the sentients now. Whether we like it or not, that gives them the right to call themselves saviors. Or at least try to be."
Malik scoffed, but she saw the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.
"Not all the awakened are like them, Father," Leyla continued. "Many have used their powers for nothing more than profit—gathering wealth, manipulating others, chasing fame. Some have already crossed into darkness. You've seen the news. The world is unraveling faster than it ever did before the awakening."
"I know what I've seen," Malik muttered, turning away from her gaze. "And I've seen enough. The moment humanity is gifted with power, they poison it. Like always."
Leyla didn't flinch. She pressed forward, her voice steady. "But these three… they're different. You said so yourself. You looked into them, Father. With your seer's eye."
Malik stiffened. The silence hung for a heartbeat.
"They're not like the others," he admitted, grudgingly. "They're not chasing glory or gold. They're searching for strength… relentlessly. That's what makes them more dangerous than the rest."
Leyla took his hand more firmly now. "Or… it makes them more prepared."
Her father didn't respond, but his silence wasn't the dismissive kind. It was the kind that indicated he was listening, even if it pained him to do so.
"I know you're only trying to protect us. To protect the village," Leyla said softly. "But trust has to start somewhere. Just like me, they were chosen by the guardians for a reason. You always said that fate moves in circles too big for us to see. Maybe they're the beginning of something bigger."
"And if they aren't?" Malik asked coldly. "If they're just another storm pretending to be salvation?"
"Then we weather it," she said firmly. "But not by hiding. Not by rejecting every outstretched hand just because it's human."
Malik looked at her long and hard. Leyla didn't look away—not this time.
"You've grown reckless, daughter," he said finally. "Wiser than your years… and yet reckless."
"I learned from the best," she said, giving him a sly smile.
He shook his head, the corner of his mouth twitching ever so slightly. "We'll see if that reckless heart of yours costs us everything."
"I'd rather gamble on a heart than rot in fear," Leyla replied.
Malik sighed, walking to the carved window that looked out to the moonlit canopy beyond. "This beast," he said, his voice low now, almost nostalgic. "It wasn't always like this, you know. It was once one of our own. It used to guard the sacred grove before it turned wild."
Leyla tilted her head. "What changed it?"
"No one knows," he said. "Maybe time. Maybe being trap inside the dome. Maybe it went mad from being left behind. Or maybe… something darker got to it."
A heavy silence followed.
Then, Malik looked back at her, his expression unreadable. "If they do this—if they succeed—I will honor our promise. But mark me, Leyla… if they betray us, it will be you who will answer for it."
Leyla nodded. "I accept that."
She didn't say it out loud, but deep in her chest, where her heart beat a little too fast and her spirit flared like wildfire, she believed they wouldn't fail.
Malik looked troubled, his gaze drifting out toward the glowing treetops that shimmered beneath the twilight. "You think the deed is worth the reward we offered?" he asked slowly, his voice layered with concern. "Simple treasure… an artifact or two… that would've been more than enough. Things they'd actually prefer over old maps and dusty information from our archives."
Leyla didn't flinch. She stood her ground, calm and resolute.
"Yes," she said. "They would have preferred magical weapons. The enchanted blades. The armor forged in ancient fire. All those relics we've hoarded in our vaults for millennia. I'm sure they'd leap at the chance to wield them." She paused, then added firmly, "But that's not what they need."
Malik arched a silver brow. "No?"
"What they need," she continued, "is knowledge. Wisdom. Truth. Humans have forgotten who they are. Forgotten what this world was before the Dome. They stumble through ruins of a forgotten age, clinging to false histories manufactured by the fallen race—by those who shattered everything and rewrote reality in their image."
Her voice hardened, a rare fire igniting behind her usually serene tone.
"They don't know they're walking through the ashes of a lie," she said bitterly. "But we do."
Malik studied her, arms crossed. "You're far too invested in the affairs of men," he said at last. "You always have been. But this isn't our fight. It never was. It's theirs."
"Not anymore," Leyla said without hesitation. "It used to be their fight. But if we choose them as allies—if we're asking them to fight for us—then the least we can do is arm them with more than blades. We give them the truth. What they choose to do with it after that is theirs alone."
Malik sighed deeply, the sound echoing like wind through old trees.
"You speak like a queen already," he murmured.
Leyla blinked, surprised. He rarely called her by her title, let alone acknowledged her future role.
He turned to face her fully, the hard edges of his expression softening into something unreadable. "You are the princess," he said. "And as such, you have the right to offer them whatever part of our treasure you deem worthy. The decision is yours."
Leyla gave him a small, respectful nod. "Thank you, Father."
"But…" he added, lifting a finger like a warning carved in stone, "be cautious. Humans may change their colors like the wind changes direction. Even those who seem noble can be twisted by power. Especially when they start to realize what kind of legacy they're walking into."
"I understand," Leyla said quietly.
Malik looked at her for a long moment, then finally gave a weary nod. "Then may the winds of the ancients guide your decision."
He turned and walked away into the fading light, his cloak billowing softly behind him, leaving Leyla alone once more on the vine-wrapped balcony.
She placed a hand over her heart and whispered to herself, "Let this be the right choice."