Chapter 15 – Masks and Mirrors
The Village's New Star
Within days, Seliora was no longer a guest—she was family.
The children adored her stories of faraway lands, the elders praised her courtesy, and even the once-suspicious farmers nodded with approval when she joined them in the fields.
To the villagers, she was light in dark times.
To Eryndor, she was a storm hiding behind calm skies.
She always found reasons to be near him—walking beside him to the river, sitting across from him at the fire, asking questions no one else dared:
"Do you ever feel caged here?"
"Don't you wish they saw you for what you truly are?"
Each word tugged at the doubts already buried in his chest.
---
Aethros' Warning
One evening, as Seliora charmed the villagers with song, Aethros pulled Eryndor aside. His voice was sharp, low.
"She is no wanderer."
"I know," Eryndor admitted. "But she hasn't harmed anyone. She—"
"She tests you," Aethros interrupted. "That is worse. A blade you can parry. But words, kindness, trust… those strike deeper. Beware her, child."
Eryndor's jaw tightened. Deep down, he feared the sage was right. Yet when Seliora's eyes found his across the firelight, warm and unguarded, part of him wavered.
---
Confrontation
Later that night, Aethros confronted Seliora directly.
He found her by the well, silver flame flickering faintly across her palm as she whispered into the water.
"You hide your wings poorly, envoy," Aethros said, staff glowing faintly.
Seliora didn't flinch. She turned, smile still soft. "Old man. Still clinging to the ways of gods you once served."
"Speak your purpose," Aethros demanded.
Her gaze sharpened, the warmth slipping just enough to reveal steel beneath.
"My purpose is simple. To show him he is more than this village. More than your lectures under the stars. He deserves to rise."
"You would twist him," Aethros growled.
"I would free him."
Their voices clashed in the night, though neither struck—the air itself trembling with restrained power.
And unseen, from his window, Eryndor watched. His heart pounded as doubt deepened. Who was right? The mentor who taught him restraint, or the stranger who offered freedom?