The hall did not breathe for several heartbeats.
Corvin's vow still lingered in the air, as if the very walls had absorbed it—an old promise finding its final echo. Zelene felt it settle on her skin like warm dust: gentle, but impossible to shake off.
Finally, the Elder lifted her cane and tapped it lightly on the floor.
"Come," she said. "You must see the rest of our home. Understanding grows where eyes have walked."
Corvin nodded once, then stepped aside to let Zelene and her companions follow. Ray stayed close enough that their shoulders brushed with every turn. Finn, meanwhile, kept glancing between Zelene and Corvin as though watching two wildly incompatible puzzle pieces somehow slide into place.
As they stepped outside, the village opened like a storybook halfway through its tale.
Wooden homes with woven roofs clustered beneath sprawling redleaf trees. Children with ember-red hair ran past, chasing each other with sticks that glowed faintly at the tips. Women stirred pots over outdoor fires. Men carved spears, their eyes flicking up curiously as Zelene walked by.
Everywhere she looked—red hair, red hair, red hair.
And then her own reflection in a polished basin.
Silver-lilac.
Twilight violet.
She felt like a smudged stroke of the wrong color in a carefully painted mural.
Finn whistled low.
"Okay, so… this place is kind of adorable," he said. "Dangerously adorable. Like if a kitten became a village."
Ray sighed. "Finn, please."
"No, but look! That kid has a fire stick! I've always wanted a fire stick!"
Corvin slowed to walk beside Zelene—not too close, but close enough that she could feel the steadiness of him like a second spine.
"You said earlier," he murmured, "that you do not know why you were chosen."
Zelene's breath hitched.
"Because I don't," she whispered. "I truly don't."
He watched her face carefully.
Never intrusive.
Always reverent.
"Then why," he asked gently, "seek the Auryns at all?"
Zelene stared at the ground for a moment—bare earth, small stones, the prints of many feet who belonged here far more than she did.
Finally she answered.
"Because something is coming," she said softly. "Something I don't fully understand. And I don't even know if I'm the Crimson Auryn or just… a girl with strange hair and stranger coincidences."
Her throat tightened.
"I'm afraid of being wrong. Afraid of leading others into danger for something that might not even be true."
Ray's head snapped toward her at that, but he said nothing. The emotion in his eyes said enough:
You're not alone in this.
Corvin listened without interrupting.
"And yet," Zelene whispered, "I keep going. Because if the Auryns are real—and if they can stop what's coming—then I have to find them. Even if I'm not the one they're meant for."
Corvin stopped walking.
Zelene did too.
His voice was quiet, but it carried like a flame in darkness.
"I do not follow you because I believe you are perfect," he said. "Or certain. Or ready."
Zelene looked up at him, startled.
"I follow you," Corvin continued, "because the flame within me recognized you before you recognized yourself. You seek answers not for yourself, but for others. That alone is the way of the Crimson Auryn."
She opened her mouth—then closed it again, unsure if her heart was swelling or breaking under the weight of his words.
Finn, oblivious to the emotional gravity, poked Ray's arm.
"So just to confirm," he whispered loudly, "Corvin is… what? Zelene's fire prince guy? Loyalty dude? Human torch mascot?"
Ray closed his eyes.
"Finn, please stop talking."
Corvin's lips lifted—barely, faintly, the smallest ghost of amusement.
The Elder joined them then, stepping out of her home with surprising strength for her age.
"You carry many doubts, child," she said to Zelene, "and doubt is not the enemy of destiny. It is often its beginning."
She motioned toward the village square, where a large carved stone stood like a sentinel.
"Come. There is more you must see."
As they walked again, Corvin drifted once more to Zelene's side. His voice was softer now—gentler than flame, older than memory.
"You may not believe you are the Crimson Auryn," he said, "but belief is not required of destiny. Only courage. And you have that, even if you do not yet see it."
Zelene felt her heartbeat trip—once, sharply.
Ray noticed.
Finn noticed.
Everyone noticed.
But only Corvin pretended he didn't.
Because loyalty, for him, was not a chain
—it was a promise spoken by a heart that remembered something older than itself.
And Zelene…
Zelene walked forward, unaware that with every step she took, she was beginning to fit into the shape the world had been saving for her.