Finn looked at Adam and said with disappointment:
"I'm weak..." Finn sighed, but added on the exhale, "Eva says so."
Adam, without changing his expression, said calmly:
"Yes, perhaps you are indeed weak. But you passed his trial."
He paused, letting the words sink into the boy's mind, then added softly:
"Don't you want to take a walk?"
Finn quickly stood up when he asked him to. Thus, without haste, they walked back to the center of the settlement, to the fountain.
As they approached, the increasingly distinct, pacifying roar of the waterfall, which gushed upwards in powerful streams without dropping a single drop, reached Finn. The air here was filled with freshness and a light coolness. Approaching the very edge of the stone basin, Finn peered into the water. At the bottom, under the streams shimmering in the light, lay stones. Many smooth, water-polished stones. Several hundred, if not more. Each was the size of his palm, and each bore its own unique pattern carved into it.
Adam calmly gave him time to examine this underwater field of runes. The symbols were varied—from simple spirals and lines to complex, intertwined signs resembling either writing or star maps.
"Each stone is the story of each of us," Adam said quietly, his voice blending with the sound of the water. "We carve our name on this stone, dedicating ourselves to our family, and the Tree accepts it."
Finn silently looked at the stones shimmering in the depths, trying to comprehend the weight of this tradition. Then he slowly raised his gaze to Adam.
"And why is it so special to you? The Tree?"
A warm, almost joyful smile appeared on Adam's face, as if touched by an inner light.
"We live only thanks to the Tree," he replied, and his voice held serene confidence. "Its sap is our blood. Its breath is our air. The heart of the Tree... is our heart too."
He turned towards the fountain, as if looking through water and stone into the very essence of the great being that sheltered them.
"So decided our Creator."
Finn listened, captivated.
They slowly headed back towards the center of the settlement. Along the way, Adam gently broke the silence:
"Hungry? It's time for our meal."
Finn, whose stomach had been betraying him for several hours, nodded again, this time more animatedly.
Soon, the familiar aromas that had captivated Finn earlier reached them. They emerged into an open space with stone hearths, but the scene was different now. About a hundred elves, all roughly the same age—or at least equally young and perfect in appearance—sat on their haunches or on low wooden benches, forming a wide semicircle. In their hands were small containers, carved from dense, dark roots, from which they slowly drank. The contents resembled a thick stew of forest ingredients—mushrooms, roots, and herbs unknown to Finn, but no one used spoons or any other cutlery. They simply brought the bowls to their mouths and drank, their movements smooth and rhythmic, as if part of some ancient ritual. It seemed they didn't even know about the existence of cutlery.
As Adam and Finn passed by, every elf whose shadow reached them stopped their meal. Their postures straightened, and their gazes, full of silent respect, turned to Adam. A slight nod, a barely perceptible hand movement—that was all the greeting. But following this, dozens of pairs of eyes—emerald, silver, honey-colored—shifted to Finn. Their gazes were devoid of hostility, but they carried a close, unwavering study, mixed with quiet amazement. Finn felt as if he were a rare and previously unseen creature.
Adam led him to an elf who, judging by his confident movements and the way others made way for him, was in charge of this improvised kitchen. He, stirring a large ceramic dish placed directly on the hot stones of the hearth, politely bowed his head as they approached.
"Alleum, Adam."
"Alleum, my brother," Adam replied calmly. "Will you not refuse an extra portion for our guest?" he gestured to Finn.
The elf cook, who had been focused on his task until then, suddenly livened up. His dark amber eyes widened, and his gaze fixed on Finn with such intensity that the boy involuntarily took a step back.
"Is it really... him?" the cook whispered, and his voice, usually firm, trembled with excitement. "Did he truly pass our Creator's trial?"
At that moment, absolute silence hung in the air. The whisper of water, the crackle of fire—everything was absorbed by it. Every elf in the semicircle stopped their meal, turning their heads towards them at once. Hundreds of eyes stared at Finn, and their simple curiosity was replaced by something more—reverent awe and burning hope.
The silence was broken by the first restrained whispers, which were immediately picked up by others, growing like the hum of an awakened hive.
"Has our goal finally been achieved?.."
"So many years have passed..."
"Did anyone keep count?"
"No... We finished at the third thousand..."
These fragments of phrases reached Finn, and he stood, frozen under the weight of this suddenly fallen attention, feeling small and lost in the center of a storm he himself had inadvertently caused. Adam stood beside him, unperturbed, his marble face calm, as if he had expected such a reaction.
A little later, sensing Finn's confusion and discomfort, his shoulders hunched under the weight of hundreds of gazes, Adam raised his hand. The gesture was quiet, but authoritative, and it instantly cut through the hum, like a blade.
"Enough," his voice, usually soft, sounded firm and clear, silencing the last whispers. "Let our guest taste the fruits of our Tree, just as you do."
His words had an unfailing effect. As if on command, the elves lowered their eyes and returned to their meal, although the tension in the air still hung like a thick fog. Adam gestured for Finn to follow him and headed away from the main semicircle, towards a more secluded spot by the cave wall.
Finn, still embarrassed, obediently trudged after him. After moving a sufficient distance away, he seemed to stop for a moment, not knowing where to sit. And at that moment, the ground beneath his feet softly trembled. From the mossy cover, a wooden bench silently and smoothly rose, its forms smooth and streamlined, as if carved by water itself, not a chisel. The back and seat were generously filled with the same velvety, springy moss as everything around, promising incredible softness.
Adam sat down first, his movements full of accustomed grace. He silently indicated the place next to him with his hand and began his portion of stew, unhurriedly bringing the bowl to his lips. But his attention was fixed on Finn, as if he were waiting for some important reaction.
Finn, finally realizing how hungry he was, clasped his bowl in his hands. The aroma emanating from the thick, steaming stew was so tempting that all doubts and awkwardness instantly vanished. Unlike the elves, whose movements were meditatively slow, Finn, driven by hunger, instinctively brought the bowl to his mouth and began to greedily "drink" its contents. The thick mass, filled with the taste of baked mushrooms, tender roots, and unknown herbs, was surprisingly rich and delicious. He ate, or rather, drank, in large gulps, almost without tasting, choking on the desired satiety until the bowl was empty.
Adam, meanwhile, merely watched, his own cup already empty. The corners of his lips twitched into a slight, almost imperceptible smile as he saw how greedily his guest quenched his hunger.
No sooner had Finn placed the empty cup on his knees, feeling with relief the pleasant weight in his stomach, than a small offshoot silently grew next to him, right out of the wooden bench. At its end, like a flower, a familiar wooden mug blossomed, filled to the brim with the Tree's clear nectar.
Finn, without hesitation, grabbed it and emptied it in a gulp, washing down the remnants of the stew and quenching his thirst. The life-giving coolness of the drink spread through his body, intensifying the feeling of fullness and peace. Only then did he catch his breath and meet Adam's gaze.
He sat, calmly watching him, and a more obvious, warm smile now played on his marble face, in the rays of which all his former sternness melted away.
Their mutual silence lasted long enough. Finn, having quenched his hunger and thirst, observed the elves' living routine. His gaze swept across the settlement, immersing itself in its rhythm. Here, two elves in light armor, moving in unison, silently passed the distant huts, their eyes carefully searching the shadows between the houses – a patrol. On the training ground, lit by glowing berries, several pairs sparred. Their movements were so honed and smooth that they resembled a deadly dance, and the clang of clashing blades was clear and rhythmic, as if struck by a metronome. They honed their already perfect techniques, striving for an ideal unattainable for Finn.
And at the very foot of the mighty crown of the Tree, where the roots went into the cave walls, Eve, standing in the center of a group of young elves, was explaining something. Her gestures were sharp and precise, her face remained impassive. Finn couldn't make out the words, but from the tense posture of the listeners, he understood – it was about something important.
"What are they going to do?" he quietly asked Adam, nodding towards the group by the Tree.
Adam also looked into the distance. His gaze was directed not just at the elves, but specifically at Eve. And as if sensing his attention, she turned around. Their eyes met for a moment – Adam's serene wisdom and Eve's cold determination. She respectfully, but without servility, bowed her head in a short nod. Adam returned it with the same, barely perceptible movement.
Then he turned his gaze back to Finn.
"They are going to clear the trails leading to our settlement," he explained, and his voice became serious again. "Yesterday's events caused quite a stir in the human city. And the Great Houses will want revenge."
He paused, looking directly at Finn.
"For the loss of forces."
Finn frowned slightly, his eyes showing bewilderment.
"But don't they want revenge for the knights the elves killed?"
"No," Adam replied firmly. "Initially, their target was you, Finn. They know what you carry within you. Therefore, by possessing you, they will possess your power. And by possessing your power, they will rise higher in the hierarchy, becoming monopolists in many spheres. The knights, their lives – they are just consumables in this hunt. Dust in the wind. And you... you are the key to a new era of dominion for them."