This wasn't the triumphant march he'd dreamed of. No tall and radiant elves recognizing his spark and opening their halls wide.

  Instead, he stumbled forward like a market hog, wrists bound with ropes that glowed and hummed against his skin. The arrow wound in his shoulder throbbed with every step, a constant reminder of the danger he was in.

  I'm getting hung or worse, and I'll never to get to tell pa goodbye.

  The silver gates loomed ahead, taller than any building back home. Beyond them, spires of ivory and gold pierced the sky, their spires catching the dawn and shining back into his eyes.

  For a heartbeat, he forgot the ropes. His heart swelled with awe that cut through the pain.

  This was it. The real Elven city, most never laid eyes on it in there entire lifetime. To some, elves were still rumors and old legends.

  A guard's voice cut through the wonder. "Eyes down, mortal."

  Akilliz dropped his head.

  One guard spoke to his companion in their own tongue. They laughed, the sound making him even more nervous. The one holding his rope yanked hard. "Walk faster. The Council has better things to judge than mud born filth."

  The gates swung open silent as ghosts.

  Warmth washed over him as they crossed the threshold. Sudden and overwhelming, subtle magic seeped into his bones, warming him and bringing a sensation of natural relaxation.

  Whispers followed as more of them came into view.

  "A mortal. In the city proper."

  "Look at the state of him."

  "What did he do?"

  Just cold curiosity, like he was an animal that had wandered into their parlor.

  The guard yanked him left toward a white marble building. They shoved him through massive doors into a vast chamber. Walls glowed with sourceless light as he walked, the guard suddenly pushed him forward and he stumbled - barely catching himself.

  Four armored elves entered in perfect unison. Golden helms that caught the light like crowns. They took places behind a raised dais, silent and watchful.

  Then she entered.

  Thalindra Vael'Shara.

  Her helmet gleamed brighter, shaped like a sunburst with five long spikes extending in every direction. Robes of green and white flowed over her armor. At her chest burned a mark of living flame, flickering soft and steady.

  Behind her, even the guards who'd hauled him in bowed their heads.

  She took her seat. The flame on her chest pulsed once.

  "I am Thalindra Vael'Shara, High Judiciar of Luminael." Her voice filled the chamber without raising. "These are my Sentinels of the Eternal Watch: Kael'vyn, Lysara, Tharion, and Vaelis." She gestured to the armored figures, their eyes like chips of ice. "We gather to judge thy reported crimes. Thy fate rests in my hands."

  She paused, letting the weight settle.

  "Kael'vyn will speak the charges."

  The largest Sentinel stepped forward.

  "Akilliz of Lumara. Thou art accused of igniting flame upon sacred ground within the Mistwood. Harvesting restricted materials without leave. Trespassing in elven lands. Carrying knowledge not freely given." He paused. "It is our custom to quench the life of any who violate these laws. Yet certain irregularities in thy case warrant examination before judgment is rendered."

  Akilliz's throat went dry. "I didn't mean any harm. I was just trying to reach Luminael to study. My mother—"

  "Silence." Thalindra raised one hand. "Thou wilt speak when questioned. Not before."

  She turned to the guards who'd brought him in. "Present the evidence."

  They placed his pack on a marble table. Pulled out Ma's journal. The Lightspire Bloom in its vine-etched bottle. The vial of sacred dew, set apart from the rest.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Thalindra's hand moved to the dew vial first. She held it without opening it. The chamber went very quiet.

  "Sacred dew," Kael'vyn said. His voice had dropped a register. "Collected from the Mistwood's heart without leave. This is among the most restricted of our resources." He looked at Akilliz with something beyond contempt. "Even our own novices are forbidden from harvesting it unaccompanied."

  Then Thalindra lifted the Bloom. She took the bottle in her hands with reverence, like holding something that might shatter, and opened it carefully.

  The Bloom pulsed in response to her touch. Soft and steady.

  "This is Aurelia's blessing," she said quietly. "Harvested from Frosthelm's peaks. Difficult even for our people to obtain. And it responds to elven magic still." She looked at Akilliz. "How did a mortal child come by such a thing?"

  "I climbed Frosthelm myself," Akilliz said. "I needed it to save my mother. She was dying and I thought if I could brew the right potion..."

  His voice cracked. He swallowed hard.

  "I was too late. She died before I got back. But the Bloom is mine. I earned it."

  Thalindra set the bottle down and oened the journal. Her fingers traced the pages, turning them slowly.

  "Lunar Tonic. Starpetal Salve. Feverfew Kiss." She looked up. "These are taught to first year students in our halls. Where did this journal come from?"

  "My mother. Elowen of Lumara. She trained here years ago, taught me everything she knew. Potions, herbs, how to listen to what the earth provides. It wasn't enough. When she got sick, I couldn't save her."

  The chamber fell quiet.

  Thalindra closed the journal. "Elowen." She said the name like tasting something half forgotten. "Did she speak of her training here? Of those who taught her?"

  Akilliz hesitated. "She mentioned someone once. But she didn't say much about her time here. Just the recipes. The techniques she learned."

  Kael'vyn's voice cut sharp. "Convenient. The boy claims lineage but cannot name her teacher."

  Lysara spoke next, tone dismissive. "Perhaps the journal was stolen. Or purchased from some exile who fled our halls."

  "Or inherited from a thief," Tharion added.

  They were closing in. He could feel the chance slipping away.

  The demon whispered.

  I know the name.

  No. Not here. Not now.

  He shoved it down. Pain flared in his chest where the pact sat like a coal.

  "I don't know her teacher's name," he said, voice steadier than he felt. "Ma didn't talk about it much. But the journal is real and the recipes are hers. I've used them to heal, they work."

  Thalindra tilted her head. "Show us."

  Akilliz blinked. "What?"

  "If thou hast used these recipes, prove it. Name the ingredients for Lunar Tonic. The process. The timing."

  His mind raced. Ma had taught him this one by heart.

  "Take moon-kissed water and set it over a low flame with gentle heat. Never let it rage to a boil. When it begins to steam, add the primrose petals and the lavender. Stir widdershins three times to draw the heat downward. Drop in the chamomile and a good pinch of willow bark. Let it all steep until the color deepens to a soft golden-gree. Then, Strain it through fine linen or silk. Cool it in the shade."

  Silence.

  Thalindra's flame flickered. "The hymn of Aurelia. How dost thou know it?"

  "She sang it to me when I was sick as a child. Said it was part of the brewing. That intention made the difference between medicine and water."

  Lysara spoke, voice softer now. "He speaks true."

  Kael'vyn frowned. "Any exile could have taught him this."

  "Perhaps." Thalindra walked closer to Akilliz. "But the Bloom complicates matters. It should not thrive in mortal hands. Yet it lives."

  She held the bottle up to the light. The petals pulsed steady.

  "There is purity in this, child." She turned to the Sentinels. "What say you?"

  Kael'vyn's jaw tightened. "The law is clear. He violated sacred ground. He should face execution."

  "The law allows for exceptions," Vaelis said quietly. "In cases where intent is unclear. Where extenuating circumstances exist."

  "He is mortal," Kael'vyn shot back. "That alone—"

  "Is not a crime," Lysara interrupted. "Foolish, yes. Arrogant to think he could simply walk into Luminael and demand training. But he kept Aurelia's blessing alive. These things speak to character."

  Tharion nodded slowly. "I agree. Execute him and we waste potential. The boy has skill. Raw, untrained, but present."

  Kael'vyn looked to Thalindra. "You would spare him? Set precedent that mortals can violate our laws without consequence?"

  "No." Thalindra's voice hardened. "Consequences there must be. But execution serves no purpose here." She turned to Akilliz. "Here is my judgment."

  The chamber fell silent.

  "The Lightspire Bloom shall be confiscated. It belongs to our sacred groves and cannot remain in mortal hands. The sacred dew likewise. Thou art banished from Luminael, never to return on pain of death. No training within our halls. No second audience. This is mercy, more than most receive."

  Akilliz's heart sank. "Please. The Bloom is all I have left of her. It's proof I tried. Please don't—"

  "It is decided." Thalindra gestured.

  Two guards moved to the table. One lifted the Bloom with careful hands.

  "No!" Akilliz lunged forward. Strong hands caught him. Held him back. "That's mine! I earned it! I climbed that mountain! Please!"

  The guards pulled him backward. The one holding the Bloom turned and walked toward a side door, its light fading as distance grew between them.

  "Please," Akilliz said again, voice breaking. "It's all I have left of her."

  Thalindra's voice softened. Barely. "Thou hast thy mother's journal. Her recipes. Her knowledge. The Bloom must return to sacred soil where it belongs."

  She nodded to the guards holding him. "Escort him to the gates. See that he departs unharmed."

  They hauled Akilliz toward the door. He didn't fight. Couldn't. All the strength had gone out of him.

  At the threshold, Thalindra called out.

  "Child."

  He turned, barely.

  She stood from her seat, stepped close enough that only he could hear. Her voice dropped to a whisper.

  "Thou art on the right road, yet the wrong path was taken."

  She straightened before he could respond.

  "Take him."

  The guards pulled him into the corridor. Through gleaming streets where elves watched with cold curiosity. Past fountains that sang and gardens that bloomed impossibly bright. Back toward the silver gates.

  The gates closed behind him with a soft, final hum.

  Akilliz stood alone in the vast field. Grass stretched endless toward the Mistwood's dark line. The sun climbed higher, warm on his shoulders despite the emptiness in his chest.

  He sank to his knees in the grass.

  Yet Thalindra's whisper echoed softly in his mind.