Two days passed. 

They went by slowly, and my routine continued as usual. 

We were sitting at the table, eating breakfast. Nothing had changed…well, something has changed. 

Beside me sat Valmira, devouring the food. She didn’t leave yet. 

She was on her second bowl. 

I watched in silence as she scooped another generous portion, chewing with an intensity that made it look like the food might fight back if it had the chance. For someone who spoke with grace and carried herself like royalty, her eating habits were…unexpected.

Mom stared for a moment before smiling politely. “You don’t have to rush, Valmira. There’s plenty.” 

Valmira nodded quickly, too quickly. “Mm!” she replied, mouth full, clearly misunderstanding the suggestion. 

Dad glanced at the rapidly emptying dishes, then at me. Our eyes met. 

I looked away. 

I felt something brush against my side. I glanced down. 

Valmira had leaned closer, whispering, “Is it rude if I ask for more?” 

I hesitated. “You already did. Twice.” 

Her eyes widened. “Oh…” She glanced down at her bowl—and the ones she had already emptied.

A second later, she raised her hand anyway. “Aunt Amilia…may I have more?”

Aunt? I paused for a moment before shrugging it off.

Mom chuckled softly and stood up. “Of course. You must’ve been hungry.”

Valmira beamed. “Yes! Your cooking is so good!”

I stared at my half-finished plate. Somehow, I’d lost my appetite—and I wasn’t sure how that happened.

Mom glanced at my plate and frowned. “Kairon, finish your food.” She nodded toward Valmira. “Look at Valmira. Eat like her.”

Valmira shot me a smug look, her cheeks puffed out from how much she was eating.

I gave Mom a wide-eyed look before nodding. “Uh…yeah. I’ll try,” I muttered.

As if. I have the appetite of a sparrow.

A sigh escaped me as I scooped another spoonful and forced myself to eat. After a few bites, I was already full. I stared at my plate. Just two more bites and it’s done.

Come on, me. You’ve endured Mom’s training; food won’t defeat you. I took another bite, my hands slightly shaky, my stomach protesting immediately.

One…last bite.

I shoved the rest of the food into my mouth and swallowed without chewing. My stomach lurched, and I felt the food threaten to come back up.

Oh no, you don’t.

I grabbed a glass of water and chugged it down, forcing everything to stay where it belonged. My body slumped back against the chair as I breathed heavily.

Thud.

The sound made my head snap toward Valmira, who had just finished her third bowl.

My eyes went cartoonishly wide.

How? How was she not fat yet?!

She sighed blissfully. “I’m full now. Thank you, Aunty!”

Mom patted her head while giggling at her.

Now you’re full?! Eating that much alone should be unhealthy…

Dad rubbed his forehead, looking just as stunned as I felt. “This child has one hell of an appetite,” he said with a chuckle, leaning back in his chair. 

I glanced at Valmira again. She’s been here for two days. Which was odd; no one was here to get her either.

I hesitated for a moment before speaking. Something that had been nagging at the back of my mind since yesterday. “Hey…” I said casually, my gaze drifting from Valmira to Dad. “Isn’t it kind of weird?”

Dad raised an eyebrow. “Weird how?”

I scratched my cheek. “Well…she’s an elven princess, right?” I tilted my head toward Valmira, who was busy licking the last grains of rice from her bowl. “Shouldn’t half the elven kingdom be panicking by now? I mean, their youngest princess just…vanished.” 

Valmira paused mid-lick. 

Dad snorted before I could feel awkward about it. “You’re sharper than you look, kid.”

I frowned. Mom and Valmira giggled.

He waved it off, still amused. “I already sent word.” 

That made me blink. “You did?”

“Yeah, yesterday,” he said calmly. “Straight to Aelrion.”

Valmira’s fingers curled around her bowl. She didn’t look up, but her shoulders loosened a little.

“They probably won’t send out search parties,” Dad continued. “If they did, then the civilians would panic. That’s the last thing they want.” He reached out and patted Valmira’s head.

I leaned back in my chair. “So…they know she’s here?” 

He raised a finger. “They know she’s safe,” he corrected.

Valmira raised her head to look at Dad. “You really told him?” she asked quietly. 

Dad nodded. “I wouldn’t keep something like that from an old friend.” He grinned and crossed his arms behind his head. 

Valmira let out a small breath, one she’d clearly been holding in. 

My gaze stayed on Valmira, though I was speaking to Dad. “So…she’s not in trouble?”

Dad smiled faintly. “Not for now.” 

Valmira puffed her cheeks. “That’s good.”

I exhaled a sigh, tapping my fingers lightly on the table.

Valmira relaxed into her seat, shoulders dropping as if the weight had finally slipped off her back. She picked up her spoon again, stirring the empty bowl absentmindedly. “Then… I can stay a little longer, right?” she asked, trying to sound casual, though her eyes flicked to Mom. 

Mom smiled while picking up the dishes, “Of course you can!” 

Valmira’s ears twitched. She looked down and mumbled a quiet “Thank you.” 

I watched the exchange in silence. Somehow, the house felt…fuller. Not louder. Not crowded. Just different, like an extra heartbeat had been added without anyone asking.

Dad pushed his chair back as he stood up, stretching his neck. 

Before I could get off my chair, a knock came from the door. 

Two knocks. Not loud. Not urgent. They were deliberate and measured.

The room fell quiet. Everyone looked at the door. Mom set the bowl down slowly, her eyes narrowing. 

“I’ll get it,” Dad said, his voice steady as he walked over. 

He opened the door.

An elf stood outside. He was tall, his presence filling the doorway without effort. Long, cream-toned hair fell neatly past his shoulders, untouched by dust or wind, and his blue eyes were sharp, far too sharp for someone who had just arrived casually at a farmhouse. He wore simple travel attire, yet nothing about him felt ordinary. 

He gave Dad a nod and walked in. 

His gaze swept over everyone, then stopped at Valmira. “Princess, you're safe.” 

Valmira nodded, standing up from her chair. “Yes, I am.” She replied.

He then looked at me, and something changed. A ghost of a smile played on his lips. He nodded, as if acknowledging me. 

My heart beat quickened. This was the person who killed that beast in one strike…and the person who knows about my core. I gulped, feeling nervous under his intense gaze. 

Mom stepped forward, expression stoic. “Why are you here?” She questioned, her voice flat.

The elf didn’t bristle at her tone. Instead, he clasped his hands behind his back and exhaled slowly, as if choosing his words with care. “Because borders are no longer quiet,” he spoke, his voice calm. “Not for humans. Not for elves, dwarves, and demi-humans. And certainly not for the goblins.”

He turned slightly, pacing a step across the room as he continued, his presence commanding without raising his voice. “The goblin tribes have begun moving again. Not in raids—not yet—but in patterns. Organized ones. They’ve abandoned old territories, crossed lines they never dared to before, and forced the closest people into responding.” His gaze flicked briefly toward the window, as though the fields were part of the problem. “Both races’ royal families are constantly on the edge.”

My eyes widened, not out of shock, but because I completely forgot about races besides us humans and elves!

My eyes went from Mom to Valmira to Dad. Each one had a different reaction. Mom’s face was still stoic, though I could see the fire in her eyes. Dad had his jaw clenched, while Valmira just looked around curiously. 

The royal court has not been still for weeks,” he continued. “Meetings. Negotiations. Councils that stretch long into the night. Every race is being pulled into discussions, some openly, some reluctantly. And in times like these…” His eyes softened as they returned to Valmira. “The youngest are the most vulnerable. Not because they are weak, but because they are left behind. Forgotten under pressure. The loneliness they feel starts to show.” 

Mom didn’t interrupt, but I could feel the weight in the room grow heavier. 

“King Aelrion made a decision,” he stopped pacing around. “A temporary decision to place distance between the princess and the unrest. To give her time where she wouldn’t feel lonely. Somewhere trusted.” His gaze drifted toward Dad now, steady and unflinching. “Grayfen sits close to the border between us, yet far from politics. And Rendal Vael is not a man the king doubts.”

Dad didn’t puff his chest or deflect it. He simply gave a nod. 

“And Amilia Vael,” the elf added, turning back to Mom, “is more than capable of keeping her safe.” 

Silence followed. 

“So Princess Valmira will remain here,” he finished. “Until the situation stabilizes. Until decisions are made that will affect more than just borders.” His eyes briefly drifted upward, distant, thoughtful. “There are…roles being discussed. Responsibilities that will soon require people who can act when kingdoms cannot.”

My heart calmed a little. That was the first time I felt it. It wasn’t fear, but anticipation mixed with an odd sense of thrill. 

He finally straightened, the tension easing just slightly. “This is not a burden,” he said. “It is trust.”

Silence again. It stretched for a moment before Dad spoke. “If that’s the case,” he said calmly, “then she can stay.” He leaned back against the table, arms folding loosely. “This house has weathered quieter days and louder ones. Another chair at the table won’t change that.” 

The elf studied him for a moment, as if weighing the simplicity of the answer against the weight of what it implied. Then he inclined his head slightly. “That is precisely why the king trusts you,” he said. “You do not see this as sheltering royalty. You see it as sheltering a child.” 

Mom exhaled through her nose, her posture easing slightly. “She will be treated differently here.” She smiled at Valmira. “No guards. No special meals. No titles. If she stays, she lives like family.”

Valmira hesitated, then nodded. “That’s…fine,” she replied quietly. 

The elf seemed satisfied with that. “Then my duty here is done,” he said. “For now.” His gaze drifted once more around the room before briefly settling on me again. He approached me and crouched down to my level and whispered in my ear, “Don’t worry, I didn’t tell anyone about your core, and I won’t tell anyone.” He smirked for the first time since he arrived. 

Oh, so you do know how to smirk. I cleared my throat and nodded. “Thank you,” I muttered. 

He stood up and turned toward the door. “I will return when circumstances change, or when decisions are finalized.” 

Before he could exit, I rushed over to him. “Wait!” 

He paused and turned to look at me. “Hm?” 

“Y-your name… You never said your name.” I mumbled…Why the hell do I sound like a high school girl?! 

“Ah…” He opened the door and shot me a glance. “My name is Letharion Sylvaris.” 

The door closed behind him with a soft click. 

“He’s cool, right?” Valmira stood beside me, staring at the closed door.

“Super cool,” I muttered, staring at the door as well. 

She giggled and walked back to the table, starting to help Mom with the dishes. 

Valmira hummed to herself as she stacked the bowls, moving around the kitchen with a kind of ease that felt strange considering she hadn’t been here long. Mom handed her a cloth without comment, watching her for a moment before turning back to the sink. The air settled again, back to that familiar quiet that always followed something important. Dad leaned against the wall, arms crossed, gaze distant, as if his thoughts were still following Letharion, who had just left.

I stayed where I was for a bit, staring at the door longer than necessary, then I went toward the wooden sword I’d been training with.

A knock broke the silence.

It wasn’t loud or urgent. Just three firm taps against the door.

Mom froze mid-motion. Dad straightened instantly. Even Valmira paused, cloth in hand, glancing toward the entrance.

“I’ll get it,” Mom said, already moving.

She opened the door, and the mood shifted again.

A woman stood outside, bundled in a travel cloak dusted lightly with dirt, a leather satchel slung over her shoulder, and papers peeking out from its flap. Her chestnut-brown hair was tied back loosely, strands already slipping free, and her hazel eyes brightened the moment she saw Mom.

“Amilia!” she said warmly. “You would not believe the roads today—if I had to dodge one more wagon—oh.” Her gaze flicked past Mom, taking in the room, the table, the extra presence. “Ah. So I did come at a good time.”

Mom sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Liora,” she said, already tired. “You never come at a normal time.”

Liora Bellwyn—Mom’s friend who visits now and then—laughed, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “Normal is overrated. Besides,” she added, adjusting her satchel as her eyes landed on me, then Valmira, curiosity sparking immediately, “I had a feeling today would be… interesting.”

I didn’t know why, but the moment she entered, I knew. Whatever peace we’d had left…It was officially over.