The moment Kyle and Silvy stepped fully into the Elf Village, all eyes turned to them.
Elves lined the high bridges, stood atop the spiraling tree homes, and clustered in the open paths below.
The air felt heavy with suspicion. Many faces shifted from shock to uncertainty, then hardened into cold glares the moment they saw Kyle.
Whispers rippled through the crowd.
"Is that… Silvy?"
"She's returned?"
"But who's that with her?"
Their language was smooth and musical, but the words were sharp with suspicion.
Some of the older elves looked genuinely relieved to see Silvy again. Familiarity warmed their eyes—but the moment they caught sight of the man beside her, relief turned to dread.
A low alarm call was sounded, and the crowd quickly grew tense.
Several warriors dropped down from the trees, weapons drawn.
Not magical constructs or mana-born spears—physical weapons. Real steel. Rusted in places. Primitive by elf standards.
