Kyle felt the air shift the moment Lysander nestled quietly against his shoulder. The tension among the elves no longer hissed with fury but hummed with veiled calculation.
The glares still lingered, but now there was a new gleam behind their eyes—one of cautious ambition.
He had anticipated this.
"Elder, I'll be heading to the sacred tree now. There's much I need to confirm."
Kyle said calmly, turning toward the chief.
The elder chief regarded him solemnly, then nodded.
"Do what you believe is right. As long as your actions aim to aid the elf race, you will find no opposition from me."
Kyle offered a faint smile.
"That was always the plan."
With Lysander quietly perched on his shoulder and his cloak billowing behind him, Kyle began making his way toward the heart of the village—the place where the sacred tree stood.
The crowd of elves followed from a distance, whispering, watching with a mixture of reverence, envy, and doubt.
