The carriage waited just beyond the garden gate, its frame carved from dreamwood and duskmetal, lanterns glowing with soft, steady light. It didn’t shimmer or gleam—it breathed. Like it had been waiting for her.
Calvinus offered his arm without a word. Elara took it, her fingers brushing velvet and warmth. Linny watched from the doorway, arms crossed, wings folded tight.
“Don’t forget,” she called, “you’re not a guest. You’re a question.”
Elara smiled faintly. “And what’s the answer?”
Linny winked. “That’s for them to figure out.”
Borin stood beside her, silent. He didn’t speak, but his gaze held everything—pride, worry, and the kind of love that doesn’t ask for anything in return.
Elara stepped into the carriage. For a moment, she glanced back at the cottage — its windows blinking s
