Nura sits rigid on a leather sofa the next evening, her gaze sightless on the flames curling in the hearth. The boarding house is quiet, soothingly so with its crackle of burning wood and the muffled laughter of two Elven children down the hall. But Nura isn't soothed.

Her troubled thoughts can't seem to settle on one thing to worry about. Jumping from her own immortality, the fight ahead, to their approaching meeting with Empress Lila Avarae. Nura should be used to carrying weight on her shoulders after being the head healer in Tiore during the war, but she could control things during the war. She knew how to save lives, and if she didn't know, then she could learn. But this... She can control none of this.

The door to the boarding house blows open, bringing with it a gust of chill wind and Talon with ruffled white curls and a grim set to his features.

"Only Yordi can put that type of look on his face," Elice murmurs from where she sits closer to the hearth in an armchair, her leg stretched out.

Nura's eyes flick to the woman who follows behind him, the loose strands of her black hair fluttering in the breeze.

"Yordórvi," Elice greets as the pair approaches.

The woman's dark bronze skin seems to glow within the golden light of the fire. Her hair is pinned back to reveal her pointed ears with many golden and opal earrings up the length. Her body is curvy, swathed in a flowing, mahogany dress, the neck dipping down to display a large necklace of white rock and silver chain. She reaches the lounge and places a hand encased in black leather on her hip. The gloves are the only part of her outfit that seem out of place.

"How you've aged in the short time you've been mortal," she purrs, her russet eyes assessing Elice.

"How you haven't changed in the past thirty years—" Elice's eyes are just as sharp as she narrows them at the woman, "—unfortunately."

Talon lets out a sigh as he stands beside Yordi, shaking his head. "Just tell them what you told me."

"Straight to business as always, Taliondil," she says with a flash of her teeth, the name making Talon flinch, a movement so minute Nura wouldn't have caught it if she hadn't been watching him closely. "Rólin is planning another war." Her amber eyes flick over each of them. "A war he plans to win."

"Against who?" Canaan questions.

Yordi approaches the low table, her dress whispering against the tiled flooring. Gloved fingers curl around a goblet and a pitcher of wine and she takes her time pouring herself a hearty amount. All the while Nura watches, her nails biting into her palms.

Nura already knows. The weight that squats on her chest tells her who this war is against, even before Yordi utters the words.

"Against Humans."

Drawing in a breath, she can't say she's surprised. That type of hate doesn't simply fade after thirty years of war.

"The Empress would never back him in another war," Elice says, tapping her cane against the floorboards, a scowl twisting her features.

"No, she wouldn't. But with the Sworn and Shadow Elves, Rólin doesn't need her army anymore. He's ready. All he needs is his inner circle."

In the silence that follows Yordi's words, Nura notices the coolness that trickles down her cheeks. She reaches up and touches the tears, her fingertips coming back damp. She stares at the wetness.

In the past six years, she's lived her life trying to leave the war behind. Some nights it felt like an impossibility, when she would wake drenched in sweat and trembling, the pained cries of the dying echoing in her ears. But she'd wake and she'd be able to tell herself that it was over. Rephas would be able to tell her that it was over.

All along they were both lying.

"You're telling me you didn't know this?"

Nura draws her gaze from her tears and wipes them on her trousers, Canaan's rumbling voice breaking the quiet. Canaan's dark gaze is on Talon, judgement marring his features.

"I thought..." Talon starts, his fingers flexing at his sides.

"You thought what, Talon? That Rólin was bringing us all together for tea?"

Talon meets Canaan's gaze, a spark of anger flaring within them like the sun hitting ice. "I thought he was bringing us together to kill us."

"You can't die," Canaan spits back and Nura flinches. "And you can't tell me you had no idea. Did you have no intention of even attempting to stop him from waging another war?"

"After seeing as many wars as I have, you begin to understand they're inevitable."

"I thought better of you, Talon."

Nura stands, unable to stomach hearing anymore. She doesn't meet their gazes as she leaves the boarding house and steps into the busy street, tipping her head back to stare at the mountains that loom over them.

How is it she's stumbled into another war? How is it that hardly a month ago she was only concerned about the prejudices of small-minded villagers?

And now she's an Elf. Now she has an etnevu. Now there's war on the horizon and her husband is still missing.

Gaze flicking to the Elves that pass by her, Nura's chest begins to tighten. How is it that her world is crumbling around her, yet everyone is so oblivious? Or maybe they're not oblivious. Maybe they just don't care if Humans are finally wiped off this continent. Nura has witnessed enough Human cruelty to understand why. Most would turn a blind eye to what Rólin is doing. Most would celebrate if Human ignorance was finally eradicated from Cirallian.

The door opens behind Nura and she steps out of the way, but Canaan exits, shrugging into a coat. He glances at her, the grim set to his features making her swallow.

"Are you alright?" he asks.

Nura huffs out a humourless laugh and wraps her arms around herself, feeling vulnerable without her cloak. "Am I alright? My life has become a heap of learning things that tell me everything I know is a lie. My life has always been war and pain and prejudice but this... What am I meant to do with all of this?" She bites the inside of her cheek as her words echo in the space between them, annoyed with herself for burdening Canaan with her woes. They all have more important things to worry about than Nura's shambled stability.

Canaan dips his chin, humming, before he steps back inside without saying anything.

Nura feels stupid all over again, but then he reappears and holds out her cloak. Meeting his eye and quirking a brow, Nura takes the cloak.

"Come," he says and inclines his head before walking. Nura blinks but jogs to catch up with his long stride.

"Where are we going?" she asks as she flips her hood up.

"You and I have more in common than you think." He glances down at her, the curls of his dark hair shadowing his already black eyes. "I'm half-Human."

Nura nearly stumbles at that, her gaze flicking to his pointed ears that jut out of the curls of his hair.

"Surgery," he supplies. "I was born as a flat-ear."

"Spirits," Nura whispers, having had no idea that people would even do that. But as someone who has faced judgement all her life, belonging on neither side of the border, she can understand why. "But why are you telling me?"

"I want you to understand that you're not alone," he says as they walk further into the city, the buildings becoming less clustered together and giving way to towering manors. "If there's another war with Humans, Elves will win."

"Why didn't they win the Abyssal War?"

Raising a hand, Canaan brushes his fingers along one of his ears. "There are more people than you realise that are on both sides of the border. Rólin has made sure to collect in recent years all those who aren't."

"Where are we going, Canaan?" Nura asks again.

"To see the Empress."

Once again, Nura nearly stumbles and it's only the fact that they're surrounded by strangers does she focus on her footing. "What about the others? I thought they were all meeting her?"

Canaan snorts and shakes his head. "Talon's made his intentions not to bother trying to stop this war perfectly clear." The bite of anger in his tone is a thing Nura can reconcile with.

Talon tried his damndest to prevent Nura from inserting herself into this fight and she's beginning to fully understand why. He knew the total scope of what was happening, and wasn't going to do a single thing to stop it.

She can only hope he changes his mind. She can't even comprehend how they're going to stop Rólin even with Talon, but without him... She dreads contemplating it.

"Elice has somewhere else to be," Canaan continues, gaze darting to her then away again. "And Yordi... Well, Lila is more likely to stab Yordi than talk to the woman."

Nura shakes her head. "Sometimes I really don't understand how you all came to be together."

Chuckling, Canaan shrugs. "We just stuck to calling it fate."

The sky has darkened by the time they reach the palace but the white stone is still bright, like snow beneath the glistening sun. Glass sparkles like stars and hedges rise in the gardens, cut into shapes but in the darkness they appear as shadowed guardians that loom over the stone steps leading to the palace.

Nura is almost thankful when they go around the gates, avoiding the palace and the figures that watch over it. She's sure during the day the palace is beautiful, but as the wind whispers through the emptying streets and fog begins to crawl along the cobble, she can't help but wrap her arms around herself.

For a while they walk in silence, leaving the cobbled streets behind to enter a sparse wood surrounding the walls and rising rock of the palace. She keeps her wary gaze on Canaan's broad back as he marches forward, purpose in his steps, like he's taken this path many times.

The only thing that stops her from turning back and running the other way is the fact that Canaan and her have the same goal. They both need the Empress' help to stop Rólin and she's beginning to grow tired of waiting while she knows Rephas is suffering.

But that doesn't mean her skin doesn't crawl as the trees shroud them in darkness.

"I thought we were going to see the Empress?" she questions, her voice too loud amongst the quiet.

"We are. Lila has many eyes on her and most don't want her on that throne. It's better to meet in secret."

"Right," she mutters, unhappy to be wandering once again into the unknown, but already knowing what she's willing to sacrifice to continue moving forward.

They leave the woods and emerge behind the towering spires of the palace, closer to the base of the mountain. They traverse amongst jagged rocks, Nura struggling to keep her footing on the slick ice that covers the ground.

Finally, Nura sees where they're going. Cut into the base of the mountain is a stone structure, dark and as still as a tomb. Nura glances at Canaan as he beckons her forward.

"What is this place?" she whispers, fearful that her voice could disturb whatever ghosts reside here. Not that she'd ever claim to believe in ghosts, but the way her hair stands up is making her question her scepticism.

"The original Avarae palace," Canaan murmurs as they pass pillars of destroyed stone and walk along cracked paths. Entering the structure built into the mountain, Nura blinks as her eyes struggle to adjust to the abyss.

Their footsteps echo in the hollowed mountain and Nura focuses on Canaan's steps before her.

"This is where the Empress is meeting us?"

"She will," he replies and the sudden flare of light in the darkness makes Nura flinch away from him. Flame curls around his hand before he flings it up. It catches in a brazier and ignites, lighting the crumbling palace, but to call it a palace would be an overstatement.

The ceiling is uneven stone that stretches further back. Darkness presses into the corners of the cavernous place, but Nura can still see a throne and cullumns leading towards it. But that's all there is.

For an Elven palace, Nura expected it to be grander, especially considering the palace just beyond the mountain.

"I thought it'd be..." She spins around, eyeing the cobwebs and cracks.

"Bigger?" Canaan supplies and she shrugs. "There were far less Elves about when this place was built."

"I guess I can see now why they rebuilt."

Canaan brushes the dust off a stone bench by a pillar and sits, crossing his legs at the ankles. "The newer palace was supposedly built after the defeat of Witches. Or so the stories go."

Nura draws in a breath at his words, remembering how the title of 'witch' was forced upon her and the hunters that came after her because of it. Then she remembers their frozen bodies and she brushes those thoughts away. "Do you believe the stories?"

"Witches are old stories to make everyone fear the wrath of the Spirits."

"Talon made it seem like all Elves believe in Witches."

He purses his lips. "I wasn't always an Elf. And Talon rarely speaks of the past, but when he does... Well, let's just say his stories are even more mythical than the myths."

Nura chuckles before her gaze rises to where the fire still burns close to an opening in the stone. "Now what?"

"We wait."

Sighing, Nura wraps her cloak tighter around herself before sitting, her back against a column and her gaze on the wide door where flurries of snow drift through moonlight.

"What made you do it?" Canaan asks.

"Do what?" she replies with a raised brow.

"Become an Elf."

She flicks her gaze to him. It's a question she's been unable to truly find the answer to. All she knows is it can't have just been to save her mother, a woman she doesn't even know, who abandoned her. "Why did you?"

His black gaze narrows at her a little before he shrugs. "Sometimes the best place to hide from your enemies is among them."

Nura's brows pinch together. His enemies? That would mean the Elves... Her eyes widen. "You fought for the Humans."

He exhales through his nose in what could be a laugh. "You could say that."

"How did you end up in service to Rólin?" Nura dares to ask. Each of them came to be here, and so far none of the stories have been pleasant.

"I betrayed the Dark King. There weren't many options left for me after that."

Before she can reply to that bit of information, the flame above them is snuffed out by a brisk wind that sweeps through the stone. Nura scrambles to her feet, her pulse jumping in her throat, but Canaan stays seated.

"I thought you were dead," comes a voice from the dark before a small flicker of flame ignites and lights a candle clasped in a gloved hand. The person enters the chamber, cloaked and swathed in shadow.

The corner of Canaan's lip lifts. "Unfortunately you're going to have to tolerate me a while longer, your majesty."

"It's always a pleasure, commander," the woman replies and then her head shifts and Nura feels her gaze.

"Lila, this is Nura Wolfire, Rephas' wife."

"Nura," the woman repeats and pushes back her hood.

Nura doesn't know what she expected the Elven Empress to look like. Perhaps beauty incarnate, all ice and frost and cruelty. But the woman who tilts her head and offers Nura a soft smile isn't that. Hazel eyes are brightened by the candle in her hand, like Harvest leaves in the sunlight. They're kind eyes, maybe somewhat tired.

"The gifted healer from Tiore," she continues. "I've heard of you and all the good you've done."

"You've heard of me?" Nura questions, a little breathless.

"Of course. I never expected to meet you though, opposite sides of the border and all that." Her hazel eyes flick to Canaan, her smile dimming. "But I suppose Rólin has a way of... connecting people. That is why you're both here?"

"Rólin is making his move," Canaan says. " Gathering his people for his war against Humans."

Empress Lila blows out a breath before she walks forward, her navy blue cloak whispering against the stone. She raises her candle and illuminates the crumbling stone of the throne. "Has the inner circle gathered?"

"Talon, Elice, and Yordi. Rólin has taken Rephas."

Lila ascends the steps to the throne. She pauses before it, the light of her candle sinking into each crack and crevice of the old stone. "I always knew this day would come." She turns and sits, her cloak pooling over the throne like a waterfall. Her light brown features are stony, like she's slipped a mask over her face. But her mask can't cover the dark circles smudged beneath her eyes or the tautness of her tanned skin over her cheekbones.

"Will you help us?" Nura asks, moving towards her even as her pulse throbs in her neck.

She doesn't know this woman, doesn't know where her true loyalties lie, nor how far her mercy extends. Will the Empress of Elves really aid the Humans? Shouldn't she want more land for her people? Shouldn't she want the Elves to be victorious?

"This will start a civil war," the Empress says, tapping her fingers against the throne. "And Rólin has the Shadow Elves. I have no way of knowing their numbers."

Nura's gaze darts to Canaan as he stands and begins to pace, his jaw flexing. "He could win."

"He could," she replies with a nod. "And I would have divided the Elves for nothing. My reign is already shaky, losing to Rólin could very well lead him to being Emperor."

Nura presses her hands to her stomach, imagining a world where a monster like Rólin sits on the Elven throne. It would be genocide, and there would be no one in power to stop him. No one but the Spirits. Nura lost faith in them during the war.

"But I'll try," Lila continues, lifting her head and straightening her spine. "Rólin has a strong following. I just have to hope the Elves see injustice in what he's doing." Lila stands, even as Nura fights the urge to sink to her knees.

Their hope resides in a civil war that may lead the Humans closer to extinction. Their hope resides in an inner circle of people who can't harm Rólin and who have done terrible things in his name.

What kind of hope is that?

"I'll begin making arrangements," she says, approaching the opening to the palace.

But something sparks in Nura's gut. She can't continue to sit idle and watch while her world falls apart. She needs answers and she already knows which question to ask first.

"Wait," Nura says, blocking off the Empress' exit. "Before you go, may I ask you something?"

She tilts her head, curls of oaken locks slipping from her braid. "Of course."

"What are the statues of Bielfrit?" From the corner of her eye, Nura sees Canaan's shoulders stiffen, but the Empress doesn't have a similar reaction. Instead, a sadness creeps into her hazel eyes.

"They're the alternative to what should have been a bloodbath when Rólin orchestrated the attack on Bielfrit."

"What do you mean?" she presses, speaking around the lump that begins to form in her throat.

"Go to the Wraith Lake at sun-up and you'll see." She turns to Canaan. "Tell the others to be ready to leave for Kepfew once I've organised my people. I want to stop Rólin as quickly as possible."

Canaan bows his head and Lila walks around Nura to disappear into the night. Hands twisting in her cloak, Nura contemplates the Empress' words. What will she find at Wraith Lake? Whatever it is, she intends to find out. Nura has been left in the dark for long enough.