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Chapter 693: Dialogue With The Elves (2)
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"No." Velthiri's pale eyes reflected starlight that hadn't yet appeared. "We want memory. A scrap. A phrase. Something real. If you claim to walk among our sorrow, walk where our grief grows. Alone. No blade drawn."
Draven inclined his head. He wouldn't surrender both swords—symbols mattered—but letting them hang undrawn was concession enough. Sylvanna, who had followed at the edge of the clearing, stepped forward, bow lowered yet ready. "Then I'll—"
Velthiri raised one pal ...
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