Marielle was pulled back to the present from her thoughts. Velarae and Jeremiaz were gone—what mattered was the here and now. She left the house to water the fields. Once she had finished the monotonous work, she decided to go into the village.

  She walked through the bright green meadows, the blades of grass swaying gently with each gust of wind. The sky was a clear blue, yet she still felt cold. She quickened her pace down the rocky paths, trying to escape the wind and chill.

  The village was deserted, which was nothing new. Since the war, many people had followed the royal family.

  But in front of the massive engraved gravestone, which daily displayed the latest casualties of the war, a figure knelt. The figure sat hunched over, their dark head bowed. The black leather vest they wore had been bleached by the weather.

  It took her a moment to realize who the figure was. Tristan.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  For a while, they both remained still. An eerie silence hung in the air, broken only by the rustling leaves and the occasional howl of the wind. Finally, she heard him sigh loudly. She turned away, just enough to slip behind a nearby abandoned house.

  It was an impulsive move, but she didn't want to confront him—not now. She sensed that this was not the right moment.

  As he turned and followed the path back into the village, she saw that his eyes were red and swollen. It wasn't quite pity that overwhelmed her, but something in between—something between surprise and empathy.

  In that moment, Tristan looked different, like a vulnerable, small boy.

  Marielle averted her gaze. She had better things to do than to pity those who stole from her. Everyone here was just trying to survive, but her family was her priority.

  That evening, after she had eaten dinner with her sisters, Yuna begged her to play hide and seek. The way Yuna stared at her with those big, ice-blue eyes always reminded her of Jeremiaz. The two of them had the same eye color.

  Yuna skipped ahead, laughing. "Wheee!" she cried out, making the trees and leaves tremble with her magic.

  Marielle was the only one who had never possessed any talent for magic—she had to settle for hunter training instead. Among the Blood Elves, hunters and rogues were the outcasts, as magic rejected them.