The elf turned slightly toward Serena, his lips never moving as his voice slipped into a controlled transmission that only she could hear.
"Who is the boy?"
His eyes did not leave the unconscious figure in Spartan's arms.
He already knew the answer could not be simple.
As a Rank Four, he understood the cost of what was being done here. Elven treatment at this level was not something offered lightly. It consumed resources and favor. It was reserved for those whose existence mattered.
Of course, not all elven treatment cost one's entire fortune, but the condition he could faintly sense from the boy was one that did.
No Rank Four escorted an ordinary child across realms.
Serena's reply came just as quietly.
"I don't know for certain," she said.
"But I suspect he may be a holy child of the Aurora realm."
There was a pause.
The middle-aged elf wanted to raise an eyebrow.
