He looks away from us and lifts his gaze to the Moon.
His eyes shimmer.
A faint smile curves his lips.
Then he draws a slow, steady breath.
A soft flush colors his cheeks, making him seem suddenly younger.
And he begins.
-----
"To tell you this story… I need to go back to a time when Baelkers and I were nothing more than young elf children, playing with our friends—a large, unruly group of kids from every corner of the realms.
That was when we first met her.
Aer.
A human girl from the mortal world, gifted with something rare and extraordinary: the ability to feel nature in all its forms—and to see every being of the Great Universal Kingdom.
She was lively. Warm-hearted.
We grew attached to her almost immediately. We respected her. We loved her.
Even though she came from a world completely different from ours, no one feared her. She was so imaginative, so vibrant, that she became our most precious playmate.
She and I… first we were best friends.
And then—though we were still so young—we fell in love.
But my parents would never accept it.
The idea that the firstborn son—the Heir Prince of the Elves—might love a human… that she could one day become Queen of our people… was unthinkable to them. I ignored their protests. I refused to leave her.
So they cast a spell upon her.
One that made her unable to see me ever again.
It was a devastating blow. For both of us.
The spell didn't take away her gift.
She could still see everyone.
Everyone… except me."
-----
His breathing grows uneven.
His voice roughens, just slightly.
Even now, the memory still hurts him.
Dorcha and I exchange a glance.
Maybe we should stop him.
We don't have the chance.
-----
"I could see her. I spoke to her.
But she couldn't hear me—couldn't sense my silent presence.
Our friends had been forbidden, by royal decree, from telling her the truth. One by one, embarrassed and helpless, almost all of them drifted away.
Only my brother remained. And Fheall—a young, brave gnome, and our dearest friend.
Fheall and Baelkers tried to comfort her, but she didn't believe a single excuse they came up with.
She was proud.
Stubborn.
She convinced herself that I had chosen to abandon her for reasons she could not understand—and nothing we said could change her mind.
Abandon her?
How could I?
I loved her with everything I was.
I would have fought bare-handed against a swarm of savage dragons before giving her up.
I didn't surrender.
Even if she could no longer see or hear me, I could still see her.
So I became a silent, loving shadow. I spent every day by her side—watching, helping, protecting her whenever I could.
But she didn't understand.
She couldn't understand…"
-----
He falls silent again, lost in his memories.
We watch him in silence as his eyes turn glassy, like still lakes.
-----
"She cried," he says softly. "So much. Too much. There came a point when I could no longer bear it. I appealed to my parents' reason. I swore I would step aside—that if they allowed us to see each other just once, to explain the truth to her, I would give up my love.
But they refused.
Worse than that… they grew even more unyielding."
-----
How unfair.
How can you tear apart two children who love each other in such a cruel way?
-----
"And then?" I ask, unable to stop myself.
Aeltiàfisar lifts his gaze to me.
It hurts to see him like this.
He is so wounded that, for a moment, I glimpse the child he was—suffering, even after thousands of years.
-----
"I only wanted to reassure her. To tell her she had done nothing wrong—that none of it was her fault.
Instead, I could do nothing… except stay near her.
And so I did.
I asked our friends to return. To not abandon her. And they agreed, giving her what looked like a return to normalcy.
When she played with them, I would sit in a tree and watch her.
When she slept, I perched outside her window and kept vigil.
Years passed.
Aer grew into a beautiful young woman, her smile radiant, her spirit bright.
Only her eyes felt out of place—shadowed by a deep sorrow that never truly faded.
Then, one day, in the woods near her home, something terrible happened…
None of us were able to help her.
The trauma was so severe that her parents, desperate to protect her, decided to move away—to another city.
There, she met two young men: Edmund and Joyce.
Joyce was gentle. Romantic. Attentive.
Edmund was his opposite—withdrawn, harsh, accustomed to getting what he wanted through force.
Both of them fell hopelessly in love with her… though she seemed to favor Joyce.
One day, weary of their closeness, Edmund decided to separate them.
He conceived a terrible plan—one he believed would solve everything:
to kill Joyce and make it look like a tragic riding accident.
Aer would suffer, of course.
And in her grief, Edmund would finally have his chance—to stay by her side, comfort her, and win her heart.
-----
"That's madness! So Aer is dead?" I burst out, horrified. What kind of person was this Edmund?
Ow.
I rub my head and glare at Dorcha. He's just flicked me sharply.
"If she were dead, how could she have given birth to Lanitae?" he points out. "Silly girl."
He has a point…
-----
"Edmund invited their friends on an outing.
The night before, he went to the stables where the horses Joyce and Aer would ride were kept. He waited until Joyce finished saddling them, then—once he saw him return home—he quickly slipped a thorn beneath one of the horse's hooves.
It was placed so that it would slowly dig into the flesh, striking a nerve and driving the animal mad with pain.
Just before dawn, Edmund hid himself and followed them from a distance.
As he had planned, the thorn drove Joyce's horse mad with pain.
But when it happened, Aer's horse panicked as well—and bolted into a wild gallop.
Joyce, an expert rider, managed to calm his mount and leap free.
Aer wasn't so lucky.
She fell.
Her head struck a broken tree trunk, one jagged branch piercing her throat like wooden claws.
My heart missed a beat.
I rushed to her side—but there was nothing I could do.
Her body was already still.
What struck me most were her eyes.
Wide open with shock and pain, reflecting a flowering branch above her.
A cruel irony, don't you think?"
-----
"So I was right…" I whisper.
I wipe my eyes, overwhelmed by a deep sadness.
I notice Dorcha looks confused. He doesn't seem to understand.
Aeltiàfisar stares into the void.
He isn't crying.
He looks focused—like a warrior before battle.
-----
"The greatest pain was not being able to hold her.
I was there beside her… untouchable.
I looked at Edmund with hatred. He had taken her from me.
Joyce was trembling.
With remarkable composure, he managed to free her neck from the trunk—but every attempt to revive her failed.
Edmund emerged from behind the trees, pretending to help.
Only when he saw Aer lying lifeless on the ground did he grasp the weight of what he had done.
He suffered.
Terribly.
Perhaps as much as—if not more than—Joyce.
But for me, it was far from enough.
I was on the verge of reducing him to dust… when something stopped me.
Broken by despair, I returned to the forest to warn the others.
My Aer… I was certain I would never see her again."
-----
He falls silent, lost in a distant, aching memory.
"And yet?" I ask.
Something must have happened—something that changed everything. Isn't that so?
He comes back to himself at my question and smiles.
I'm burning with curiosity.
-----
"And yet, something astonishing occurred.
When the others and I returned to her, the two young men were still there, crying inconsolably at her side. Since they couldn't see us, we formed a circle around her.
We wanted to pour light into her—thank her for the time we had shared, grant her a spiritual farewell.
And then… the unthinkable happened.
None of us could have imagined it.
The moment we extended our hands toward her, Aer's soul separated from her body and took on the substance of a cloud.
Moments later, she was there again—alive, standing before us."
-----
"How could that be possible, Master?" Dorcha asks.
"Do you mean she was alive in our realm, but not in the mortal one… have I understood correctly?"
Aeltiàfisar nods.
-----
"You have, Dorcha.
Aer was not dead. Her physical body was—but she had merely changed her form of energy.
In her transformation, she became an elemental spirit.
More precisely… a Cloudborn.
My brother, our friends, myself—none of us could believe it. I was so overwhelmed that I could barely think.
I kept asking myself if it was real… until she embraced me with all her strength.
The emotion was overwhelming—and we kissed.
Our first kiss.
Unforgettable.
The others longed to embrace her as well, but they were discreet. They gave us our moment.
Aer seemed distant, unaware of what had truly happened—until she looked at us… then at herself.
And she understood.
In that same instant, Joyce's sobs reached us—along with Edmund's furious cries.
We turned toward them and witnessed their savage struggle.
Overcome with remorse, Edmund had confessed.
Joyce—blinded by grief at the loss of the girl he loved—was desperate for vengeance. At any cost. Even murder.
Aer watched them, filled with compassion. She raised her hand, as if placing an invisible barrier between them—forcing them apart.
Her golden lock shimmered…
and it happened.
The moment she lowered her arm, her body vanished into nothingness, as though it had never existed at all.
In that very instant, Edmund and Joyce forgot her completely.
Unable to remember why they were even in the forest, they walked away together, chatting calmly.
I was stunned.
Such powers were rare—but she told me they cost her no effort at all.
Whatever she willed… simply happened.
You can do it too, Aileen.
-----
Really? That sounds unbelievable!
"What else?"
"So much more.
Your power, Aileen, is hers—joined with that of our son.
You only need to learn how to wield it properly, but it is very strong.
Your golden lock is its essence—just as it was for her."
He looks at me…
in a way that makes me feel powerful.
If my spiritual inheritance is truly this strong, it cannot be wasted.
I wonder if there's more…
I can't wait to hear the rest of the story.