Thalior's throne was in the centre of the tree, in the vast chamber where the light never wavered. This time, we were not alone. Elves in leaf armour lined the walls, motionless, their pale eyes fixed on us. Queen Elara sat on a living‑wood bench beside the throne – lower than the king, more serene, but with the same unblinking eyes.
Mira squeezed my hand.
"Zirinos," she whispered, "why are there so many?"
"To watch us."
"I don't like it."
"Neither do I."
Helena stood to my right, her hand on her sword. She had not drawn it – it was not necessary. The message was there: *we do not attack, but we defend ourselves.*
Thalior raised his hand. Silence fell.
"Zirinos, intruder from another world, hear the accusation." The king's voice echoed off the living‑wood walls. "You are accused of carrying corruption in your heart. Not the corruption of demons, but that of men. Lies. Deceit. Death."
"What death?" I asked.
"That of a woman. That of a baron. That of many who crossed your path."
My heart sped up. My face remained neutral.
"I killed no one who did not deserve it."
"You decide who deserves it?" Thalior tilted his head. "Are you a judge now?"
"I am a survivor. It's different."
Queen Elara touched the king's arm.
"Thalior," she said, her voice soft, "the boy is right. Survival is not justice. It is instinct."
"Instinct also corrupts."
"It corrupts. But it is not a crime."
Thalior did not answer. He just looked at me.
"Helena Helder," he called. "Step forward."
Helena advanced a step. Her golden armour shone.
"You know this man?"
"I do."
"Has he killed?"
"He has."
"Why?"
"Because he needed to. Because he was forced. Because he did not know how to do otherwise."
Thalior frowned.
"He did not know? Or he did not want to?"
"I don't know." Helena looked at me. "But he changed. Here, in the light, he changed."
"The light does not change anyone. It only reveals."
"Then it revealed that he is capable of more than killing."
The silence stretched.
Mira let go of my hand and walked toward the throne.
"Mira," I called. "Come back."
"No." She stopped in the centre of the chamber, her bare feet on the living wood. "Zirinos is my hero. He killed the bad ones. He saved me. Don't hurt him."
Thalior looked at the girl. His pale, icy eyes softened.
"Child," he said. "You do not know what he has done."
"I know he protects me." Mira raised her chin. "I know he teaches me. I know he brought me here. And that he will take me home."
"He said that?"
"He did."
"And you believe him?"
"I do." Her eyes shone. "Children believe. It's the only thing we know how to do."
Thalior fell silent. Elara touched his shoulder.
"Thalior," she said quietly, "let them go."
"The law…"
"The law allows exile. Send them back to their world. They will not return."
The king hesitated. His fingers drummed on the throne's arm.
"Exile," he said finally. "You, Helena, the child. You will return to Endomyar through an unstable portal."
"Unstable?" I asked.
"It opens when it wants. Closes when it wants. It may take you to the right place. Or it may scatter you to the four corners of the world."
"And if it separates us?"
"Then you search for each other. Or you give up. The choice is yours."
Helena tightened her hand on her sword.
"We accept," she said.
"I do not accept," I replied.
Everyone looked at me.
"You accept," Thalior ordered. "Or you will stay here forever."
"Here there is no night. No shadows. No place to hide."
"Exactly. That is why you will accept."
I clenched my fists. Mira looked at me, her eyes big, moist.
"Zirinos," she called, "let's go. Please."
I sighed.
"I accept."
---
The portal opened at the edge of the city, where the white plain met the infinite horizon. It was a rift in reality – blue edges, intense glow, a low sound, like a heartbeat far away.
Thalior stood at the line of light, arms crossed. Elara, beside him, held a glowing stone – the heart of the portal, I thought.
"Go through," the king ordered. "And do not return."
"We do not intend to," Helena replied.
Mira squeezed my hand.
"Are we going?"
"We are."
We stepped through.
The journey was short but violent. The light spun around us, blue, white, gold. The air disappeared. The ground vanished. And then, silence.
Night.
Real night, with stars and moon and shadows stretching on the stone walls of the academy.
I fell to my knees. The grass was damp. It smelled of earth, dew, life.
"Zirinos!" Mira hugged me. "Are we home?"
"We are." I stroked her hair. "We are home."
Helena looked at the sky.
"The moon," she said, her voice surprised. "I haven't seen a moon in so long."
"Do you like it?"
"I miss it. Many things."
The portal closed behind us.
---
At the edge of the forest, among the shadows of the blue pines, Alethea Emeth watched.
The elf of truth did not approach. Did not speak. She only watched, with her white, pale eyes fixed on Zirinos.
"He came back," she murmured to no one.
The wind blew. The leaves gleamed.
Alethea disappeared into the darkness.