The palace walls of Alzharan gleamed like sun-bleached ivory, carved with spiraling glyphs and ancient battle murals. Shade-casting sails billowed over the entrance court, their fabric painted with blue lotus sigils — the royal mark of the Elven High House.

  Rell stepped onto polished white stone and immediately missed the dirt.

  [Rell’s Thought]

  “This place is way too clean. All fake. Perfume and metal. Nothing real.”

  They had been escorted into the Grand Receiving Hall. It was massive — wide enough to host a skyrider landing, its walls lined with bronze statues of long-dead kings. The children had been led off gently but firmly, and the guards now stood like statues between Rell and the throne at the far end.

  That throne held High Regent Valys Rhendaar, acting ruler of Alzharan — an elf draped in flowing turquoise robes, his face sharp and unreadable, fingers adorned with diplomatic rings that glittered as he folded them.

  To his left, a younger elf with darker robes scribbled into a sand-crystal tablet.

  “You are… the ones who brought our children home?” Valys asked calmly, voice smooth but cool.

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  Thessia stepped forward first, bowing slightly.

  “We found them being trafficked through a church-run slave route. We stopped it, saved them, and brought them here.”

  “And how did the church come to possess them so freely?”

  Thessia hesitated. Neyxa’s gaze narrowed.

  Rell crossed his arms.

  “Ask them. Church ran it. We stopped it. Now we the problem?”

  The scribe blinked.

  “That tongue…?”

  Valys waved him off.

  “A broken dialect — jungle-speak. But I understand the tone.”

  “Good,” Rell said. “Tone’s what matter.”

  The Regent leaned back.

  “What matters is this: those children were not simply ‘runaways.’ Many were hostages. Bound by treaty to the human dominion of Ishgar. Their loss caused political tension. Their return without formal council threatens worse.”

  Thessia’s jaw tightened.

  “You’re saying we made things worse? By saving them?”

  “I’m saying…” Valys exhaled slowly, “you’ve introduced chaos to balance. And balance in the desert is sacred.”

  Rell’s eyes narrowed.

  [Rell’s Thought]

  “Sacred? They really think trafficking kids is sacred? These people are sick.”

  Neyxa stepped forward.

  “Then what exactly do you intend to do with us?”

  There was a pause.

  Then Valys smiled — a diplomat’s smile.

  “For now… you rest. The city will host you while we consult our council. You will be escorted to neutral quarters. The children will remain under protective watch. That is all.”

  Two guards approached. Rell’s hand twitched.

  Thessia spoke low.

  “Play nice. For now.”

  He grunted but didn’t move.

  Hours later, they were deposited in a side manor — grand by surface standards, with sandstone columns and shaded pools, but completely guarded. Not a prison, but not free.

  Ko Mala sat in the courtyard, eating fruit with two kids.

  Rell stared at the wall, arms folded.

  “They smile like cats,” he muttered. “Like they already won.”

  “They think they have,” Neyxa said, joining him. “That’s how politics works. Fake smiles, real knives.”

  Thessia stepped out last, cloak loose around her shoulders.

  “We’ll figure this out.”

  Rell looked at her, then Neyxa.

  [Rell’s Thought]

  “I hope they’re right. Because next time, I’m done playing nice.”