The soil in Stonemere was darker near the orchard, where the frost had melted early and the roots drank deep.

Elara crouched low, fingers dusted with earth. Her tunic bunched at her knees as she cleared the wild ivy that had crept over the garden beds in her absence. Not all things waited politely.

Behind her, Leor picked at a cluster of windfallen pears with wary focus of a boy watching a storm cloud- distant, but familiar.

Branwyn had left for the village before sunrise, leaving no note, only a mug beside the stove and a single apple cut in half.

Elara wasn’t sure if the silence was an invitation or a boundary.

Maybe both.

She glanced over her shoulder. “You don’t have to stay out here with me, you know.”

Leor shrugged, not looking up. “I’m not.”

She smiled despite herself. It was a quiet rebellion, this boy of sun and shadow. He had Branwyn’s stillness, but none of his certainty.

“I know things changed,” she said softly, turning back to the soil. “I don’t expect you to pretend they didn’t.”

Leor was quiet for a long while. Then: “You smell like fire again.”

She blinked. “Fire?”

He finally looked up. “Like someone who walked through it. You didn’t smell like that before. Not the last time.”

The words caught in her throat. “I think… I burned for awhile.”

“Did it hurt?”

She looked down at her hands. “Yes. But I think I needed it to.”

Leor didn’t answer right away. Then he rose, stepping across the uneven stone and into the garden with her. He didn’t touch her- but he stood close enough for the air to shift.

And when it did.. the wind stirred.

A flicker of movement passed through the orchard- so light it might have been a trick of sunlight or a stray wisp of fog. But Elara felt it. The way the breath of the world paused, like something unseen was listening.

A soft giggle floated on the breeze.

Leor turned sharply. “Did you hear that?”

The leaves danced again- this time not just a scatter, but a whirl of silver threads weaving between the branches.

From within the shimmer, a small, winged figure emerged.

Tiny, barely larger than a robin, with translucent wings like petals caught in wind. Its form glowed faintly- blue and white, with trailing wisps like morning mist. It didn’t speak, but it hovered just beyond Leor’s reach, curious and unafraid.

Elara knelt slowly, not wanting to scare it. “An air sprite,” she whispered. “I haven’t seen one since before the veil broke.”

The sprite flitted in a loop, then twirled upward and came to rest on a curling vine. It cocked its head at Leor, who stared like he’d just uncovered a secret meant only for him.

“Why is it here?” he asked.

Elara didn’t answer right away. Her hand rested in the soil, steady now.

“Maybe… it came for the part of you that still believes.”

Leor tilted his head, mirroring the sprite. Then, ever so gently, he extended one hand toward it.

The sprite didn’t land.

But it drifted closer, close enough that its wings stirred a strand of hair near his cheek- and then, with a flicker of joy, it vanished into the morning light.

They stood there for a moment longer in silence.

And for the first time since her return, Elara felt something like laughter echo in the bones of the orchard.

Not loud. Not triumphant.

Just a little flame catching in the ash.