Adventures of Sava

The healer guides Sava back against the pillows and checks her pulse, while the High Chancellor remains beside the bed. Lady Seraphine and Elira stay close, watching the unopened records.

He places a small copper bowl on the table. A pale ember gathers above his palm, steady and harmless, then folds inward until it vanishes without smoke.

The split-flame records remain sealed beside the bed. Beyond the chamber, guarded corridors stay quiet, leaving Sava time to answer while the lesson waits in the Chancellor's patient hand.

Lady Seraphine brings the sealed ledgers from the bedside table and opens them across a cushioned board. Sava studies every entry naming watchers beyond Sav Nightshade.

Sava borrows the copper bowl from the table and raises her hand above it. A small spark gathers, holds its boundary, and settles harmlessly into the bronze without smoke.

Sava puffs her cheeks, obeys the healer, and settles back onto the bed. Her legs remain weak beneath the blankets as she turns away in frustrated defeat.

She exposes the scar at her nape, the werewolf bite pale against her skin. Tears gather and roll as the memory of that night returns.

The High Chancellor sits beside her bed instead of reaching for the binding. He rests one steady hand near her shoulder, offering presence without taking control.

Sava turns toward the High Chancellor, tears staining her face as her head rests against the pillow. The room remains quiet around her exposed scar.

He lifts the lantern seal from the table and places it beside the copper bowl, its split-flame mark turned toward Sava.

Sava smiles at the High Chancellor and Lady Seraphine, then wipes the tears from her face. Her promise settles quietly over the room.

The effort drains what strength remains in Sava. She lowers her head onto the pillow, her breathing slowing as her eyes close.

The High Chancellor turns the split-flame seal inward and remains watchful beside the bed. Seraphine keeps the ledgers closed while Sava sleeps beneath the quiet guard.

A month and a half of rehabilitation has restored strength to Sava’s legs. An attendant brings a borrowed, light wood-elf sparring tunic, and she changes before entering the guarded court.

The High Chancellor’s adult guards form a measured circle, wooden practice blades in hand. Sava’s white hair is tied back, her bright eyes fixed on their footwork as Elder Wood awaits beyond this training.

The first guard advances. Sava slips aside, redirects his wooden blade, and counters cleanly. The second presses from her flank, forcing her to pivot, duck, and answer with a sharp disarming strike.

Her final exchange succeeds, but a hurried recovery costs her: the guard’s practice blade clips her ribs, leaving a deepening bruise beneath the tunic and stealing one breath.

The guards lower their weapons and step back. Sava remains upright, bruised but steady, while travel packs and Elder Wood maps wait beneath the court’s covered gallery.

In the dressing room, Sava cools her bruised left ribs with a damp towel and studies the purple mark in the mirror. Touching it draws a sharp wince.

The door opens. Sava quickly covers herself with her arms and turns, finding one of the sparring guards at the threshold. He immediately faces the wall.

Sava finishes dressing, tucking the borrowed sparring tunic into her belt. The guard keeps his back turned, leaving her the privacy he promised.

The sparring guard turns only after hearing her permission. Sava stands in the borrowed tunic with one hand on her hip, her posture steadier despite the bruise beneath the cloth.

He studies her face rather than the bruise, recognizing the seriousness beneath her request. His earlier embarrassment has become disciplined attention.

Sava retrieves her bow, training arrows, and paired training daggers from the rack. She pats the sparring guard’s shoulder, then settles into the court’s ready space.

Her mischievous smirk answers the guard’s formal concern. The surrounding soldiers widen the circle, lowering their practice blades as Sava tests the balance of her training weapons.

He advances with a controlled feint. Sava slips inside it, catches his wooden blade between her training daggers, and twists cleanly until he yields the exchange.

Sava removes her boots, fastens the shin guards, and steps barefoot onto the court stones. She raises her training daggers as the sparring guard advances.

His wooden blade cuts toward her ribs. Sava twists away without touching the bruised side, her bare feet gliding over the dust as the strike passes harmlessly.

She folds beneath his follow-up, pivots around his shoulder, and slips beyond his reach in a flowing sequence of dodges, each movement precise, swift, and controlled.

The High Chancellor watches from the gallery as Sava turns the exchange into a deadly dance, her footwork recalling the sudden angles of bow and arrow.

Sava finishes behind the guard’s shoulder, training dagger poised at his back while her other hand remains ready to redirect his wooden blade. The court falls silent.

Sava Nightshade leaves Guarded training court behind and arrives at Elder Wood.

Elder Wood rises around the road in towering silver-barked trees, their leaves whispering above mossy stones. The wagons roll into a guarded clearing marked with old elven boundary carvings.

Sava gathers her belongings with swift precision, checking her bow, training daggers, supplies, and the sealed records before stepping onto the forest path.

The guards tighten formation around the wagons. Beyond them, a line of pale arrows appears on three tree trunks, freshly carved into the bark and pointing deeper into the wood.

From the mist between the trees comes a single clear horn call. The wagons fall silent, and every escort turns toward the unseen elven presence beyond the boundary.

Sava leads the caravan beneath Elder Wood’s silver canopy, warning the wagons that unseen wood elves track every turn. Pale eyes flicker between the trunks, never approaching.

After a long ascent, the road ends before massive ironwood gates banded in dark metal. A wood elf captain, a stern adult man with copper-brown skin, braided white hair, and green scale armor, steps out with two adult elf guards.

The captain studies Sava in silence, then looks over the Chancellor’s wagon, the Valehart escort, and the sealed records. His guarded expression shifts toward recognition.

The gatekeeper turns the ancient mechanism. Ironwood groans apart, revealing a broad road descending into Elder Wood’s sacred city as the guards signal the caravan forward.

The wood elf gate captain pulls Sava aside beneath the ironwood arch and studies the pale bite scar at her nape. The escorts fall silent, watching.

Sava tilts her neck in compliance. The captain draws a silver seal across the scar, and burning pain flashes through her skin as the mark closes with pale light.

Sava holds steady through the searing sensation. The completed seal settles cool against her nape, and the captain steps back as the ironwood gates open fully.

Sava Nightshade stands beneath the arch, though the seal leaves her composure worn thin and her breath carefully measured. The sparring guard watches her with open concern.

The wood elf gate captain leads the caravan through Elder Wood. Guards escort Sava, the Chancellor, and the Valeharts along a rising avenue into a castle grown from an immense silver-barked tree.

Inside the throne room, living roots form pillars beneath a vaulted canopy. The king, an elderly wood elf man with silver hair and a carved antler crown, sits beside the queen, an elderly wood elf woman with a dignified, broad-shouldered bearing and a calm, lined face, an elderly wood elf woman in deep green robes with white braids.

Sava kneels before the King and Queen beneath the living roots, keeping her sealed nape turned away from the court as the gathered delegation watches.

The High Chancellor rises sharply, while Lady Seraphine and the Valeharts exchange alarm. Their concern turns toward Sava’s health as the court recognizes the danger of reopening so many memories.

The gate the wood elf gate captain presses two fingers above the silver seal and speaks an ancient word. Pale light spreads through the throne room as Sava’s memories open before the court, beginning with her father’s abandonment and carrying forward through the forest, the pack, the conspiracies, and the alliance.

The silver seal at Sava’s nape flares, but her eyes turn completely silver-white. The truth-binding expands through the throne room, opening every memory she offers to the court.

They witness her abandonment, the werewolf attack, and a distant, blood-clotted scream from the young Sava. The vision moves through the marsh ambush, the wolf pack, and the mill’s hidden beast marked with a forest.

The memories continue through the Valehart manor’s destruction, the Chancellor’s compromised network, and the revelation that Sav Nightshade was involved with the Split-Flame. No detail remains concealed.

The visions vanish. Sava’s eyes return to normal, and she collapses to her knees, gasping as the spell leaves her mentally exhausted beneath the living roots.

Her eyes close, and she falls unconscious. The High Chancellor steps forward, but the Queen raises a hand as the court absorbs the full weight of what Sava revealed.

The Guard Captain catches Sava before she can slump fully, lowering her carefully onto the throne-room steps. Her breathing turns shallow, and the silver seal at her nape dims.

The sparring guard kneels beside Sava, supporting her shoulders without touching the bruised ribs. He keeps his face turned toward hers, alert for any sign of waking.

The King and Queen continue questioning the Chancellor, Seraphine, and the Valehart delegation while servants draw screens around Sava. The royal infirmary is brought to her instead.

The Guard Captain remains at Sava’s side as the court reorganizes around her unconscious form. The planned escort has failed, but no one can move her until her breathing steadies.

Two royal healers, adult wood elf women in white-green robes, hurry into the throne room with a medicine satchel and a broad carrying litter. One has silver braids; the other wears a red leaf clasp.

The healers administer a bitter restorative, then lift Sava with cautious coordination. The sparring guard supports her shoulders while the captain guides the litter through the cleared court.

The carry succeeds, but the effort leaves Sava’s body strained. Her breath catches, her arms sag heavily against the cushions, and a tremor passes through her exhausted legs.

They carry Sava into the royal infirmary and lower her onto a clean bed beneath hanging herbs. Medicine, water, and fresh linens wait within reach as the doors close against the crowded throne room.

The High Chancellor, Lord Valehart, and Lady Seraphine withdraw from the infirmary. The healers draw a screen around Sava, replace her gear with a loose infirmary gown, and settle her beneath clean blankets.

In the throne room, the High Chancellor retrieves the ledgers previously gathered from the ruined mill and recovered manor. Lord Valehart adds the Valehart signet, route papers, and sealed records to the display.

The King and Queen examine each item while the Chancellor answers plainly. Their guarded attention shifts into grave acceptance as the evidence confirms Sava’s account before the court.

Lady Seraphine steps forward while the royal healers remain behind their screen with Sava. She faces the King and Queen, keeping her voice calm but insistent.

The King’s fingers tighten around the carved arm of his throne. The Queen studies the sealed records, then exchanges a grave glance with him.

The King raises his hand, and royal guards leave the throne room under orders to summon every surviving Nightshade relative immediately. Refusal will mean imprisonment or death for aiding a murderer and spy.

By dusk, three adult wood elves arrive under escort: a gray-haired woman in brown, a wary middle-aged man with a shaved temple, and a young adult woman clutching a green cloak.

Behind the infirmary screen, Sava remains unconscious beneath clean blankets. Lady Seraphine takes her place before the relatives, while the Queen seals the doors and guards block every exit.

Their testimony is secured, but the cost becomes plain: the Nightshade survivors will remain confined under guard until their answers are verified, and Seraphine now owes the King a public accounting of every alliance claim.

The King places a royal memory crystal in its carved stand. Light blooms across the throne room, projecting Sava's viewpoint without placing the crystal in her reach.

The court sees Sav wrench a young Sava from his horse and flee. His accomplice changes into a werewolf, and the memory cuts through the attack in a burst of terror and darkness.

The projection fractures before revealing the accomplice's face. The failure leaves the relatives room to deny responsibility, but it exposes a silver horse tack bearing a Nightshade crescent.

Lady Seraphine crosses the space in two furious strides and slaps the young Nightshade woman. The crack echoes beneath the throne room’s living roots.

The royal memory crystal flares again, showing only a terrified child calling for her parents before the vision breaks into darkness and muffled struggle. The court recoils from the remembered suffering.

Sava wakes behind the infirmary screen and forces herself upright. Barefoot in her robe, she staggers into the throne room as the royal healers urgently reach for her.

Her weak shout silences the court. Ignoring the healers’ pleas to return, Sava crosses the living roots on trembling legs and reaches the remaining Nightshade relatives.

Her knees strike the floor. She folds there, crying hard, the sound echoing beneath the roots like the terrified child preserved in the crystal’s broken memory.

Sava’s tearful plea hangs beneath the living roots. The young Nightshade woman kneels before her, while the gray-haired woman lowers her head in shame.

The King gestures to the royal guards, adult wood elf soldiers in dark green scale armor and brown leather belts, who begin recording the names and route. The Queen orders a search party prepared under royal authority.

Sava’s voice trembles beneath the living roots. The royal healers reach her as she sways, ready to guide her away from the court.

The cost of the permission settles plainly: the clan house will shelter Sava, but royal guards will watch its doors and preserve every family record for judgment.

The royal healers support Sava toward the infirmary passage as orders spread through the court. Behind her, guards organize around the Nightshade house and the allied delegations prepare to follow.

Several days later, dawn spills through the carved window of Sava’s old room. Elder Wood’s silver canopy and distant lakes shimmer beneath a cool, fragrant breeze.

Sava wakes in her late mother’s simple wood-elf nightgown and eases back against the pillows. The room is quiet, familiar, and untouched by immediate danger.

Lady Seraphine enters carrying a folded report packet. She smiles at Sava’s greeting, then sets the papers on the bedside table without disturbing her rest.

Sava warmly smiles at Lady Seraphine, then looks through the carved window from her bed. The cool breeze stirs the curtains while she remains carefully supported by the pillows.

Seraphine opens the report packet and reveals a fresh note from the western approaches: Garric and the Alpha have found an old ash-road marker bearing Sav Nightshade’s crescent.

The door opens hurriedly, and Elira, a worried young adult wood elf woman in a casual russet dress, rushes into the room. Her loose brown hair swings as she crosses to Sava’s bedside.

Elira immediately lifts her hand from Sava’s left side. Sava’s smile remains gentle, though a sharp wince briefly tightens her face where the healing bruise was pressed.

Elira sits carefully on the bedside, keeping both hands in her lap now. Her worried gaze searches Sava’s face, while Seraphine quietly closes the report packet beside them.

Sava explains the tower, the binding, and the long recovery that followed. She tells Elira how the spell forced open her memories, then left her unconscious for months while healers watched.

Elira absorbs the account with trembling hands folded tightly in her lap. Relief reaches her face, but hurt remains, sharpening the silence between mother and daughter.

Elira’s hurt softens into grief. She reaches toward Sava, then stops short of the bruised ribs and rests her hand carefully on the blanket instead.

Beyond the carved window, a horn sounds from the palace road. Seraphine turns toward it as a royal messenger approaches the clan house with a sealed report from the King’s search party.

The door opens, and a young adult wood elf man enters in a rain-dark green cloak. A silver royal clasp fastens his collar, and a sealed packet rests in his gloved hand.

He crosses to Sava’s bedside and places the report and a separate folded letter within her reach. The royal seal is unbroken, its green wax impressed with the King’s antler crown.

Sava receives both documents. The report names the search captains and route, while the letter bears a second mark: the Nightshade crescent crossed by a rider’s spur.

Sava loosens her white ponytail and hands the hair tie to the royal messenger. From a small travel purse beside the bed, she counts out ten gold coins.

The messenger accepts the coins and hair tie, then departs with the royal report secured beneath his cloak. Sava borrows a small mail opener from the writing stand.

Seraphine takes the royal report and leaves to find Lord Valehart and the Chancellor. Sava opens the Nightshade letter, its old ink requiring slow reading and repeated checking.

The letter identifies Taren Voss as Sav Nightshade’s former household rider and confirms the old ash watchtower as their refuge. A rain-blurred line leaves the exact departure date uncertain.

A few days later, Sava kneels before the King and Queen beneath Elder Wood’s living roots. The Nightshade letter rests in her hand, its warning carried into court.

Sava bows her head, pledging loyalty to Elder Wood. The court falls quiet, weighing her offer against the danger beyond the western border.

Sava approaches the captain without hesitation and bares the sealed scar at her nape. He traces a second rune over the silver mark, refining it so the curse remains contained while the seal can open only under grave danger.

Caelen, Maelis, and Sava pack water, blankets, provisions, bows, and royal papers. Sava moves with recovered confidence, securing the bundles so neatly that the journey loses precious minutes to no repeated checks.

They leave through the western gate beneath silver leaves. Caelen leads toward the old border road, Maelis follows with the Nightshade letter, and Sava keeps the watchtower’s unseen refuge at the center of every stride.

The storm breaks against the massive tree’s crown while Sava, Caelen, and Maelis shelter among its roots. By midnight, their bedrolls lie dry beneath the hollowed trunk.

The inspection finds no immediate danger. Later, Maelis quietly hugs Sava from behind and admits the wild frightens her after a lifetime of office work. Sava reassures her, and Maelis settles back to sleep.

Caelen lowers his practice blade and squares his stance. Sava enters the storm-wet clearing with him, and their spar begins beneath the sheltering branches.

His first controlled strike tests her balance. Sava slips inside it, redirects the wooden blade, and lands a clean training touch against his shoulder before stepping back into guard.

Sava Nightshade leaves Hollowed tree refuge behind and arrives at old ash watchtower.

Morning mist drifts from the old ash watchtower, a squat stone keep wrapped in ivy and silver moss. Its upper windows are dark, while fresh mud marks circle the sealed entrance.

Sava and Caelen comb the outer wall and lower chambers. Their search reveals no lurking guard, but it uncovers old arrow slits, a rusted armory niche, and a crescent scratched beneath the stair.

Maelis’s spell leaves pale green threads suspended through the tower, outlining hidden seams in the stone. One line converges beneath a warped plank near the central stair.

The warped plank gives way beneath Sava’s searching hand, revealing an iron ring and a narrow trap door. Cold air rises from below, carrying ash, old water, and the faint scent of sealed parchment.

Sava, Maelis, and Caelen drop into the chamber. Maelis’s light spell washes over shelves, chains, and a male wood elf corpse hanging motionless from an old beam.

Maelis screams and falls backward. Caelen catches her down safely, then steadies her while Sava approaches the corpse and searches its dried clothing and nearby stones.

Behind a cracked belt pouch, Sava finds a folded manifesto sealed in black wax. The writing identifies Taren Voss, a gaunt adult wood elf man with an angular, desiccated face, long matted brown hair, and tattered dark travel clothes and lays out Sav Nightshade’s connection to the Split-Flame necromancers.

Sava reads that Taren attacked and cursed her as a child, then ended his own life from guilt. She hands the manifesto to Caelen and Maelis, cursing her father for joining necromancy.