The envoy returned far sooner than expected.
Salek dismounted, face pale but composed. "Captain Evan. We've returned."
Evan raised an eyebrow. "Already? You made it to Clares and back in four days?"
"Yes, sir," Salek said. "We were met at the border. Elven officials reviewed our request and gave us this."
He handed over a sealed scroll, bearing the mark of Clares—a silver crest etched with flowing script.
"They approved our investigation," he continued. "Said we may proceed."
Yvette narrowed her eyes. "Just like that? No questions? No screening?"
Salek hesitated. "It was… streamlined. Felt rehearsed."
Ourri muttered, "Even flying beasts couldn't have made that round trip this fast."
"It felt like they were waiting for us," Salek admitted. "Everything looked official—but it felt... off."
Runa spoke quietly. "Like a performance."
Evan turned the scroll over in his hand. The seal was right. The script perfect. But still… something clawed at his instinct.
"…We move forward," he finally said.
Three days into Elven territory, the forest changed.
The trees grew blackened, burned from inside out. Stones shimmered faintly with arcane residue. A shattered carriage wheel jutted from the soil. But there were no bodies. No animals. Just scorched silence.
"A battle," Yvette said, crouching. "But where are the dead?"
"A ghost skirmish," Ourri said grimly. "Magic wiped the evidence."
"Or it was never real," Runa added. "Just another illusion."
Then came the cry: "Captain! Carriage wreckage!"
They rushed ahead.
A twisted royal carriage lay among the trees, scorched but unmistakable. The Clares crest still clung to its warped door.
"The one we escorted," Yvette breathed.
Evan's heart dropped. "Search for survivors—now!"
But before they could move, the trees erupted.
Elven soldiers stepped from the mist—hundreds, silent and poised. Blades drawn. Bows raised.
"STOP!" a voice thundered. A commander in dark armor stepped forward, fury burning in his eyes.
"There is no permit. You trespass. You desecrate royal ground."
Evan held up the scroll. "We have a signed order—"
The elf tore it from Salek's hands, scanned it, and sneered. "A forgery."
"That's impossible!" Evan said. "We came through the official process—ask your council!"
"You will answer for the disappearance of Princess Lilia!" the elf roared.
Behind Evan, weapons were drawn.
"Captain," Yvette whispered. "Say the word."
They could fight. They might win. But if they did—peace would die here.
He stepped forward. "WE COMPLY! What are your demands?!"
"Detainment. All of you."
"Take me," Evan said. "Let my team return to the fort to report."
A younger elf stepped forward, amused. "Very noble."
He turned to the commander. "Let him come. Search the rest."
Yvette hissed under her breath. "This is too smooth. It's another setup."
"I know," Evan said quietly. "Trust me."
Yvette's voice wavered. "If they lay a hand on you—"
"I trust you," Evan said. "Get the truth out."
Chains closed around his wrists.
As the soldiers led him away, Evan didn't look back. His face was calm—resolute.
"Yvette," he said over his shoulder. "Tell Dyeva. This isn't over."
Yvette grabbed Salek by the collar the moment the Elves vanished beyond the treeline.
"You better start talking," she growled.
"I—I swear! We went to Clares—at least… we thought we did," Salek stammered. "We crossed the Elven border, and their officials were already waiting for us. They guided us through a glade, then into a small court chamber built near the ridge. Everything looked legitimate—decorations, uniforms, manner of speech…"
"And it never occurred to you how damn easy that was?" Yvette barked. "No checkpoints? No noble escorts? No scrutiny?"
Salek's hands trembled. "It felt… rehearsed. But we were waved through. Treated like honored guests. The scroll they gave us—it looked flawless. It even passed two enchantment checks…"
"It was flawless," Runa said softly.
The others turned to her. She stood near the edge of the clearing, arms hugging her robe tightly.
"Everything matched. The script. The colors. Even the aura signature. But it was too perfect," she continued. "No mistakes. No waiting. No bureaucratic delay. That's not how real diplomacy works."
Salek's voice cracked. "You think we… never actually reached Clares?"
"I think," Runa said, her voice firm for once, "that you were shown a copy of Clares. A replica crafted through illusion magic so intricate, so layered, that not even trained scouts could tell."
Yvette cursed under her breath. "That damned illusionist."
Ourri folded his arms. "They set us up. They faked an invitation, faked permission, and timed it all so we'd stumble right into their trap."
"They took Evan because of it," Yvette muttered. "Now the Elves think we're liars. Worse—traitors."
No one spoke for a long moment. Only the breeze whispered across the lake, brushing the tall reeds along the water's edge.
Then Runa turned her gaze north—toward the forest, toward Clares.
Her hands tightened around her robe.
"Evan…" she whispered. "Please hang on."
And with heavy steps and heavier hearts, the remaining Golden Sun team began their march back to Kubu Fort.