The path between the elf houses stretched before them, dimly lit by lanterns swaying gently in the night breeze. Most windows were dark, a few still flickering with fading warmth. The usual hum of voices, laughter, and music from the celebration had vanished entirely. Even the scattered elves they passed moved quietly, preoccupied, as if avoiding notice.
A pair of elves standing beneath a dim lantern fell silent as Zave and the others passed, their conversation dying mid-sentence. One of them cast a brief glance over his shoulder before turning away completely, as though even looking too long might draw unwanted attention. Doors that had been left slightly ajar were now shut more firmly, and the faint glow beneath them dimmed as figures moved further inside. It wasn't fear, not exactly, but something close to it—an awareness that something in the night had shifted, and no one wanted to be caught too near its center.
