# New File
CHAPTER 4 — TRACES BEHIND THE FOG
The rain had been falling since afternoon and showed no sign of stopping. Drops of water tapped against the window of Elvarra's room, creating a monotonous sound that should have been soothing. But that night, the rain only made it harder for her mind to rest.
She was still thinking about what Veyra had said.
Your mother died twelve years ago.
Elvarra didn't know which was harder to believe: that the woman behind the door really was her mother, or that the woman claiming to be her mother should have been dead already.
What troubled her most was Rowan's behavior.
When Elvarra asked who had died twelve years ago, her father gave her no answer. He only looked at her with an expression she had never seen before, then told her to go to sleep.
As if sleep could make the question disappear.
When in fact, it only raised more questions.
Elvarra rose from the bed and walked toward the mirror. The face staring back at her looked the same as always. Shoulder-length dark hair, gray eyes, and the small scar near her left eyebrow that she had had since childhood.
She touched the scar.
Suddenly, her head began to throb.
An image flashed before her.
Fire.
Someone screaming.
A woman's hand clutching hers.
Then a voice right beside her ear.
"Don't look back, Elvarra."
Elvarra jerked and stumbled back from the mirror.
Her breathing quickened.
The image vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
She stared at her own reflection.
"Who are you?"
The question sounded ridiculous. She knew she was Elvarra.
At least, she had believed that until now.
A knock sounded at the door.
Elvarra turned immediately.
"Who is it?"
"It's me."
Rowan.
Elvarra opened the door a crack. Rowan stood outside in dark clothes and a long coat. He held a small lantern in one hand.
"You haven't gone to sleep?"
"Not yet."
Rowan studied her face. "Are you all right?"
"Good question."
Rowan sighed. "Elvarra..."
"You still haven't answered my question."
"I know."
"Who died twelve years ago?"
Rowan stared at her for a long moment.
Then he said, "We're leaving tomorrow morning."
Elvarra furrowed her brow. "Where?"
"To the city."
"That isn't what I asked."
"I know."
"So you're deliberately avoiding the question?"
"This time, yes."
Elvarra almost smiled in exasperation. "At least you're being honest."
Rowan didn't return her smile.
"We can't be late tomorrow."
"Why?"
"We have to meet someone."
"Who?"
"Someone who might be able to explain everything."
Elvarra eyed her father suspiciously. "And can I ask who that someone is?"
Rowan nodded.
"His name is Kaelith."
The name sounded unfamiliar.
And yet, strangely, when Rowan spoke it, the mark in Elvarra's palm began to burn again.
She quickly hid her hand.
Rowan noticed.
"Did you feel something?"
"No."
"Elvarra."
"I'm just tired."
Rowan didn't look convinced, but he didn't press her.
"Tomorrow morning. Before sunrise."
After Rowan left, Elvarra closed the door.
Kaelith.
She didn't know who that man was.
Yet for some reason, the name made something inside her feel uneasy.
They left before the sun rose.
The rain had stopped, but the road to the city was still wet and shrouded in fog. Rowan walked ahead at a brisk pace. Elvarra followed, keeping her eyes on the forest they passed through.
The journey to the city usually took about an hour.
But that morning, Rowan took a different route.
"Father," Elvarra said after a while, "we don't usually come this way."
"I know."
"Why not?"
"The main road isn't safe right now."
"Since when?"
"Since last night."
Elvarra stared at his back.
"You know something."
"I always know a lot of things."
"And you're always irritating when someone asks."
Rowan gave a quiet chuckle.
"At least you're starting to look like your mother."
Elvarra stopped.
Rowan stopped too.
They stared at each other.
At last, Elvarra said, "What did you just say?"
Rowan looked regretful.
"I said you're starting to look like your mother."
"This is the first time you've ever talked about her."
Rowan looked away.
"What's her name?"
"Elara."
Elvarra repeated the name silently.
Elara.
A simple name.
Yet when she heard it, her head began to ache again.
Another image appeared.
A woman standing in the rain.
Her hair was wet.
Her hands held Elvarra's face when she was still a child.
"If they ever ask who your mother is, don't say my name."
Elvarra jerked.
"Father!"
Rowan hurried toward her. "What happened?"
"I... I remembered something."
"Don't force it."
"About Mother."
Rowan's expression changed.
"What did you see?"
"She..."
Elvarra closed her eyes.
"She said I mustn't say her name."
Rowan went pale.
"Elvarra, we have to go."
"Why?"
"Because someone knows we're here."
The sound of a branch snapping came from behind the trees.
Rowan immediately pulled Elvarra behind him.
"Father?"
"Quiet."
The fog between the trees shifted.
Someone was walking there.
Not one person.
Two.
Three.
Elvarra couldn't make out their faces clearly.
Rowan pulled something from beneath his coat: a short dagger with strange carvings on the hilt.
Elvarra stared at it.
"You brought a weapon?"
"I should have from the beginning."
One of the figures behind the fog stopped.
Then a man's voice rang out.
"Rowan."
Rowan tightened his grip on the dagger.
"Don't come any closer."
The man gave a quiet laugh.
"You still like giving orders."
"And you still like showing up late."
The figure stepped out of the fog.
A tall man in a black coat stood several yards in front of them. His dark hair was slightly disheveled from the rain. A thin, curved-line scar marked the side of his neck.
His gaze went straight to Elvarra.
Not Rowan.
Elvarra.
For a long moment.
As if he were making sure of something.
"So," he said quietly, "she's finally awake."
Elvarra felt the palm of her hand grow hot.
Rowan immediately stepped in front of his daughter.
"Don't look at him."
Elvarra looked at Rowan in confusion.
"Why?"
The man smiled.
"Because if she looks at me, she might remember something even you have forgotten."
Elvarra stared at him.
"Who are you?"
The man didn't answer right away.
Instead, he looked at Rowan.
"You never told her?"
"This is none of your business."
"Quite the opposite."
The man's gaze returned to Elvarra.
"My name is Kaelith."
Elvarra felt something tremble inside her.
Not fear.
Nor was it a sense of unfamiliarity.
Something much stranger.
Recognition.
As if some part of her had known that name long before this morning.
Kaelith stepped forward.
Rowan raised the dagger.
"Stop."
Kaelith stopped.
"All right."
He raised both hands.
"I'm not here to fight her."
"Then why are you here?"
Kaelith looked at Elvarra.
"To make sure she's still alive."
Elvarra stared at him.
"Why?"
Kaelith gave a faint smile.
"Because twelve years ago, I saw for myself how she was supposed to die."
The world seemed to stop.
Rowan closed his eyes.
Elvarra stared at Kaelith, her face pale.
"What do you mean?"
Kaelith didn't answer.
He only said,
"If you really want to know who you are, Elvarra, don't go to the city."
He turned toward the forest behind them.
"Go north."
Elvarra furrowed her brow.
"Where?"
Kaelith looked at her one last time.
"Follow the trail that wasn't made by human hands."
Then he turned and disappeared into the fog with the other two figures.
Elvarra remained frozen in place.
"He's lying, right?"
Rowan didn't answer.
"Father."
Still, silence.
"Kaelith said I was supposed to die twelve years ago."
Rowan lowered the dagger.
"Don't believe everything he says."
Elvarra looked at her father.
"But you didn't say he was lying."
At last, Rowan looked at her.
And for the first time, Elvarra saw something that made her chest feel hollow.
Regret.
Rowan lowered his gaze to the ground.
Among the wet grass were footprints.
Not Kaelith's.
Nor those of the people who had accompanied him.
The footprints were small.
Like the footprints of a child.
But what sent a chill through Elvarra was the direction they led.
The trail had come from the north.
And stopped right in front of them.
As if someone had been waiting for Elvarra since before she was born.
To be continued in Chapter 5....