Max followed her gaze and looked back at the statue—at the forehead of his mother's statue. And there it was, just like she said. A bright emerald, shaped like a perfect pentagon, shimmered faintly under the sunlight pouring through the dome. It looked almost alive, pulsing gently as if waiting.
"That emerald," Lenavira continued, "is said to hold the power of a divine spark. It's the symbol of our royal bloodline, and it represents the life and prosperity of the entire kingdom. But…" she paused with a quiet sigh, "it doesn't respond to elves. No matter how many of us try, nothing ever happens."
She looked at Max more seriously now. "Last time, your sister—Freya—persuaded me that she could bring life back to our kingdom. I didn't believe her at all. I mean… how could a human do what even the purest elves had failed to do in our own land?" Her voice dropped a little, filled with memory.
