The cheering filled the wedding hall, but Ember watched his father. Faelynn stood by the door, jaw tight, eyes fixed on the windows. Ember had never seen that look on the man who had walked Ana down the aisle without fear. Ana squeezed his hand. He kissed her cheek, then pushed through the crowd toward Faelynn. Whatever waited outside had stolen his father's joy on the one day it should have been easy. "What is it?" Ember asked. Faelynn didn't answer. He looked past the glass flowers to the porch beyond the windows. Two figures stood out in the cold. Elders. Elves, both with white hair and pink eyes. Dread hung on their faces, plain even at a distance. The old man raised a hand to knock, then lowered it. The woman touched his arm. "You know them," Ember said. It wasn't a question. "No," Faelynn said. "But I've seen them. At the fence. Watching. Since the fittings." His voice stayed flat. "They never came close. Now they have." Ember's chest went hard. Watchers meant trouble. He crossed the room and pulled the door open himself. Cold air rushed in. The two elders flinched back, as if caught. Up close, Ember saw their runes—faint pink marks on their skin, the same shape that curled up Ana's arms. The same shape inked on his own. His breath left him. He turned and shouted back into the hall. "DAD!" Faelynn was already moving. He reached the door in three steps and stood at Ember's shoulder, blocking the wind with his body. He looked at the elders. He did not scowl. He waited. "We mean no harm," the old woman said. Her voice shook. "We are Ana's great-grandparents. Aaron. Amelia." She pressed her hands together. "We have known of her all her life." "Then why watch from the road?" Ember said. His fists stayed closed. "Her mother forbade us," Aaron said. "She did not want Ana to meet us. So we stayed away. We stood far off. We only wanted to see that she was safe." He looked past Ember, into the bright hall, searching. "Today we saw her walk with her head high. We could not stay in the cold any longer." Ember's grip loosened. These were not spectators. They carried Ana's marks. They were her blood, the family she thought she had lost. Faelynn studied them a long moment. Then he stepped back and opened the door wide. "Come in," he said. "Out of the cold." He led them past Ember, into the warmth, toward the crowd. Ember stood frozen at the threshold. His father's worry was answered. The watchers had names. But now Ana laughed among the townsfolk, married, finally safe—and Ember had to walk in and tell her the family who never came for her had come at last. He did not know if the news would heal her or break her open.