The scene moved forward by a few hours, keeping the reunion intimate and focusing on the true weight of the hundred years Sylphie had lived through.
A few hours had passed since the meal, though neither of them had paid much attention to the time. The dishes had already been washed, the green flame in the small kitchen had been reduced to a faint glow, and the light outside was beginning to shift slowly between the branches of the World Tree. In that place, however, even the passing of hours seemed unreliable. The sky did not fully obey ordinary cycles, and the brightness seemed to answer more to Yggdrasil's will than to the position of any true sun.
