As a deafening CRACK of thunder split the night, Eydis stumbled, the very ground beneath her feet groaning in protest. Her heart hammered against her ribs, mimicking the rhythmic thrumming of molten rock visible through a fissure in the earth. Crimson lava, viscous and spitting embers, writhed like a wounded beast, devouring everything in its path. The stench of sulphur hung heavy in the air, mingling with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid bite of singed wood.
She knew it was a dream, a version of hell described in countless stories, as she walked on a field of dancing flames unscathed. Yet, amidst the chaos, she recognised the majestic ranges, the once-pristine castle now reduced to rubble, and the house crest, consumed by hellfire. The once-proud arctic fox, symbol of nobility and grace, now bore the mark of the flames, its fur singed, its eyes smouldering embers. The elegant "X" formed by the crossed swords, emblems of honour and valour, now felt like a mocking brand, a reminder of what had been lost.
The noble house crumbled to dust, the immaculate snowy landscape being replaced by a sea of red, distant cries of agony echoing through the woods. Turning towards the faint sound, she could discern a solitary figure in the distance, a man cloaked in blood, clutching a severed head. His silver hair streaked with ashes, eyes gleaming with murderous glint. He licked the blood from his hand, a twisted grin stretching across his face. The enigmatic ice prince has vanished, leaving behind a shell who now exuded a savage demeanour akin to that of a ruthless killer. Discarding the remains of his victim, his once loyal aide, he advanced towards her, a predator closing in on its prey.
"You cannot alter what's destined to unfold." His voice echoed, carrying a demonic tone reminded her of the high witch's eerie cries.
A jolt ripped her from the nightmare, leaving her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead, mimicking the rain that had lashed the castle walls in her fevered dream. Captain Robin stood by the bed, his usual stoicism tinged with unease. His presence did little to soothe the knot of dread twisting in her gut.
"Bad dreams?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.
Eydis scowled, the anger of being intruded on a welcome shield against the unsettling images still flickering in her mind. "You could say that." Her gaze fell on Captain Robin, his steadied breathing was a reassurance that his gruesome fate was a figment of her dream.
Captain Robin stood at the threshold, his face unreadable. "I must admit, Miss Eydis," he began, his voice strained, "I'm not quite sure how to feel about dying in your dream. I thought our relationship was rather...amicable." He spoke in a light tone, seemingly trying to alleviate her inner turmoil.
"Whatever it is, Captain Lionel Robin, there must be a reason why you're here, in my chamber." She emphasised, "…at night?"
"It's...about the Pr- Lady Athena," he blurts out, a flush creeping up his neck. "She, uh, fainted.
A sharp edge crept into Eydis' voice as she questioned, "And what precisely does this 'incident' have to do with me, Captain?
Robin shifted uncomfortably, his hand instinctively brushing against the hilt of his sword. "It seems…your presence can have…unforeseen consequences, Miss Eydis."
What did he mean? Was he suggesting she was somehow responsible for the princess's fainting? The accusation was outrageous, laughable.
"I understand your frustration but...wait, you knew she was a princess?" Captain asked, startled.
"Of course," Eydis response, her gaze sharp. "Anyone with half a brain could tell she's royalty."
Sensing the captain's unease, Eydis pressed, "So you come barging into my chamber in the dead of night, accusing me of what? Witchcraft?"
Robin flinched. "No, Miss Eydis, please. Duke Whitlock wants to see you immediately. He has questions."
He exited the room as she stumbled to her feet, hair cascading over her knees like an unruly waterfall. Sweat clung to her skin, and her nightgown felt damp and heavy. Every fiber of her being screamed for a haircut, for the weight of the past to be sheared away along with the tangled strands. Her long fringe dipped across her eyes, blurring the edges of the unfamiliar room. It was an absurd shield, especially considering the curse's ability to pierce through any flimsy attempts at concealment. No, what she needed was clarity, a return to the sharp focus of Amelie Kruger, a name she hadn't dared utter in front of these enigmatic strangers.
A week since waking. A week of sterile silence on the topic of magic, despite the Duke's daily visits. His conversations steered to politics, history, anything but the thrumming power that pulsed beneath the surface of this gilded cage. It wasn't enough. She craved the library's dusty whispers, the secrets hidden within leather-bound spines. But magic remained elusive, a ghost flitting at the edge of her perception. A frustration clawed at her, sharp and insistent. She needed answers, needed to understand the extent of their power, the limitations hidden within their so-called 'elements'. Factions, she thought, a more apt term than the fanciful labels they clung to.
To Eydis, elements weren't mere magic, weren't fire or water nonsense. They were the universe's whispered secrets, forged in the fiery crucibles of stars. Hydrogen, helium, lithium - the primordial trio that birthed a symphony of elements, scattered like stardust across the cosmic canvas. Life's inception found its root in these elements, nurtured by the Earth's gentle embrace. From single-celled whispers to the grand symphony of existence, we shared a lineage with the first stars, children of the Big Bang's chaotic dance. We were cosmic accidents, yet inevitable masterpieces, painted onto the canvas of time by aeons of intricate chemical choreography.
That was her conviction, a perspective both poignant and poetic. It carried her through bouts of darkness, periods tainted by depression and existential questionings. She remembered wandering through countless landscapes, seeking for a purpose, delving deeper into a world where kindness was as scarce as precious jewels, and humanity unveiled the depths of its cruelty.
Yet, her solace, forged in the fiery crucibles of stars, shattered against the cold marble floor of this magical palace. No longer were elements mere whispers of creation, but tools in a celestial game orchestrated by a divine hand. Humans, not children of the Big Bang, were flawed puppets sculpted by an inscrutable God, some gifted with powers beyond mortal comprehension. Why, if divinity truly reigned, did it allow such darkness to consume its own creations?
An insistent rapping on the door startled Eydis from her reverie. A moment later, Sophie, a maid with kind eyes and calloused hands, bustled in, carrying a steaming bucket of water. The air, infused with the comforting scent of chamomile and lavender, instantly soothed Eydis' furrowed brow. "My lady," Sophie chirped, her voice as warm as the water she carried, "your bath awaits."
Eydis was then dressed in a flowing gown of deep gentle ivory silk, its elegant touch caressing her skin delicately. The suede bodice, fitted and tailored to accentuate her form, is made of a rich brocade woven with threads of gold, catching the sunlight like scattered dewdrops. The ensemble was completed with a braided leather belt, adorned with round-cut clear quartz, a touch Sophie insisted upon despite her protest. Her shoulders were draped with a thick, white fur coat before she ventured out of her room to meet her escort.
The captain regarded her with discerning eyes as he guided her towards the Duke's study - a task he had performed regularly over the past week.
They exchanged greetings with Duke Whitlock before settling in their usual positions in the room. Eydis took her place across from the duke on the sofa, while the captain stood near the fireplace, ensuring the flames burned steadily. She couldn't help but wonder why the Duke had chosen an Inferno-born as his aid, rather than someone of Silverkeep's lineage. Perhaps he sought the warmth the Captain provided as one of the perks. The captain muttered something in annoyance, heat clearly reached his ears, while the Duke continued to regard her with a charming gaze, seemingly unfazed by her teasing. "Her Royal Highness, I trust the news of her collapse in your room hasn't been too jarring?"
Eydis, feigning ignorance, met his gaze with cool eyes. "Your Grace, I was lost in slumber. This news is as foreign to me as the night sky."
The Duke's smile deepened, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "No concern, Miss Eydis. No accusations are aimed at you. Her visit to your room was witnessed by her maid, who recounted the incident." He paused, gauging her reaction. The anger that had flared in her heart moments ago simmered down, replaced by a gnawing worry.
"Is the Princess well?" she asked, her voice betraying her concern. The Duke and Captain's calmness hinted at no immediate danger, but a knot of fear twisted in her gut.
"Your concern is appreciated, Miss Eydis," the Duke said smoothly. "According to the maid, Princess Athena, fueled by curiosity, sought you out to glimpse your future."
"My future?" she echoed, amber eyes widening with a flicker of intrigue. "Is that a power of the divines?"
Duke Theomund cleared his throat, smoothing his impeccably tailored coat. "Indeed, Miss Eydis," he said, voice smooth as polished silver. "Though most imperial descendants inherit healing magic, Princess Athena possesses a rare gift – the ability to glimpse the future, not just her own, but anyone she touches."
A memory surged through Theo's mind, vivid as yesterday. Five years ago, the throne room thrummed with tension as Athena, a wisp of a girl, had gazed into the eyes of his fellow dukes and unfurled their destinies. His own vision: unwavering loyalty, a life unfolding like a well-worn tapestry beside a woman with hair like sunlight. He recalled Athena's sudden collapse, her tiny form drained of power before glimpsing the future of the Duke of Sylvanwood. The Princess, it seemed, wasn't yet experienced enough to wield such a potent ability.
"Does she faint every time, Your Grace?" Eydis' voice, sharp as a honed blade, cut through his reverie. Theo admired her quick mind, even as it pricked at the secrets he held close.
Theo forced a smile. "Princess Athena's mana," he said, choosing his words carefully, "is formidable. Perhaps even stronger now."
"I suppose I shall have to wait for the Princess to awaken then," Eydis replied, her voice laced with barely veiled frustration. "Magic, after all, is far beyond my simple understanding."
Theo felt a pang of guilt. He'd promised answers, yet held back the very knowledge she craved. A selfish desire, a twisted part of him whispered, to keep her sheltered under his watchful gaze. To hide her brilliance from the world. Despite Eydis' exceptional wits, she was powerless in this world.
He watched her from the corner of his eye, her brow furrowed in contemplation. Was it anger alone that shadowed her eyes, or something deeper, something hidden? He'd seen her gaze lost in the distance from the library window, a lone figure against the vast canvas of the sky. He'd yearned to join her, to brush aside a stray strand of hair and glimpse the secrets swirling within her.
"It was simply my duty to inform you, Miss Eydis," he said, his voice a hollow echo of his true thoughts.
A light knock on the door punctuated their conversation. Captain Robin excused himself before returning shortly, face brimming with joy.
"Your Grace, Princess Athena is awake!"