In the days following the chaotic auction house incident, a makeshift camp had been set up by the Fae King and his knights. They worked tirelessly to secure the area and apprehend those involved in the illegal auction. I had learned that the king's name was Adrian. He bore the title with grace and dignity, handling every situation with great poise and calm. He was a stark contrast to the image I had of Fae royalty, his kindness extending even to the very lowest of his subjects.
It was mesmerizing to see, after my experiences with Fae and Damien, I came to understand that not all Fae are evil or monsters. I watch him from a tent that was built for me, as we wait to leave to go to the human realm, it would be a lie if I said I wasn't feeling impatient about leaving. I'm so close to seeing Will's grave that it's the only thing I can think about it.
The camp bustles with activity as the knights prepare for the journey. They seem more like a well-trained and organized army than the ragtag group of rebels I'd initially taken them for. Eldrian, maintaining his composed demeanor amidst the whirlwind of action, gives orders and makes final checks on our preparations. Despite the impending travel, there is a sense of anticipation hanging in the air, a feeling that we are on the brink of something colossal.
For all his royal demeanor, Eldrian does not shirk from manual labor. He moves with purposeful strides, helping to load supplies and check weapons, his innate strength evident in every action. There's no arrogance or showboating, just an unassuming yet commanding presence that encourages respect without demanding it.
While I observe him from my tent's entrance, I realize that I am also observing a different side of myself. A part of me that is not just concerned about grief and loss but also about hope and curiosity. It is a peculiar sensation that gnaws at the edges of my consciousness, a hovering presence that wishes to break free from the shackles of sorrow. It's a part of me that yearns to venture into this unfamiliar world, to understand the complexities of Fae society under Eldrian's reign, to truly get to know these ethereal beings who have shown nothing but kindness since my arrival.
As the night grows darker, Eldrian approaches me with eyes that seem to glow in the light of our campfire. "Miss Bales, the portal will open when the moon is high. We must depart soon." As king of the Fae, he is forbidden from interfering with humans, and if I am ever in danger, he cannot come to my aid without breaking a centuries-old treaty. That's why Fae generally avoids venturing into the human realm. It's been a long time since Eldrian has returned here. When he told me this, I was taken aback and felt more grateful for his help in returning to my world and seeing Will's grave.
As I pack my belongings, I can't help but feel a twinge of melancholy. This makeshift camp, in all its chaotic glory, has become something akin to home in the short time I've been here.
The camaraderie of the knights and the kindheartedness of Eldrian have filled a void I hadn't realized was there. But the human realm calls to me with a force too powerful to resist - it's where my past resides, where my mourning remains unfinished.
The horn blares out in the dark, signaling that it's time for us to leave. My heart races like a wild deer as we begin our march toward the gate, our path illuminated by the ethereal glow of the fae lanterns.
Eldrian walks by my side, silent and stern. He's no longer the Fae king here; he's just an observer, bound by laws older than most civilizations, watching over his people entering a world hostile to their kind. "Remember, Miss Bales," he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the rustling of the grass beneath our feet, "In the human realm, I'm not the Fae king just another human, so I must follow their laws."
I nod, understanding. I glance at him, only to find him staring at the moonlit path before us, his expression unreadable. The glow of the lanterns creates a halo around his silken hair—the ethereal illumination concealing more than it reveals.
The journey towards the portal is unusually quiet. No one speaks, as if out of respect for the worlds we are about to bridge. The silence feels heavy, laden with a blend of anticipation and sadness that tugs at my heart. Despite the mixed feelings, there is a sense of unity that I cannot deny, tied together by an invisible thread of shared experience and mutual respect.
As we reach the portal, a shimmering veil suspended between two ancient oak trees, Eldrian turns to face me, his gaze solemn. "Miss Bales," he begins in a voice barely above a whisper, "once you cross over, you must know that things may not be as you remember." His words hang in the chilly night air for a moment.
I could only nod my head in response as my heart was beating so loud that I could barely hear Eldrian's voice. I take a deep breath and follow Eldrian into the portal.