The soft rustle of pages turned echoed in the otherwise quiet room. The Luminari Empire Castle Library was a sanctuary of stillness, the kind of place that held the world in reverent silence. Shelves lined with ancient tomes reached high into the air, their spines faded from centuries of careful handling. Sunlight streamed through the tall window, casting a pale glow over the worn wooden floors, dust motes floating lazily in the beams.
Aldritch Vale Luminari sat by the window, the soft light framing his slender form. He was absorbed in a thick volume, its cover bearing the ancient symbols of Terra's first age. His silver-white hair fell loosely around his shoulders, catching the light in gentle waves of lavender. His amethyst eyes were sharp as they scanned the pages, his brow furrowing in concentration. There was a quiet intensity to the way he read, an almost reverent attention to the history laid out before him.
Seraphina Rosewood stood nearby, as still and quiet as the room itself. Her navy-blue maid's dress blended with the shadows, and her delicate fingers brushed lightly over the edges of a nearby book, adjusting it in its place. She kept her posture proper, hands folded neatly in front of her, but her gaze lingered on Aldritch from the corner of her eye.
The air between them was thick with a quiet tension, though neither of them spoke. Seraphina had long since learned to remain unobtrusive when in Aldritch's presence. He preferred solitude with his books, after all, and she had no desire to disrupt the serene calm he seemed to find in them. And yet, every so often, her gaze would stray to him, drawn by the faint curve of his lips, the soft glow of his eyes when he was lost in thought.
Aldritch paused in his reading, the pages rustling as he turned one. His gaze flickered briefly to Seraphina, who stood in her customary stillness. He had grown accustomed to her presence—her quiet grace, her diligence. There was something comforting about having her nearby, though he couldn't quite explain why.
After a moment, he spoke, his voice low and soft, like the murmur of the wind outside. "The histories of Terra are... fascinating, don't you think? So much of it is lost to time. I wonder how many stories are left untold."
Seraphina straightened a stack of papers on the nearby desk, her voice equally soft as she replied, "Yes, Your Highness. History often fades with the passing of time. It is only through those who seek it out that it can be remembered."
Aldritch turned a page, his eyes meeting hers for a fleeting moment. For an instant, the world seemed to still, as though the air itself held its breath. Seraphina quickly lowered her gaze, her cheeks flushing ever so slightly.
"It is a noble pursuit, seeking knowledge," Aldritch continued, his voice quiet but warm. "But I think you already know that, don't you? You've always seemed to understand things more than others."
Seraphina felt her heart flutter at his words, but she kept her expression neutral. "It is my duty, Your Highness, to assist in whatever way I can."
Aldritch gave a small, almost imperceptible smile, returning to his book. "Duty is one thing. But knowledge... and understanding... those are gifts that go beyond duty."
Seraphina nodded silently, though her heart swelled with a mixture of gratitude and longing. She knew her place—she had always known it. And yet, moments like this, when he spoke to her with such sincerity, made her question whether there could ever be more than the unspoken boundaries that defined their relationship.
For now, though, she merely stood quietly, content in the peaceful silence of the library. The soft crackle of pages turning, the muted light, and the presence of Aldritch were enough to fill the space. They were two people, bound by different worlds but sharing a moment of quiet understanding.
The rhythmic click of boots on polished stone echoed softly as Aldritch's personal guard stepped into the library. The tranquil silence broke as the guard cleared his throat.
"Your Highness, the Emperor has requested your presence in the main dining room. The royal family is gathered," the guard announced, bowing briefly.
Aldritch exhaled through his nose, his fingers still resting on the edge of the history book. He didn't look up immediately. "Of course they have," he muttered, closing the book with a measured but audible thud.
Seraphina, standing to the side, caught the faint irritation in his voice. She stepped forward just enough to be in his line of sight, her gaze warm and understanding. "It seems even history must wait for royal duties," she said softly, her voice laced with a touch of humour.
Aldritch glanced at her, the corner of his mouth quirking upward despite himself. "If only duty had the patience of history," he replied, rising to his feet.
Seraphina reached for the book on the table, gently brushing imaginary dust from its cover. "Well, perhaps a reminder of your wisdom will help temper their expectations." She held the book up slightly, her amber eyes meeting his. "Shall I leave it open to your last page for your triumphant return?"
Aldritch chuckled quietly, shaking his head. "Do you think I'll be triumphant, Seraphina?"
She tilted her head ever so slightly, the faintest of smiles playing on her lips. "You're certainly capable of surprising even the most difficult audience, Your Highness." Then, with a momentary glimmer of mischief, she added, "Though I can't promise patience if the meal is delayed."
The guard shifted slightly, clearly waiting for them to finish, but Aldritch's focus lingered on Seraphina. For a brief moment, the air between them seemed lighter. Finally, he sighed and straightened his coat.
"Thank you, Seraphina," he said, his voice quieter now, tinged with appreciation. "Try not to let my absence bore you too much."
As he followed the guard out, Seraphina stood by the window, the book still in her hands. Watching him leave, she couldn't help but whisper to herself, "You underestimate how much your presence fills a room."
The grand dining hall was already alive with the hum of conversation and the flicker of golden light from the towering chandeliers. Aldritch hesitated at the threshold, smoothing down his tailored coat. His lateness was deliberate—he'd spent those extra minutes in the library, gathering himself for the ordeal ahead.
He entered quietly, but the moment the heavy doors groaned shut behind him, the noise dulled. Heads turned, some with curiosity, others with irritation. His eldest brother, Lysander, leaned back in his chair, a sharp smile tugging at his lips.
"Well, the scholar prince graces us with his presence," Lysander drawled, lifting his goblet in mock salute. "Did a book detain you, Aldritch?"
A ripple of laughter followed, low and cutting.
Aldritch's amethyst eyes flicked to the long dining table. His father, King Valerius, sat at its head, his expression carved from stone. Beside him was his stepmother, Queen Celeste, adorned in pearls and cool disdain. At the far end of the table, Aldritch's mother sat quietly, her hands folded demurely in her lap. She met his gaze with a faint, encouraging nod, though her worry was evident in the tightness of her lips.
"My apologies, Your Majesty," Aldritch said, bowing deeply. His voice was calm, steady. "I didn't mean to disrupt the evening."
The King's sharp gaze lingered on him for a moment too long. "See that it does not happen again," he said curtly, gesturing for Aldritch to take his seat.
Aldritch slid into the empty chair near the end of the table, acutely aware of the whispers that followed. Callista, his younger sister by only a year, offered him a small, conspiratorial smile from across the table. She, at least, wasn't entirely hostile.
He folded his hands neatly in his lap, ignoring the way Lysander leaned in, his tone just loud enough to be overheard. "Perhaps he was lost in the labyrinth of his own thoughts. Or perhaps he's writing his next great treatise—'The Art of Being Forgotten.'"
Aldritch felt the sting of the words but schooled his expression into one of indifference. Let them talk, he thought, his fingers tightening subtly around the edge of the table. It won't be the first time, nor the last.
The King raised his goblet, silencing the murmurs with a single motion. "Enough chatter. Tonight, we honour Prince Caelum's triumphs abroad, a testament to the strength and legacy of Luminaris."
The table erupted into polite applause as Caelum, broad-shouldered and resplendent in his ceremonial armor, nodded magnanimously. Aldritch clapped lightly, his gaze flickering to his plate.
"And yet," the King's voice cut through the applause, "it is also a time to address the future of this empire."
The hall stilled. Aldritch felt his stomach knot as his father's gaze fell on him, heavy with unspoken disappointment.
"You, Aldritch."
The sound of his name hung in the air like a blade poised to strike. Aldritch forced himself to meet the King's piercing stare, even as a wave of heat crawled up his neck.
"A man of twenty-four summers," Valerius continued, his tone edged with reproach, "and yet your contributions to this family remain... elusive."
Lysander's smirk widened as he leaned toward Callista. "Elusive is generous," he murmured, earning a sharp glare from her.
The King ignored the interruption, his voice rising. "While your brothers and sisters have forged legacies in blood and diplomacy, you linger here, buried in scrolls and dreams. This is unbecoming of a prince."
Aldritch braced himself, his jaw tightening. He could feel the weight of every gaze at the table, some smug, others pitying. Only Callista and his mother seemed to look at him with anything resembling compassion.
"Therefore," Valerius said, his tone as final as a hammer striking stone, "you will leave at dawn for the Forgotten Reaches."
The words hit harder than Aldritch had expected, even though he'd seen this moment coming.
"The Reaches?" he echoed, struggling to keep the tremor from his voice.
The King nodded, his expression unyielding. "A governor is needed. It is an untamed land of brigands and beasts, a place where leadership must be earned, not inherited. Prove yourself there, Aldritch, or do not return."
The silence that followed was deafening. Lysander's laugh broke it, sharp and derisive. "The scholar prince sent to tame the wilderness. A fitting end to his—"
"Enough." Callista's voice cut through, cold and sharp. "The Reaches are no trivial assignment, Lysander. Perhaps you'd like to exchange places with him?"
Lysander's smirk faltered, but the King silenced any further bickering with a raised hand.
"This is not a debate," Valerius said. "The Reaches will become your proving ground, Aldritch. Do not fail me."
Aldritch swallowed hard and inclined his head. "As you command, Your Majesty."
He felt his mother's eyes on him as the meal resumed, her silent pride and sorrow mingling in the faint curve of her lips.