We had one Pori fruit left. Its bright skin glistened in the pale morning light as we handed it to Zeus, who gratefully curled up beneath a towering pine. His soft purrs filled the crisp air as he drifted into a peaceful nap.
"Let's find food," Alas said, brushing snow off his coat. We had never set foot outside our homeland, and now, everything felt foreign and exhilarating. The snow came up to our knees, turning each step into a laborious struggle.
When we finally emerged from the woods, we found ourselves on the edge of a grand, well-maintained road. The contrast was startling. It was wide, cleared of snow, and paved with smooth, colored stones arranged in a mosaic of giant letters I didn't bother trying to decipher. The road stretched endlessly, lined with vibrant shops bustling with life.
The people here were different—nobler, more refined. They wore luxurious fur-lined cloaks and polished leather boots that crunched against the frost. Their faces were warm, some offering polite smiles as they passed. The buildings were a riot of color, unlike the subdued hues of Archirilio, where muted stone and weathered wood dominated. Here, color seemed to bloom in every corner, and even the cold couldn't steal the vibrancy from the air.
Alas caught my attention, gesturing toward a quaint blue building. Its exterior was simple, but the glass door gave a glimpse of a cozy interior painted to resemble the sky—soft blues, fluffy clouds, and an unmistakable painting of a creature that looked exactly like Zeus.
The door chimed softly as we entered. The warmth enveloped us immediately, chasing away the chill from outside.
"Good morning!" A bright voice greeted us. A woman approached, her smile radiant. "Welcome to Zeus! Here's the menu—take your time, and let me know when you're ready." She placed the menu on the table with a gentle nod before retreating.
I exchanged a bewildered look with Alas. "Zeus?"
"How do they know about him?" Alas whispered, his voice tight with suspicion.
I shook my head, lowering my voice. "It's not our Zeus. It can't be."
"It has to be," Alas insisted, his eyes flicking to the painting. "Look at that. There's no mistaking it." We soon found a table to sit.
Alas raised a hand, signaling the waitress. "Miss?"
A waitress came to our table, her smile never faltering. "Yes, sir?"
"We'll have these," Alas said, pointing at the menu.
Still unsettled, I flipped through the menu. "And maybe this."
The woman nodded and took the order, but Alas couldn't hold back any longer. "That painting," he began, pointing toward the depiction of Zeus. "What inspired it?"
Her eyes softened. "Ah, that's Zeus. He's the kingdom's national animal—though, of course, he's a fictional creature." She chuckled, oblivious to the tension rising between me and Alas. "A white, flying tiger-like beast with the power to summon lightning. Quite the symbol of strength, don't you think?"
I barely managed to nod, my mind reeling. Fictional? How could she call him that when we knew he was real? I guess they're non-benders.. but how'd they know about it in the first place?
"Orders will be out soon," she added before retreating to the kitchen.
I leaned in, lowering my voice further. "No way."
Alas's eyes were alight with something I couldn't quite place—excitement or maybe fear. "It means..."
"It means someone here knows," I finished for him, my stomach twisting into knots. "Someone knows Zeus isn't just a myth."
We sat in uneasy silence, each lost in our thoughts until the waitress returned with our food. The plates were warm, steam curling into the air. The smell of spices and mushrooms filled the small restaurant, momentarily distracting me from the storm of questions in my mind. I took a bite of the vegan burger, the flavors rich and earthy. It was the best thing I'd eaten in days.
"You were right," I said softly, savoring the warmth that spread through me. "This is amazing."
Alas nodded but remained distant, lost in contemplation. He only spoke again once we'd finished and paid. "We need to head to the castle."
I frowned. "You think the king will just see us? We're strangers."
"He might if he knows something about Zeus." He glanced at me, determination burning in his eyes. "We have to try."
Outside, the cold bit into us once more, but this time it felt sharper. Snow crunched underfoot as we approached an elderly man walking his large, brown dog.
"Excuse me, sir," I called, "could you tell us the way to the castle?"
The man smiled kindly, adjusting his woolen hat. "Straight down this road until you reach the end, then turn right. You'll see it looming in the distance. Can't miss it."
"Thank you," I said, bowing slightly.
As we walked, I broke the silence. "Alas, do you think Archirilio will be okay? We left it with the spirit still out there."
He didn't hesitate. "No. But we had no choice."
"We should go back," I said, unease prickling at me.
"If we need to, I'll return," he replied, voice firm. "But not you. You'll stay here."
I shot him a glare. "I'm not letting you go alone."
He smirked. "And I'm not letting you fall for Prince Skyro."
I rolled my eyes. "I won't."
"No guarantees."
By the time we reached the castle gates, my legs ached, and the imposing structure loomed before us like a giant's fortress. The walls were tall and cold, a pale beige color, accented with white vines sculpted from stone, snaking toward the sky. Two guards clad in dark blue and gold armor stood at attention. As we approached, they crossed their spears, barring our way.
"What business do you have with the royal family?" one asked gruffly.
Alas straightened, his voice calm but authoritative. "Good morning. I'm Alastare, and this is my sister, Valentine. We seek an audience with the king to inquire about the kingdom's national animal, Zeus."
The guard frowned, exchanging a look with his companion. "The castle gates do not open until ten. It's only half past nine now. You'll have to wait."
"That's fine," Alas said, bowing slightly. "Thank you."
We retreated to a gazebo by a frozen lake, settling on the stone bench. I stretched my legs and flexed my stiff muscles.
"Here," I murmured, using my bloodbending to ease the tension in both our bodies.
Alas sighed in relief. "Thanks," he said, leaning back as I rested against him.
The lake was eerily quiet, the ice reflecting the pale morning light, and the occasional bird flitted across the sky. My thoughts were still spinning, too many questions with too few answers.
An old man approached the gazebo, his long white coat trailing slightly in the snow. He moved gracefully, with the quiet dignity of someone accustomed to command. He smiled warmly as he sat across from us.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" he said, his voice gentle.
"Yes," Alas answered, ever polite.
"It's rare to see young people out so early," the man continued, studying us with curious eyes. "Diligent, aren't you?"
"Not exactly," Alas replied with a soft laugh. "We're here to see the king. We have some questions and didn't realize the castle wouldn't open until later."
The man chuckled, his eyes crinkling. "I see." He paused, a wistful smile tugging at his lips. "I come here every year on this day. Eighteen years ago, at this very spot, I met someone—someone who changed everything." His voice faltered, and he quickly wiped a tear from his eye. "She was the most beautiful soul I've ever known."
Alas exchanged a glance with me, his curiosity piqued. "A true love moment?" he asked softly.
The man nodded, his gaze far away. "Indeed." He studied us again, a strange look passing over his face. "Do I know you?"
Alas tilted his head. "I don't believe so, sir."
The man's eyes twinkled with something unreadable. "Come with me," he said, standing.
We exchanged wary glances but followed. Something about him felt familiar, yet I couldn't place why.
At the castle gates, the guards straightened and, to my surprise, bowed deeply as the man approached. Without a word, the gates opened wide.
Alas leaned toward me, whispering, "He's important. More important than we thought."
I nodded, heart pounding as we stepped into the grand courtyard, the castle rising before us like something out of a dream.
The castle before us was a marvel—majestic and overwhelming, its walls shimmering in soft hues of rose gold and beige. Intricate carvings decorated the façade, and twin statues of winged creatures, eerily reminiscent of Zeus, flanked the massive double doors. The walk toward the entrance felt endless, each step echoing on the stone path lined with frozen fountains and immaculate hedges dusted with snow.
I shivered, but not from the cold. There was a strange energy here, as if the very air vibrated with history and secrets waiting to be unveiled.
"Look," I whispered, pointing to the towering wings at the pinnacle of the castle. "Those wings—they look like Zeus'."
Alas followed my gaze, his brow furrowed in thought. "Maybe they are."
We reached the grand doors, which were hewn from dark wood and adorned with golden vines. Two guards stood at attention, their armor glinting in the weak sunlight. Without a word, they pulled the doors open, revealing an interior that stole the breath from my lungs.
The grand hall stretched before us, cavernous and resplendent. Massive chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, their crystals casting delicate rainbows across the polished marble floor. The walls were lined with towering windows draped in heavy, velvet curtains. Ornate paintings and tapestries depicting scenes of battle, peace, and strange, otherworldly creatures adorned every surface.
The central aisle led directly to a high stage where four thrones sat, each more elaborate than the last. The tallest and most ornate sat in the center, its gilded edges gleaming like captured sunlight.
I was so entranced by the spectacle that I didn't notice the old man moving until he began ascending the steps to the central throne. He moved slowly, each step deliberate, and then he turned to face us, his expression serene but proud.
My heart stuttered in realization.
"No way," I whispered, grasping Alas' arm. "Is he…?"
The man, now seated on the throne, reached up and placed a gleaming crown upon his head, its jewels sparkling like captured starlight. His voice rang clear through the hall, rich with authority.
"Good morning, young travelers." The king's voice resonated through the grand hall, smooth yet laden with something deeper. His warm smile seemed to brighten the space, but his eyes—those piercing, ancient eyes—held a weight that stole the breath from my lungs. "Welcome to my kingdom."
The words hung in the air like thunder after a storm.
Alas and I dropped to our knees, the echo of our movements swallowed by the vastness around us. "Your Majesty," Alas said, his voice steady, but I could feel the tension trembling beneath the surface. "Please forgive us for not recognizing you sooner."
The king's laughter was rich, warm, but it barely softened the gravity in the room. "No need for apologies," he said, his tone lighter, though his eyes never lost their intensity. "I prefer it this way. It reminds me of simpler times, before crowns and thrones weighed so heavily."
He studied us in silence for a moment that stretched far too long. The weight of his gaze pressed down, not unkind, but unrelenting. "You said you came to ask about Zeus?" His voice dipped, gentle but sharper now, like a blade wrapped in velvet.
"Yes, Your Majesty." Alas rose to his feet slowly, keeping his head bowed. I followed suit, my heart pounding. "We are searching for our parents. They left us with one clue—the name Zeus. We believe it is tied to the kingdom's national animal."
The king's smile faltered. It was subtle, a twitch of the lips, a shadow passing across his face. For a fleeting second, his expression crumpled under the weight of something old and deeply buried—pain, recognition, or both. "Zeus, you say?" His voice was quieter now, each word dripping with an unspoken sorrow.
I swallowed hard, gathering the courage to speak. "Yes, Your Majesty. We've read that only a select few can see Zeus, and we believe you might know something about those who can."
His eyes locked onto mine, bright and haunting, as if they could reach into my soul and pull out every secret I had ever buried. A chill coursed through me, freezing me in place. For a long, agonizing moment, he said nothing. Then, softly, almost reverently, he spoke.
"Alastare… Valentine… stand up."
The words echoed like a command from the heavens, rippling through the vast hall, shattering the air between us. The room spun, tilting wildly as if the very ground had shifted beneath my feet. My limbs felt heavy, as though the weight of his voice alone could crush me, but I rose, trembling, fear and confusion twisting in my chest like serpents.
He descended the steps with a grace too measured, too deliberate, as though each step brought him closer to a truth too painful to bear. His eyes never left ours—bright, piercing, and raw with emotions too tangled to name. When he reached us, the space between us now unbearably small, he lifted his hands—strong, yet trembling—and gently tilted our faces upward.
The touch was both alien and familiar, tender yet reverent. I couldn't breathe, couldn't look away from the tears brimming in his eyes, shimmering like stars on the edge of collapse.
"Alastare," he whispered, and his voice fractured, trembling like a fractured mirror, each shard cutting deeper. "You've grown." His hand moved to me, a featherlight brush against my cheek, and I felt the years of longing, the pain embedded in that single touch. "And Valentine… you have your mother's eyes."
The words pierced through me, sharp and unforgiving, stealing the breath from my lungs. "You… you knew her?" My voice was barely more than a broken whisper.
His smile shattered—raw, jagged, and laced with anguish. "Knew her?" A bitter, hollow laugh escaped him, tears streaking down his face. "She was my world, my light in the darkest of nights. And you…" His voice broke again, shaking with both sorrow and joy. "You are my children."
The air cracked around us, and the hall spun faster, the towering chandeliers blurring into streaks of blinding light. The world slowed and fractured, my heartbeat thundered in my ears, and time itself seemed to unravel. His words echoed endlessly in the chasm that had opened beneath my feet.