A Turn for the Worse.
The air in the carriage felt heavy, tension settling like a shroud over its occupants. Elara sat stiffly, her mind racing. She couldn't tell them about the cottage and the world she had been in. Here, in this world, revealing those truths would expose her as someone out of place, someone she couldn't afford to be.
Her brain worked furiously to piece together a believable story. She glanced at Adrian, whose gaze was unyielding, and then at the physician, who was equally attentive. Finally, inspiration struck—a plausible explanation, rooted in a mix of truth and lies.
She looked directly at Adrian. "I received another tip," she said. "Something unrelated to the mission from the imperial palace."
The Crown Prince raised an eyebrow, his confusion apparent. "Another tip?" he echoed. "What was it about?"
Elara took a steadying breath, keeping her voice calm. "I've been trying to find someone for a long time now," she said. "The tipper who informed us about the criminals also told me this person might be found in the jungle beyond these mountains."
Adrian leaned forward slightly, his expression unreadable, though his surprise was evident. The explanation didn't sit well with him, that much was clear. He opened his mouth, as if to accuse her of lying, but his gaze flickered to the physician. Whatever he had been about to say, he thought better of it. Instead, he asked, as if knowing the person she had been looking for "Did you find this person?"
Elara hesitated, her mind flashing back to the turquoise-eyed man she had seen in the jungle and the memory of that unrealistically large wolf. She couldn't tell them about that either—not yet. Shaking her head slightly, she replied, "No, I don't think so. My memories of that time are blurry. I don't remember much of what happened after I went into the jungle."
She deliberately furrowed her brow, feigning frustration. "Honestly, I'm still struggling to make sense of it all. My head… it's been playing tricks on me. I can't even be sure of what's real and what isn't."
She glanced at the physician, silently pleading for support. "It might be the poison from the stab wound," she added, hoping her excuse would hold.
The physician, perceptive and quick to adapt, nodded. "That's entirely possible," she said. "Toxins can cause confusion, memory lapses, and hallucination, especially if they've entered the bloodstream. Her symptoms align with such effects."
Adrian's sharp gaze darted between the two women. Though he didn't look fully convinced, he let the matter rest—for now.
Throughout the conversation, Elara shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The wound on her side had begun to throb incessantly, a dull heat radiating outward. Her fingers flexed as if to scratch at it, but she resisted the urge.
Just as Adrian opened his mouth to ask another question, the pain spiked sharply, and Elara couldn't suppress a cry of pain. Her hand flew to her side, her expression contorted with agony as the burning sensation became unbearable.
"Elara?" Adrian's voice, steady and commanding, was now edged with concern.
The physician moved to her side instantly, attempting to inspect the wound. But the moment her fingers brushed against Elara's side, the woman flinched violently, her pale face now drenched in sweat.
Adrian leaned forward sharply. "Driver! Faster! Get us to the Aeternum estate immediately!"
The physician shook her head, her frustration mounting. "Her fever is spiking," she muttered, pulling a cloth from her bag to dab at Elara's forehead. "I don't understand how her condition has worsened this quickly. This wound—whatever it is—is beyond my understanding."
Adrian's jaw tightened, his composure slipping. "Do something!" he snapped.
"I'm trying," the physician snapped back, her own voice tinged with worry. "But without knowing what's causing this, I can't risk doing anything that might make it worse!"
Elara's breathing became labored as her eyelids fluttered. The world around her began to blur, and though she could faintly hear Adrian barking orders, his voice seemed distant, like a sound carried on the wind.
Her last coherent thought before slipping into unconsciousness was of those turquoise eyes—steady, unwavering, and watching her from the shadows.
As Elara slipped into unconsciousness, she found herself back in her room, the one she didn't expect to miss this much. The dim glow of morning light filtered through the curtains. The walls were lined with posters and bookshelves, a perfect reflection of her modern world. Her heart surged with relief—this was her room. Her hair, black and smooth, cascaded over her shoulders as it had always been in her memories.
She touched her face, ran her fingers through her hair, and glanced at the familiar surroundings. "It was just a dream," she whispered to herself, a sense of calm washing over her. The fighting, the strange world, the people—it was all just a vivid, bizarre nightmare.
Her peace shattered when a sound from outside her room reached her ears. The clinking of dishes and the rhythmic chopping of a knife on a cutting board. Elara froze, her mind racing. After her brother's disappearance and her parents' deaths, the house had been silent for years. She had lived alone ever since.
Heart pounding, she opened the door and rushed to the open kitchen. Her breath caught in her throat.
There he was—the turquoise-eyed man, his silver hair catching the light as he focused on preparing something at the counter. He was wearing his usual gray sweatshirt and cargo pants. His face was calm, serious, as he worked, but she recognized him instantly.
The door shut behind her with a soft thud. The man glanced up at the noise, his expression shifting to one of humor and warmth.
"Oh, the sleepyhead is finally awake?" he teased, his deep voice rich with affection.
Elara's legs wobbled. Her vision blurred as tears welled in her eyes. It was him—Kaelion—Kael, her brother, the one she had searched for tirelessly, feared she'd never see again.
She broke down, her tears flowing freely. Years of strength and determination cracked open, giving way to raw, unrestrained emotion.
Kael's expression softened, his eyes full of understanding as he immediately closed the distance between them. "Hey, don't cry on me now," he said gently, his hands steadying her shoulders as she clung to him.
With hiccups punctuating her words, she choked out, "I found you at last… We have finally met."
Kael smiled, his kind smile reserved only for her, and shook his head slightly. "Yes, you did find me," he said, his voice calm and reassuring. His turquoise eyes met hers, filled with affection and something deeper. "But you have yet to meet me."
Elara frowned, confusion mixing with her tears. What was he saying? He was here, in front of her, wasn't he?
Before she could ask, Kael's body began to fade. Panic surged through her, and she tried to grab him again, screaming, "Stop!"
He touched a strand of her hair, black and shining, and as his fingers brushed it, the color began to change. The strands turned a bluish silver, the transformation spreading until her hair was no longer black but gleamed with its newfound hue.
"How am I going to meet you?" Elara whispered, her voice trembling with desperation.
Kael smiled, his face serene. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "You already know, little sister, you just need to remember it. Now, it's time to actually wake up."
Before she could hold onto him, before she could say anything else, he vanished completely.