"Let me go!" Elara screamed, her voice raw with desperation, as the guard's iron grip held her arms in place. She thrashed wildly, her feet barely skimming the cobblestones as he carried her effortlessly. " Put Me Down!"
Her cries echoed through the empty streets, swallowed by the vastness of the magical city that now felt more like a gilded cage. Panic bubbled in her chest, threatening to suffocate her. Her breath hitched, her vision blurred, and she clawed at the guard's arm with all the strength she had left.
"I told you to leave me alone!" she shrieked again, her voice cracking, but it was no use. The guardian moved like an unshakable force, his footsteps steady and unyielding.
Then, without a word, he stopped and set her down—not gently, but not harshly either. Elara stumbled backward, her body trembling as rage and fear collided within her. Without thinking, she lashed out, her fists colliding against the unyielding armor on his chest.
"You—!" she cried, her voice breaking. "You @#!& brute! Do you enjoy tormenting people like this?"
Her words tumbled out in a raw, fractured stream, and with each syllable, she hit his chest again and again, her strength fading with every strike. The guard didn't flinch. He simply stepped back, his expression unreadable.
Elara's hands fell to her sides, her body sagging under the weight of everything that had happened. She felt as though she'd been running from one nightmare to the next, and now the last fragile thread of her composure had snapped. Tears streamed down her cheeks, hot and uncontrollable, and she made no effort to stop them.
Her vision swam as she wiped her face with trembling hands, hiccupping through sobs that felt like they were being ripped from her soul. The overwhelming beauty of the kingdom, the eerie stares, the cryptic warnings, and now being manhandled like some criminal—it was too much.
And then she saw him.
The man with the dark, piercing eyes stood just a few feet away, watching her silently. He seemed to materialize out of the shadows, his presence commanding but unnervingly calm.
Elara froze for a moment, her breath hitching again, but this time for an entirely different reason. His eyes... those dark, fathomless eyes bore into hers, not with anger or pity, but with an intensity that made her feel both seen and utterly vulnerable.
"What do you want?" she spat, her voice trembling as she struggled to contain the whirlwind of emotions inside her.
He tilted his head slightly, his expression as unreadable as his gaze. When he spoke, his voice was low, smooth, and laced with an almost mocking amusement. "Is this how mortals defend themselves? By screaming and flailing like frightened birds?"
Elara's cheeks flushed with anger and humiliation, but she couldn't bring herself to respond. Her words caught in her throat, tangled with the lingering sobs that hadn't yet subsided.
He took a slow step closer, his movements deliberate, as if he were testing her reaction. "You've caused quite the disruption," he said, his tone colder now. "You entered the Starlight Kingdom unbidden. That is not a matter to be taken lightly."
Her knees wavered, and she instinctively stepped back, her fear of him growing with every word. But behind her fear was something else—a flicker of defiance, the faintest ember of the courage she didn't know she still had.
Elara wiped her face again, straightened her spine as much as she could, and met his gaze, though her voice still trembled. "I don't belong here," she whispered, her tone softer now but no less firm. "I didn't ask to come here."
He regarded her for a moment, his expression unreadable. For a brief second, something shifted in his eyes, a glimmer of... curiosity? Recognition? It was gone before she could be sure.
"You may not belong here," he finally said, his voice quieter now, almost contemplative, "but that does not change the fact that you are here."
Aerondrion stood still for a moment, his dark eyes locked on Elara, who was trembling as she stood amidst the road. The faint moonlight cascading down from the eternal twilight sky seemed to highlight her small figure, making her appear even more fragile. His jaw tightened, his thoughts momentarily drifting away from the chaos at hand.
"Take her to the castle," he said sharply, his voice cutting through the silence like the edge of a blade.
One of the guardians stepped forward, bowing his head slightly. "Commander Aerondrion, are you certain?" the soldier asked hesitantly. "Our orders are to—"
"Our orders," Aerondrion interrupted coldly, his tone as unyielding as steel, "are to locate Vaylen. And we will. But this mortal has wandered into our land uninvited. If she remains here, unguarded, she will become a liability we cannot afford."
His dark gaze shifted briefly to Elara, who flinched under its intensity. Despite his cold exterior, a storm brewed in his chest—a mix of curiosity and frustration. Why had this fragile mortal captivated his attention so fiercely?
Elara, still trying to regain her composure after the chaos, straightened herself, her breath uneven. "I don't want to go," she said, her voice trembling but defiant.
Aerondrion's eyes narrowed, a flicker of something almost like amusement crossing his face before it disappeared. "You don't understand the dangers of this land," he said, his tone low and commanding. "This is not your world, mortal. If you wish to live, you will follow orders."
Elara glared at him, anger and fear battling within her. "I didn't ask to be here! None of this is my fault!" she cried, her voice breaking. "And I certainly don't need you ordering me around."
Aerondrion took a slow step forward, his towering figure casting a shadow over her. His tone softened just slightly, though his authority remained unwavering. "This is not a negotiation. You've stumbled into a kingdom where your very presence is an anomaly—an unwelcome one. If you want answers, if you want to survive, you will do as I say."
Elara's lips parted to retort, but she found herself silenced by the weight of his words. There was something in his voice—a mixture of cold detachment and an unspoken sense of protection. It unnerved her and yet, somehow, it made her feel safe.
The atmosphere was tense, the air heavy with unspoken questions and emotions. The other guardians glanced at each other uneasily, unsure whether they were witnessing the beginnings of a conflict or something far more complex.
"Take her," Aerondrion repeated, turning away as if the matter was settled. His cape billowed behind him as he began walking down the road, his focus returning to the mission at hand.
Elara clenched her fists, wanting to protest but knowing she had no other option. One of the guardians approached her cautiously, his expression neutral. "Miss, if you'll come with me," he said, his tone professional but not unkind.
She hesitated, glancing back at Aerondrion's retreating figure. Something about him unsettled her—something she couldn't quite name. With a reluctant nod, she followed the guardian, her mind racing with thoughts of escape, survival, and the strange connection she felt to the man who had ordered her captivity.
As Aerondrion disappeared into the shadows ahead, his mind lingered briefly on her. There was something about the fire in her eyes, the defiance in her voice, that stirred something in him. But he quickly shoved the thought aside. There was no room for distraction. Not when the shadowed menace of Vaylen loomed over them all.
She was too overwhelmed to process anything clearly—the lingering fear, the tears she had fought back, the weight of unfamiliarity in this world. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions, unable to latch onto one coherent thought.
It wasn't until moments later that it struck her—he could understand her. Unlike the others in this strange kingdom who spoke in unintelligible words, his replies were crisp, direct, and unmistakably in her language. But even this realization felt distant, muffled beneath the storm of her exhaustion and panic.
For now, the fact that her words reached him felt secondary to the ache of her situation, the unbearable need to escape the suffocating pull of everything around her.
---
Aerondrion stood in the middle of the moonlit forest, his tall frame encased in the gleaming armor of the Guardians, accented by a deep indigo cape that rippled in the night breeze. His dark eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned the dense shadows that stretched between the towering trees. The faint glow of his enchanted blade cast a cold, silver light around him, illuminating his face—a mask of calm determination. His long hair was tied back, though a few strands escaped, falling across his strong jawline. He moved with a quiet grace, every step deliberate, his senses honed to detect the slightest disturbance.
The forest was eerily silent, the usual hum of nocturnal creatures replaced by an oppressive stillness. Aerondrion's instincts were sharp—he could feel the presence of something unnatural. The air grew colder, and the shadows seemed to shift unnaturally, bending and curling toward him like tendrils of living darkness.
Then he saw him.
Vaylen emerged from the darkness, his figure cloaked in flowing black that seemed to merge with the surrounding shadows. His eyes burned like molten silver, a stark contrast to his pale, sharp features. The orb-shaped amulet he sought hung on a chain around his neck, glowing faintly with an eerie, pulsing light. His presence carried a weight, an undeniable power that made the forest itself seem to bow before him.
"You've been following me, haven't you?" Vaylen's voice was smooth and mocking, each word dripping with disdain. The shadows around him rippled, coiling like serpents ready to strike.
Aerondrion raised his blade, the runes etched along its edge flaring with light as he spoke, his tone calm but firm. "You've trespassed into the Starlight Kingdom. You should have known this place wouldn't welcome you."
Vaylen's smirk widened. "And yet, here I am. Tell me, Aerondrion, will you be the one to stop me?"
Without warning, Vaylen moved, the shadows around him exploding into motion. Tendrils of darkness lashed out, seeking to engulf Aerondrion. He reacted instantly, his blade slicing through the air, severing the tendrils with precision. Each cut sent shadows scattering like smoke, only for them to reform moments later.
The two clashed, Aerondrion's strikes swift and deliberate, while Vaylen danced around him, his movements fluid and unpredictable. The sound of metal meeting shadow echoed through the forest, accompanied by the crackle of magical energy.
"You fight well," Vaylen remarked, his voice carrying an edge of amusement. "But you're bound by rules, by duty. That's your weakness."
Aerondrion didn't respond, his focus unyielding. He stepped forward, driving Vaylen back with a powerful strike that sent a wave of light rippling through the shadows. Vaylen hissed, the glow from the blade scorching the darkness around him.
For a moment, it seemed as though Aerondrion had the upper hand. He pressed his attack, his movements precise and unrelenting, each strike aimed to disable or disarm. But Vaylen was cunning. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned a surge of shadows that exploded between them, forcing Aerondrion to shield himself.
When the light cleared, Vaylen was gone—or so it seemed.
A sudden pain shot through Aerondrion's side as a shadow-formed blade grazed him. He stumbled but quickly regained his footing, turning to see Vaylen smirking from a distance, the shadows around him retreating.
"You're persistent," Vaylen said, his tone almost admiring. "But this is far from over."
Aerondrion held his ground, even as blood seeped through the cut in his side. His blade remained steady, the light from its runes unwavering. "Run while you can. Next time, you won't escape so easily."
Vaylen chuckled, the sound echoing unnaturally through the forest. "Next time, Aerondrion, it won't be me running."
And with that, the shadows consumed him, spiriting him away into the darkness.
Aerondrion lowered his blade, his breath heavy but steady. He pressed a hand to his side, assessing the wound—not fatal, but deep enough to remind him of the danger Vaylen posed. Despite the pain, his expression remained calm, his resolve unshaken.
He sheathed his blade and turned back toward the kingdom, his steps deliberate as the faint glow of dawn began to break through the trees. Vaylen might have escaped, but Aerondrion knew this was only the beginning.