The garden was a dreamscape of serenity, bathed in the soft amber light of a setting sun that dipped below the horizon. Its warmth cascaded over the verdant expanse, setting the dew-kissed petals aglow like jewels. The gentle rustle of leaves swayed in rhythm with the melody of a distant brook, while faint bursts of luminescence flickered from the flowers that lined the cobblestone pathways.
Elara sat quietly on a weathered stone bench, her hands resting in her lap as she gazed at the mesmerizing view. The garden seemed to stretch endlessly, its edges blurring into the glowing twilight. Despite its magical beauty, she wasn't truly seeing it. Her thoughts had wandered far, back to her world—the one she had been torn away from.
Three days. That was all she had to wait before Ephrael would help her return. Relief washed over her at the thought, softening the tension that had been her constant companion since her arrival in this strange, enchanting land. Still, a pang of guilt gnawed at her. Despite her yearning to go home, she knew she would miss this place. Its magic, its allure—it felt like stepping into a storybook.
A sudden shimmer caught her eye. Before she could react, a flower bloomed before her, as if plucked from a dream. Its petals unfurled gracefully, each one a luminous blend of iridescent hues. A sweet, intoxicating fragrance wafted toward her, filling the air with an almost nostalgic warmth. Her lips parted in awe as she reached out to touch it.
"You can take it with you," a familiar voice whispered softly behind her, rich and low, yet tinged with an edge she couldn't place. "So you'll always remember the time you spent here."
She turned quickly, her gaze meeting Aerondrion's. He stood a few steps away, his figure partially shadowed by the swaying branches of a towering willow tree. The glow of the garden's light reflected in his dark eyes, which seemed to hold a strange mix of kindness and something far more enigmatic.
"Thank you," she said softly, her fingers brushing against the flower's silky petals. "It's so beautiful. Everything here is beautiful… and magical."
He stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate. "It's true," he murmured. "But perhaps I've seen it too often. To me, it's ordinary."
Elara's lips curved into a faint smile as she lowered her gaze to the flower. "It must be, for someone who's lived among such wonders his whole life."
He didn't respond immediately, his eyes lingering on her, observing the way she cradled the delicate bloom. She looked so at peace in this moment, her usual guarded expression softened by the faint hope that lit her features. Yet, beneath that hope, he sensed a fragile vulnerability—a fleeting presence that felt like it might slip through his grasp at any moment.
"I didn't mean to interrupt," Aerondrion said finally, his voice softer now. "I was passing by on my way to the training grounds and saw you sitting here. You seemed... deep in thought."
Elara met his gaze, her smile returning. "I was. But it's not a bad kind of thinking." She paused, her grip on the flower tightening slightly. "I'm just happy, I suppose. Knowing I'll be going home soon."
Her words struck him like a blade, though he kept his expression carefully neutral. "I'm glad for you," he said, though his voice betrayed the faintest edge of tension.
Elara tilted her head, studying him. "You don't sound like you are.."
He forced a faint smile, shaking his head. "Perhaps I'm only reflecting on what comes next—for all of us."
Satisfied with his answer, she turned her attention back to the flower, her fingers twirling it gently. He took a step back, his gaze lingering on her for a moment. "I'll leave you to your thoughts. Enjoy your evening, Elara."
She offered him a gentle smile. "Thank you. And good evening to you too."
Aerondrion nodded and turned, his footsteps soft against the stone path as he walked away. Yet, his thoughts swirled darkly, a storm brewing beneath the surface. He couldn't let her go—not yet. Not until he had the answers he needed. Not until he was certain the orb's mysteries were unraveled and Vaylen's threat neutralized.
Even if it meant keeping her here against her will, but he can't let her know.
His jaw tightened as he disappeared into the garden's shadows, the scent of the magical flower still lingering in the air.
---
The castle at night was a labyrinth of quiet, shimmering beauty. The halls were illuminated by an ethereal glow emanating from enchanted sconces, their soft light casting golden ripples across the polished marble floors. Grand arches framed the walkways, and intricate carvings adorned every wall—a testament to a time when artisans poured their souls into stone. Murals of battles, victories, and legends seemed to come alive under the moonlight, each one whispering stories of a realm brimming with magic.
Elara wandered aimlessly, her footsteps muffled by the plush carpets that lined some of the corridors. She wasn't sure where to go or how to pass the time. The castle was vast and intimidating, yet breathtakingly beautiful. Each corner she turned revealed something new—a gilded statue, a shimmering tapestry, or a painting so vivid it felt like the figures might step out at any moment.
Her fingers brushed lightly against the walls as she walked, tracing the fine craftsmanship. I'll paint this when I get home, she thought, a small smile gracing her lips. All of it—the halls, the lights, the statues. Every detail.
Her thoughts came to a halt as she found herself standing before a massive statue of a winged lion. Its stone wings stretched high, almost touching the vaulted ceiling. Its eyes, a vivid yellow, glowed faintly in the dim light, giving it an almost lifelike presence. She couldn't tear her gaze away, captivated by its majesty and the sheer power it radiated.
But then, a sound—no, a whisper—echoed through the empty corridor.
"Elara... You will... bring death..."
The voice was disembodied, distant yet suffocatingly close, and it sent a shiver down her spine. It was the same warning the strange woman had given her when she first arrived in this world. The words resonated inside her mind, growing louder and more relentless.
Her chest tightened, and a wave of dizziness overtook her. The walls seemed to tilt, the glow of the castle dimming as her vision blurred. She stumbled back, clutching her head as if to block out the voices. Her breathing quickened, shallow and erratic, as she tried to steady herself.
Blindly, she turned and fled, desperate to escape the suffocating whispers. Her feet carried her down a corridor, the golden light of the sconces blurring into streaks. She didn't know where she was going—she only wanted to get away.
Her frantic escape came to an abrupt halt when she collided with something—or rather, someone. A firm hand gripped her arm, steadying her before she could fall.
Dazed, Elara looked up, her breath catching in her throat. The man before her was unlike anyone she had ever seen. His hair was as white as freshly fallen snow, cascading in soft waves around his sharp, angular face. His eyes gleamed like molten gold, their intensity piercing through her. His skin, tan yet luminous, seemed to glow faintly in the dim corridor, and his long lashes framed his gaze with an almost delicate elegance. He wore white garments that shimmered faintly, as though woven from moonlight itself.
For a moment, she forgot the fear that had driven her here. She could only stare, captivated by his ethereal beauty.
He said something in a language she didn't understand, his voice deep yet melodic, tinged with an edge of irritation. Realizing she hadn't responded, he frowned slightly and released her arm, brushing his hand where he had touched her, as if ridding himself of an unpleasant feeling.
"I—I can't understand you," she managed, her voice tinged with annoyance. The memory of her arrival, and the man who had shouted at her, flared in her mind.
The stranger's golden eyes narrowed slightly, his lips curling into a faint sneer. "Apologies," he said, his tone cold and dismissive. "I'm merely surprised they've allowed a mortal to wander so freely in this castle... You are so not welcome in here."
His words stung. "Well, I didn't ask to be thrown into your stupid world," she snapped, crossing her arms defensively.
The corner of his mouth twitched, as if amused by her defiance. "The only stupid thing here," he retorted, his voice dripping with disdain, "is you roaming these halls unguarded and alone, as if you belong."
Elara's jaw tightened. "What's going to happen? It's not like anyone would dare harm me inside the great castle of the great king."
A low chuckle escaped him, soft but menacing. He took a step closer, his golden eyes glinting with something dark. "And what if I were the one to harm you?"
Her breath hitched as he continued toward her, his steps slow and deliberate. Instinctively, she backed away, her heart pounding. "Stay away from me," she said, her voice trembling despite her attempt to sound firm.
His smirk deepened as he cornered her, his presence overwhelming. The cool stone of the wall pressed against her back, trapping her. She tried to sidestep, but he was faster, his arm bracing against the wall beside her.
"What's wrong?" he murmured, his tone mocking. "Leaving so soon?"
"Don't— touch me," she stammered, anger and fear warring within her.
He leaned closer, his face mere inches from hers. The faint scent of something otherworldly clung to him, intoxicating yet unnerving. "And if I do?" he asked, his voice a silken challenge.
Elara clenched her fists, her mind racing. She hated how powerless she felt, how his beauty and arrogance seemed to overshadow everything else. "If you dare, then—"
"Then what?" he interrupted, his voice low and mocking. "You'll stop me?"
She glared at him, her lips trembling as tears pricked her eyes. His gaze flicked down to her lips, a cruel smile playing on his own.
"Pathetic," he said softly, lifting a hand to brush away the tear that slid down her cheek. His thumb lingered, tracing the softness of her lips. She recoiled at his touch, her anger bubbling to the surface.
"Remember this moment, mortal," he murmured, his voice cold and commanding. "And don't make the mistake of crossing my path again."
With that, he stepped back, his golden eyes glinting one last time before he turned and disappeared into the shadows of the corridor.
Elara remained pressed against the wall, her breath shaky and uneven. Her heart raced with anger, fear, and frustration. She hated him—hated his arrogance, his cruelty, and the way his beauty seemed to mock her even in his absence.
But most of all, she hated how powerless she had felt in that moment.