Finally, they arrived at the gates of Eldora's royal castle. It loomed before them, a fortress carved of white stone, its spires reaching skyward as if challenging the heavens. Unlike any castle Rhaine had seen before, its grandeur was almost overwhelming. Massive iron gates creaked open slowly, revealing a path lined with guards in gleaming armor. Their sharp gazes followed every movement, as though eager for the slightest provocation.
The throne room was no less daunting. Vast and opulent, its walls were gilded in gold and hung with banners bearing Eldora's crest: a roaring lion surrounded by a halo of flames. A massive chandelier glittered overhead, casting fractured light across the polished marble floor. Every corner of the room whispered of power and wealth, designed to intimidate even the most steadfast visitors.
Rhaine and Selara stood at the center of it all, their footsteps echoing as they approached the thrones.
"Your Majesties. Your Highness," Rhaine greeted with a graceful bow, Selara following her lead.
The king, a broad-shouldered man with calculating eyes, leaned forward with a practiced smile. "Saintess, we have been eagerly awaiting your arrival. Though I must admit, you grace us sooner than expected. Tell me, how fares the kingdom of Drago? I understand you have recently visited."
Rhaine straightened, her expression calm though her mind seethed. She knew full well that the struggles of Drago were the king's doing. His ceaseless attacks had drained their resources and driven their people to despair. Yet, she kept her voice steady. "The kingdom of Drago endures, Your Majesty. Though its economy is crumbling, as I am sure you already know. I trust this is the answer you sought?" Her tone was polite, but there was a faint edge of sarcasm in her words.
The queen, seated beside the king, bristled at the remark. Her eyes flashed with indignation as she snapped, "Insolence! How dare you speak so casually in the presence of the king!"
"Now, now," the king interjected, raising a hand to silence her. His smirk deepened, sending a chill through Rhaine. "Let us not begin with hostility. You are our esteemed guest, Saintess. Please, make yourself at home. Servants! Prepare a feast to honor our visitor."
Though the king's words seemed warm, his tone betrayed an undercurrent of menace. Rhaine stood still, her outward composure unwavering, but unease coiled in her chest. There was something about the king's manner—a slyness in his smile, an amusement in his tone—that unsettled her.
"But first," the king continued, his voice growing louder, "I have someone I wish for you to meet over the afternoon meal."
Rhaine's brow furrowed slightly, her curiosity piqued despite her discomfort. Who could this mysterious guest be?
"Guards!" The king's voice boomed through the chamber. "Summon the General!"
Rhaine's heart skipped a beat. Her breath hitched at the name. She had known this moment would come, yet that did not lessen the tension knotting in her chest. Kaelion.
The air in the room shifted. The guards straightened, their expressions hardening as the sound of heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor. The great doors of the throne room swung open with a thunderous crash, and the man who entered seemed to command the very air around him.
Rhaine turned slowly, almost against her will, her pulse quickening as the tension in the room grew palpable.
One second passed…
The first thing she noticed was the sheer presence he exuded—a dark force that seemed to press against her chest, making it harder to breathe.
Two seconds passed…
His armor, black as night, gleamed faintly under the chandelier's light, each plate etched with intricate patterns of fire and shadow. A small scar ran across his jawline, a testament to battles fought and survived. His gaze swept the room like a predator assessing its prey, cold and unyielding.
Three seconds passed…
Their eyes met.
It was as if the time had stopped. His piercing gaze locked onto hers, and in that moment, she felt utterly exposed, as though he could see through every layer of her carefully crafted composure.
The king's voice broke the silence, his tone tinged with amusement. "General Kaelion, allow me to introduce the Saintess of the Healers' Sect."
Kaelion's gaze lingered on her for a moment longer, his expression unreadable. Then, with a curt nod to the king, he strode forward.