The door of his room slowly closed behind him with a loud, annoying creak. With a sigh, he collapsed on the stool by the wall and bent down to remove his boots.

He’d been up since dawn, and it was hours past dusk now. Calling today an eventful day would be an understatement. After speaking with Lonan, he had considered going back to talk with his mother, but he was simply too tired. His eyelids were heavy, and he could barely keep his mind focused.

Kicking his boots to the side, he stood back up, stumbled towards the large, soft bed, and collapsed onto the sheets. As soon as his head hit the soft pillows, he felt his consciousness fade.

The sound of a bell tolling echoed in the winding hallways. He could hear it clearly once, and faintly once more. His eyes were shut, and he covered his ears with his small hands. Curled up, he lay on his side on something soft.

Faint conversations sounded around him, words were spoken that he couldn’t quite hear over the tolling of the bell. It was so loud, and the lights were so bright. His heart raced, his chest rising and sinking with each shallow breath he took.

“Honey,” a woman’s voice rang. Like a glass shattering, the tolling of the bell stopped. “Can you open your eyes?”

He shook his head. What if the blue lights returned? What if he started seeing twice again? What if those plants and roots started appearing again? He covered his eyes with his hands.

“I think that’ll have to wait.” The woman let out a deep, tired sigh.

“It’s important.” Another woman’s voice rang. It was a beautiful voice, clear and gentle, yet decisive. He had never heard her voice before, but it commanded his trust. “Little child,” the angelic voice spoke. A hand rested on his shoulder. “Show me your eyes.”

His arms went limp, falling onto the sheets. His eyes shot wide open.

The vaulted ceiling was covered in vines. Large, black flowers bloomed on the intersecting arches. Sparks of black light slowly fell from the flowers, like a soft, gentle rain, only to disappear before they reached the floor. His gazer shot towards the floor. Blue flowers, exotic and beautiful covered the floor of the round chamber, glowing brightly as they bloomed.

Tears welled up in his eyes. He couldn’t shut his eyelids – they refused to move.

A woman entered his view. Her face was hidden behind a black veil.

“I see.” Her angelic voice struck his heart with fear. Why couldn’t he close his eyes?

“Can you help?” The other woman – the woman he came to call mother as the years passed – asked, her pale face twisted with worry and uncertainty. “Can he be saved?”

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The veiled woman tilted her head. “Saved? Perhaps. I can help – but it’s on him to do the work to heal.” She glanced over her shoulder at the Empress. “But are you sure you want this accursed child to live, for this cursed bloodline to continue?”

“The child is innocent.” The Empress stated sharply.

“Does it matter?” The woman asked. “Eyes so blue, so wrong, see through the unseen.” She leaned closer. “What do you see, little child? Do you see flowers and plants around us? Lights that don’t belong, and moving shapes hiding in the walls?”

His eyes shot wide open to the vaulted ceiling of his room. He saw the dreamcatcher hanging from the intersecting arches that Ilya had brought from Olisar, gently swinging with the cold breeze blowing through the open window.

He sat up, his gaze drifting towards the dark windows. It wasn’t even dawn yet.

Those were memories he hadn’t recalled in years. He rubbed his eyes, half expecting to see blood on his hands. He felt wetness, but there was no blood. Had he cried in his sleep? He shook his head, then slowly climbed out of the bed and stumbled towards the bathroom to get cleaned up.

The hallways of the Vermillion Keep were mostly empty at this time in the morning. A handful of guards patrolled the main corridors, and some servants rushed about as quietly as they could to prepare for the morning.

Making sure not to get in the way of the workers, he made his way over to the medical wing of the Keep. Lord Aulorn was still laying unconscious, and the healers were still busy trying to heal him – or wake him up, since there was no wound to heal anymore.

Out of the dozen or so healers, one stepped back as he watched, breaking off from the joint resonance they were casting. She took a moment to reorient herself, then approached him with a stern expression. “Your highness,” she bowed her head. “It’s much too early for you to be up – you suffered injuries as well and need rest.”

“Thank you for your concern, but I’m well enough to walk for a bit.” He tilted his head towards Lord Aulorn. “Is there any progress?”

She hesitated. “Not quite. His body is healthy – there are no wounds or internal injuries. It’s his mind that’s damaged.” She folded her arms as she paused for a moment. “We believe the contact of his sword against the tear may have caused his resonance to become corrupted by the other side, and essentially lash at his mind.”

“Is there a chance of recovery?”

The woman nodded. “Of course. There have been many cases of corrupted resonances harming their resonator. It takes time, but he’ll be back to normal in a few months.”

His eyes widened. Months? Did Eldoria have months to spare without the Lord Enforcer? “I see.” He summoned his courage to ask the most pressing question that lingered in his mind. “What about Alistair Orlein?”

The woman’s gaze wondered for a moment as she tried to remember. “The student? He’s in much better condition. His internal wounds were severe, but they’ve been properly healed. He lost a lot of blood though, and he had completely depleted all of his spiritual power. He needs at least a week before we wake him up just to be on the safe side.”

It was a relief to hear.

“You don’t seem too well though, my Lord.” She continued. “Perhaps you should return to your chambers and get some rest. Or we can arrange a medical check to ensure Princess Ilya’s healing did in fact heal you fully.”

Midhir shook his head. “I’m fine but thank you nonetheless.” He stepped back, “Sleep does sound good, though.”

He aimlessly walked the hallways, his mind preoccupied. Memories he’d rather forget resurfaced following that dream. He slowly made his way to the balcony adjacent to the throne room, overlooking the northern part of An’Larion.

His gaze lingered on the starry sky. The sun would soon dawn, and the city would begin waking up. He could talk to his mother about Lonan in the morning. An unpleasant thought surfaced – he needed to talk with Ilya about Arwen as well. He didn’t even know what to think of her anymore…

A flash of golden light interrupted his thoughts. His gaze snapped to the distant source of it – the edge of the river bordering the thirteenth district. The mist reared, slowly spilling towards the river as he watched wide eyed.