For half an hour now, we’ve been trekking through an seemingly endless forest. Either this thicket stretches over countless kilometers, or the laws of nature in Elindros are so unnatural that new trees sprout from the ground every second. The monotonous desolation around us is suffocating, but worse still is the silence.
Since we left Solnya, Mirael and Sylas have been silent. Their faces are empty masks, their eyes fixed on the ground as if they’ve stopped truly seeing. Their steps are mechanical, as though their bodies are just going through the motions, with no real involvement from their minds. I understand them – or at least, I can guess what they’re going through. Mrs. Strömert’s beheading was a shock, an indelible image that will likely haunt Mirael for the rest of her life. The pain of such a loss, coupled with a sense of guilt, is unimaginable.
I, too, hold back from speaking. Not because I have nothing to say, but because nothing could heal this moment. My own past is riddled with scars – from the loneliness of my childhood to the forced marriage with Lord Louweris, to countless moments of suffering. But as deep as those wounds are, they pale in comparison to what Sylas and Mirael are enduring now.
The poisonous mist of Cata Sualti – the Mord Vupu – has haunted us all. During the chaotic moments of the attack, the Solniw lost so many loved ones. Who made it to the bunkers? Who was swallowed by the deadly mist? This uncertainty is like a creeping poison, digging deeper with each step. And though the world around us is eerily still, these unanswered questions echo relentlessly in my mind.
What also torments me is whether I even have the right to talk to Mirael about her feelings. Since she discovered that I was the reason for the massacre, something unspeakable has changed between us. I used to be sure that she just envied me for being close to Sylas. But now, all I see in her eyes is nothing but deep hatred – a hatred that burns like a thousand suns. Whether this hatred is directed at me because of my origins from Losnat or because of tonight’s events, I cannot tell. But one thing is certain: Mirael despises me.
I’ve always just wanted to be accepted – by anyone. But even here, in Elindros, I find no refuge. The Elindine have their reasons to hate me, and the more I think about it, the clearer it becomes that even King Mukuta probably never truly loved me. He knew I wasn’t his biological child. So why did he keep me close all these years? And Queen Mayyira... her contempt for me was never subtle. She saw me as evidence of a previous marriage and treated me like vermin she couldn’t exterminate.
I glance at my companions. They walk silently ahead, the weight of the past hours heavy on their shoulders. Then suddenly, Sylas stops. His sigh is so loud that only we can hear it. Our eyes meet for a brief moment before Mirael quickly looks away, clearly annoyed.
“We shouldn’t have left,” Sylas finally says, doubt in his voice. “My father and your father, Mirael – they will come looking for us. The village was attacked by the Sualtier, and who knows how many Solniw died! What if your father thinks you’re dead, too? Can you live with that thought?”
Mirael turns toward him with a pained expression. “My mother died before my eyes!” she hisses, visibly fighting back tears. Then her gaze lands on me – sharp as a blade. “And it’s the vessel of the Sonatius Mortaeda’s fault!”
“Stop calling her that,” Sylas says, his voice calm as he raises his hands in a placating gesture. “She didn’t know anything about her destiny until recently. She didn’t know what she meant for Elindros.”
Mirael laughs bitterly. “Will this knowledge bring my mother back? Will it put her severed head back on her neck?”
Sylas falls silent, unable to answer her questions. Amidst her despair and rage, I feel redundant – a mere cause of all this suffering, with no clue how to alleviate it. My time behind closed doors hasn’t taught me how to deal with people – let alone Elindine. My only companions were the sun by day and the moon by night. They alone witnessed how I made loneliness my companion.
Sylas seems to want to say something, but I speak before he can. My voice cuts through the tension like a knife. “Mirael, I understand.”
Her eyes blaze. “I wasn’t talking to you!”
But I won’t be deterred. “If you want to blame me for everything, then damn well talk to me about it!” I snap. “Yes, the Sualtier came to Solnya because of me. Of course I know that. And yes, I regret ever setting foot in your village. But just like you, I had no idea these Elindine would plan such an attack. I didn’t even know the Sualtier existed! Blame me, Mirael, and I’ll accept every accusation. But if you’re just trying to stop us, then you’d better turn back.”
Mirael’s anger erupts in an outburst. She charges toward me, but Sylas holds her back at the last moment. Her fury makes me tremble inwardly, but I show no sign of it.
“If you think you’re better than us, then just go!” she screams. “Why are you still here? GO!”
I shrug, turn around, and begin walking away. But before I can take another step, I feel Sylas’ hand pulling me back.
“Let it go,” I say quietly, exhausted. “Stay with her. You two belong together; you’ve known each other for years. Don’t waste that for a stranger like me. A Losniw. The vessel of the Sonatius Mortaeda. I only bring misfortune.”
“I won’t leave you, Vespera,” Sylas says firmly. He says my name in full, without shortening my name and shows me the semicircle on his palm. “You know our fate is intertwined. I swore to protect you forever, and that won’t change!”
Mirael, confused and angry, steps between us. “What does that promise mean? Why are you bound to her? Why risk your life for a Losniw?”
Sylas sighs again, a deep, tired sound that echoes in the stillness of the forest. His face remains unreadable, hard to read, even for someone who might know him better. But me? I’ve known these two Solniw for barely two days. How am I supposed to navigate the labyrinth of their emotions when they can’t even find the words to explain them to me?
“Vespera is of great importance to Elindros,” Sylas finally begins, fixing his steady gaze on Mirael. “But you are just as important to me. We grew up together, Mirael. Your mother – Mrs. Strömert – was there for me after my own mother disappeared. Her loss hit me too. Maybe not as deeply as it hit you, but it hurts me. Still, I promise you this: Vespera cannot be held responsible.”
Once again, he mentioned his mother. But now is not the time to address that topic. Mirael holds his gaze but remains silent. Seconds tick by in which the world around us seems to hold its breath. Neither she nor Sylas seem to remember that we could be hunted. Every moment we linger here brings us closer to danger. But I, too, say nothing, waiting like a spectator in a game whose rules I don’t understand.
Finally, Mirael nods. Her shoulders sag as if she’s briefly let go of the weight of hatred. She turns to me, but her gaze remains cold. “That doesn’t mean I forgive you – and certainly doesn’t mean we’re friends. But… I need your help to find the Sualtier.”
Confused, I raise an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Did you forget who they are?” Her tone is sharp, almost insulting. “The Sualtier merge with the mist. Their movements are silent, their attacks unexpected. Do you think an Elindine like me could track them down alone?"
I don’t respond. Instead, a thought creeps into my mind: I’ve never seen Mirael’s powers. Does she control water like Sylas? Or glide through the air like Zyar? Maybe her true nature will reveal itself later.
“I only want to bring peace,” I finally say, feeling the weight of my words more than ever before. “I don’t know where my journey will take me, but I promise you one thing: I will not kill to achieve my goal. I never wanted the death of your mother – or any other Solniw.”
Mirael nods curtly, an unspoken concession. Sylas audibly exhales, turns, and silently leads us onward. For a moment, I too find peace. But only for a moment.
Since our escape from Solnya, we have traversed this forest – a labyrinth of strange trees so tall their tops disappear into the darkness. Their trunks glow faintly in a silvery blue, as if they are drawing life from the earth itself. They aren’t smooth, but covered in growths that look like eyes watching us. The forest is alive. Not metaphorically, but in the truest sense of the word.
The ground beneath our feet feels soft and springy, like thick moss trying to protect us from the weight of the hatred and guilt we carry. Yet, this feeling of softness is pierced by gnarled roots that claw out of the earth, as if trying to make us stumble. Between the roots, phosphorescent plants crawl, their lights pulsing like heartbeats, their glow casting the surroundings in an eternal twilight.
We wander through narrow paths that seem to constantly change. Sometimes the trees grow so close together that we must squeeze through, their branches scratching our arms like gnarled fingers. Then, the forest suddenly opens up, and we stand in wide clearings, glowing with a mystical golden light – as if the stars themselves had fallen from the sky and were now trapped between the leaves.
The air is thick, heavy with a humid warmth that feels almost suffocating. An unfamiliar scent hangs in the air, sweet and metallic at the same time, as if the forest is enticing us – or warning us. Above us stretches a vast network of branches and leaves, so dense that the sky remains hidden. Yet, sometimes a silvery glow flashes through, a liquid light that appears more like a dream than a part of this world.
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Here and there, mists seep through the trees, shimmering and almost tangible. They seem alive, like ghosts wandering between the shadows. The cracking of branches accompanies us, a soft, endless whisper in the distance. It’s impossible to tell whether we are being followed or if the forest itself is watching us, an invisible force accompanying us step by step.
A sudden gust of wind brings movement to the surroundings. The trees groan and creak, their branches stretching out like arms reaching for us. The forest breathes, its pulse palpable in the humid air. And we? We are nothing but intruders in a world not made for us.
“How far does this forest stretch?” I ask, exhausted, as my gaze sweeps across the endless thicket. The shadows of the trees seem to shift, and a cold shiver crawls up my back. “Why can’t I shake the feeling that it’s watching us?”
Sylas pauses, his eyes glowing in the dim light. “Do you remember your encounter with Aetherion?” His voice is calm, yet carries a weight that makes me stop in my tracks. I nod hesitantly. “Before the pact Eldralith made with the Sonatius Mortaeda, Aetherion was a guardian. She protected our forests. The being who now sees you as its master was once free. Before dedicating her life to the Astralis, she spread a part of her power over Elindros to ensure that nature would endure in her absence.”
“But Aetherion never told me this,” I murmur, looking at the ancient trees, the earth beneath my feet, and the gnarled roots that stretch like veins through the soil. “She only said she was my companion through space and time.”
“That is what she is – now,” Sylas explains, his voice soft and measured. “Since she became part of the Astralis, that is her destiny. But think about how deeply nature is intertwined with us and Elindros. It’s no different in the human world – I can attest to that. I searched for you there long enough with my father. The Sonatius Mortaeda, as ancient and mysterious as it is, seems connected to Aetherion. And not only it. All the beings you’ve encountered so far are part of a larger web. A web we cannot comprehend.”
My thoughts swirl as I look at the ancient trees again. “So that means...?” I begin, but Sylas finishes my sentence.
“This breathing you feel belongs to her. Nature itself is the final proof that Aetherion was once part of our world.”
A chill runs through me. Is there a being like Aetherion in every dimension? Or is Elindros the only land blessed with such wonders?
Minutes pass without either of us speaking. The silence is heavy, almost suffocating. Mirael, who has been silently accompanying us, has not spoken a word this entire time. Her gaze is lost in the distance, her eyes seeming to see more than just the world before us. Physically, she is here, but her mind wanders to unknown places.
I finally break the silence. “Where does our path lead first?” I ask, as curious as a child, for the geography of Elindros is still foreign to me.
Sylas looks at me, his eyes serious yet full of warmth. “As you know, Solnya and Losnat are the two villages at the ends of Elindros,” he begins. “Both are surrounded by ancient, almost impenetrable forests. These forests separate them from the other villages yet connect them to one another. My father says that Aetherion created these forests as a sign of her alliance with Elindros. Solniw and Losniw, the inhabitants of these places, are opposites – light and shadow. You will also notice this in the trees of Losnat.”
He falls silent. Something in his expression keeps me from asking more. Yet inside me is a storm of questions. What is with the forest of Losnat? Are the differences so immense? I know my path will lead me there. It seems as though there is no other way.
And perhaps... that’s a good thing. For there, between the roots of this foreign land, lie the answers I seek: my origins, my destiny – and the truth about my parents.
“So that means Losnat is at the other end of Elindros?” I ask, my gaze lingering on the increasingly dense trees. It’s as if the forest is waiting for my words. Again, Sylas nods, but his expression darkens.
“How is it that the founders of the two villages – Rhovan Ardelon and Keldor Entium – were once allies, if such a distance lies between their homelands?” I ask, the question hanging over me like a shadow.
“It was King Dareth Feroy who summoned them when he learned of their powers,” Sylas explains, his voice deep and thoughtful. “He recognized their extraordinary abilities and knew they were destined to shape fate. While one perfected the weaving of thoughts, the other gained control over all the elements accessible to him. However, Rhovan Ardelon was the only one who managed to control multiple elements simultaneously. A feat no other Solniw has accomplished to this day.”
Multiple elements at once? The thought makes my heart skip a beat. I imagine Rhovan Ardelon, like a dragon, burning his enemies with a powerful stream of fire while releasing gusts of wind with one hand and summoning icy water with the other, as if he could shape the elements to his will. Perhaps it’s an exaggerated thought, but it helps me escape the moment for a brief second.
“Anyway, they were like fire and flame from the very beginning,” Sylas continues, a faint smile playing on his lips, as though he himself has a memory of those times. “You must be wondering where they came from before Solnya and Losnat even existed. It’s simple: they were part of the kingdom. There are always children whose parents can’t form a bond with them. They develop such a feeling that they want to rid themselves of their own infants. These children are left in the kingdom and cared for by special Elindine, who closely monitor their growth and development. Their bond with their families is severed, and to this day it remains a great secret entrusted only to the kings. No one knows the true origin of the founders of all the villages in Elindros.”
“But Keldor Entium had a sister!” I protest, confused. I try to picture this woman I will never meet.
“A twin sister,” Sylas corrects quietly. “Back then, the three were inseparable. Legends even say that Velris and Rhovan were in love with each other.”
“And why this betrayal then?” I ask, horrified. The thought that Velris killed her own brother sends a chill through me
Sylas looks at me with a mixture of pity and understanding. “You don’t understand much about Elindros yet, I know,” he says softly. “But to explain all of this to you, we simply don’t have the time.”
A flicker of despair overwhelms me. I can’t just wait to learn more, not when so many questions burn within me. But before I can say anything, Mirael interrupts.
“If you truly are a Losniw, you should be able to travel into the past,” she hisses. “Or isn’t that what the weaving of thoughts can do? In my opinion, this ability is far too powerful to be left unchecked.”
Her words hit me like a blow, but something inside me awakens. The weaving of thoughts… Of course! If I can develop my ability further, I might look into the past, experience the events firsthand, and uncover all the secrets surrounding Elindros’ history.
“Vespera is not yet skilled in the weaving of thoughts,” Sylas explains, undeterred by Mirael’s bitter tone. “And you know how dangerous it is to travel into the past. It carries risks no one should underestimate.”
“The weaving of thoughts is one of the most powerful - no, it is the most powerful ability in Elindros,” Mirael says softly, a hint of spite in her voice. “But using it is not without cost. The Losniw pay for the sins of their ancestors – and they will pay for a long time to come.”
I stare at her, her face shadowed with dark emotion. “Why do you hate the Losniw so much?” I ask, forcing the words out. “I understand that your ancestors could never forget the betrayal of Velris Entium. But what about you? What do today’s children have to do with it? Have they earned your hatred just because of their heritage?”
Mirael’s eyes narrow, her lips pressing into a thin line. She opens her mouth, but the words stick in her throat.
“You don’t understand anything!” she finally hisses, though her gaze betrays that my words have shaken her. “You’re still too naïve, Vespera. You have no idea what it means to pay for the sins of the past.” Her voice softens, almost inaudible. “And one day you’ll understand that the hatred you can’t comprehend right now is the only protection we have left.”
In the silence that follows Mirael’s words, I am left with a sense of suffocation. The air around us grows heavier, the shadows of the forest deepen, and I can’t help but wonder: How deeply must the Solniw have been indoctrinated with this view to shut out all other perspectives? How deep must the pain from Velris Entium’s betrayal run, that it forces entire generations to remain trapped in an eternal cycle of bitterness and hatred? What has become of all that once united us?
My gaze nervously drifts to Sylas, but he too seems lost in thought. Perhaps he’s asking himself the same question – or maybe he has already found the answers for himself. Keldor’s twin sister, Velris’ betrayal, the darkness tied to the history of Losnat and Solnya – it all seems to be forming an unsolvable knot that binds us.
“Maybe it’s not just hatred that binds us,” I finally say, almost to myself more than to the others. “Maybe it’s also the fear of the truth. Of what would happen if we started questioning the past instead of condemning it.”
Mirael only snorts disdainfully, but her eyes briefly flicker, as though she senses the truth in my words. Sylas, however, looks at me seriously, as if searching within me for an answer he himself has never voiced. The truth. The truth hidden in all the secrets of Elindros.
“The truth isn’t always what we wish for,” Sylas says quietly, almost like a warning in the wind. “And sometimes, the greatest act of strength is not to seek it. But you’re right, Vespera. We must learn to see beyond the pain of the past. Only then can we build a future that is not defined by old divisions.”
I nod slowly, though I’m not sure I truly want to go down this path. If the Losniw are indeed as cruel as I’ve been told, I may end up despising my own existence. That is the scenario I fear most.
“We shouldn’t take this path, Sylas,” Mirael suddenly says, and the sound of her words makes us freeze. A cold shiver runs down my spine as I look into the darkness of the forest before us. For a moment, time seems to stand still. We’ve only just left the forest behind, but on the other side of the fjord, the dense forest stretches on – eerie, unreachable, unless we cross the bridge.
“You’re right, forgive me,” Sylas mutters, startled, and turns around. Mirael follows him immediately, but I remain frozen, my gaze fixed on the other patch of forest. The shadows there seem to call to me.
“Vespera, are you coming?”
“Why don’t you want to take this path?” I ask, the curiosity evident in my voice. “Is there something there that could harm us?”
“No, well…” he begins, but Mirael interrupts him sharply.
“I don’t plan on dying before I’ve avenged my mother,” she hisses, and her eyes, fixed on the distant forest, flicker with a dark determination. “Regardless of how much I despise you, Vespera, I won’t let you cross that bridge.”
What danger lies beyond that even Mirael won’t let me pass? Despite my burning curiosity, which has been ignited like a fire here in Elindros, I don’t ask any further questions. In the human world where I grew up, I could never truly satisfy my insatiable thirst for knowledge. The books I occasionally received only opened a glimpse of the world in which I spent seventeen years of my life. Yet the truth is that I was never able to travel from one place to another on my own. The strict restrictions of the King and Queen always held me back, as if the world outside was beyond my reach.
But now the moment has come that I can no longer delay. To continue our journey and not lose any time, I turn to my companions. Together, we continue on our way. Back into the deep forest, which now holds a completely different meaning in my eyes. The familiar scent of the earth, the rustling of the leaves—it feels as though Aetherion is whispering something to me.
With a quick motion, I pull the Astralis from my jacket pocket, which, to my luck, I never stored anywhere else. Given the sudden decision to leave Solnya, I could have easily forgotten it. Sylas and Mirael walk side by side, silently, and I follow them, my gaze fixed on the darkness of the forest. Aetherion is firmly in my hand, as if I could protect her with that alone.
Maybe it’s not just my task to free Elindros, but also to release those who are bound to an endless fate by this old agreement? It feels as if the fate of more than just one Elindine rests in my hands—and I begin to understand that the true journey might just be beginning.