How much can I truly trust these Elindine? Who could guarantee that they aren’t secretly fighting for a side that belongs in the shadows? First, I was told the Losniw would never ascend the throne, that their ancient bond with the Sonatius Mortaeda prevented it. But now, am I really supposed to believe that Eldralith herself has lied all this time?
“I don’t know if I’m ready to take in this monster within me,” I admit, my voice a soft whisper, a breath of fear. “It’s a burden that was never meant for me. My mother should have carried this weight, not me!”
“That is indeed true,” Zyar acknowledges in a calm voice, nodding. “But the Sonatius Mortaeda agreed to this shift. For now, however, I need rest. Sylas, please take Ves to her room.”
His son bows his head and gestures for me to follow him. I cast Zyar one last, thoughtful look.
At least today, I’ve learned more about the history of Elindros. The book Zyar gave me will certainly reveal further secrets. But how much of what I find within its pages will be true? In silence, I follow Sylas through the winding corridors of the manor.
Once we’ve left the garden behind, I’m enveloped by an unexpected, comforting warmth in the entryway. The garden opens directly into the living room, a space less like a grand hall and more like a hidden, forgotten chamber in an ancient fairytale castle. Dark wooden beams stretch across the ceiling, like shadowy hands offering both protection and peril.
A massive fireplace commands the western wall, but what stands out isn’t the finely carved stones resembling ancient runes—it’s the light emanating from within. The flames dance in a deep blue, almost like the water of an endless sea concealing mysterious treasures at the bottom. A hypnotic glow bathes the walls in an ethereal twilight, enveloping everything as if the room itself were enchanted. The flickering casts soft shadows on the thick carpets.
For a moment, I’m tempted to lie before this magical blue fire, to curl up with a cushion and let the stories that seem to hover in the room embrace me. But I remain standing. I can’t allow myself such rest.
Sylas leads the way along the narrow spiral staircase, which winds like an endless vortex through the heart of the manor. On each floor, an opening beckons—a portal to the secrets hidden in the upper levels.
Without warning, he pauses, turning slightly toward me and says softly, “Forgive my father, my princess. I understand that you don’t want to bear this burden.”
I hesitate, holding his gaze. “Are you even allowed to call me ‘princess’?” I speak softly, just to be safe. “As far as I know, no one is supposed to know my title or true name in the human world.”
A faint smile plays on his lips. “We are safe here,” he assures me with a look that seems to know far more. “My father is not a Grand Mage for nothing; he controls every element in Elindros. Within these walls, you are free.”
Within these walls, I am free… how interesting a choice of words.
“Still, you should call me Ves,” I reply, and he nods without further objection.
Why must my name remain hidden in Elindros? What makes my title from the human world so dangerous that I must maintain the appearance of an ordinary Elindine here? Surely, there are enough princesses in Elindros. Yet the thought that my name could attract the attention of the Elindine creeps through my mind like a shadow. Those who once murdered the founder of the Losniw—can I truly trust Sylas and his father Zyar if the possibility exists that they may be aligned with them?
“Here is your room.” Sylas opens the heavy, intricately carved wooden door, and a dense scent of roses fills the air, overwhelming me for a moment. I wrinkle my nose.
“My apologies,” murmurs Sylas, rubbing the back of his neck. “I may have gone overboard with the cleaning. This guest room had been unused for so long.”
“It’s alright.” I wave it off, stepping into the room and opening the large window, which offers a view of the Kairon. “An open window would’ve surely helped with the scent.”
He smacks his forehead and laughs softly. “How could I have forgotten the window?” He steps inside, heading toward a door on the opposite side—the bathroom, much like in the palace of my supposed father, King Mukuta.
“You’ve had a long day,” he reminds me gently. “And you’ve had to process a lot of new information. Take the time you need. If you like, you can browse the library on the upper floor later. My father will begin your training tomorrow.”
“Training?” I ask, hearing the surprise in my own voice. “Why… for what?”
A knowing smirk crosses his face. “To unlock your powers, Ves. Every Elindine possesses unique abilities. You, as a Losniw, have control over time—at least over your own.” His gaze shifts to the thick tome Zyar gave me. “In it, you’ll find the knowledge of the Losniws. If you need anything, you’ll find me around the house or in the garden.”
I nod silently, and Sylas leaves the room. His footsteps fade, and, after a long while, silence returns—that strangely familiar, ominous silence that has accompanied me for the past seventeen years. Words can barely convey how much this silence means to me. It engulfs me like a dark, quiet song that only I can hear. So much has happened since my escape from the kingdom, yet I never had even a second to myself.
Now it lies before me, this precious silence, and for the next few hours, I don’t wish to speak a single word.
I enter the bathroom first, and the cool silence envelops me like a dark veil. I turn on the water, letting it flow over my skin, warm and weightless—the water in Elindros has an otherworldly quality, as though it could wash away the burdens of the day, or perhaps it’s just my exhausted imagination.
After this soothing retreat into silence, I sit on the wide stone bench by the window, Zyar’s book in my hands. My gaze drifts to the Kairon in the lake, swimming endlessly in circles, hour after hour. I wonder if they are bound to this place, mentally or by some magic.
With a soft breath, I open the first page of the book, ready to uncover the secrets within.
----------------------------------------
The pages of this book are for Losniw eyes only. Those who do not belong to us shall be denied our knowledge. We welcome you, Losniw.
----------------------------------------
This book is no ordinary one—I sensed that, but only now does it become unmistakably clear. How could Zyar know that its contents would reveal more about the Losniws to me? Did my mother give it to him shortly before her disappearance? Did she entrust it to him? A sudden thought pierces my chest like a dagger: If it came from her, then Zyar should not have had it. Then it would be… stolen.
Even the first pages whisper secrets that enwrap me like an invisible net. The book becomes a companion, guiding me into the hidden world of the Losniws, like a guide through shadow realms waiting to reveal their truths.
----------------------------------------
The gift of the Losniws is proof of our ancient bond with Elindros. We are among the first Elindine, existing long before Keldor Entium’s founding.
Advanced Abilities of the Losniws in Memory Weaving
An Overview of Advanced Practices and Theoretical Extensions
The gift of the Losniws to “weave” the past of a place or object, making its memories visible, is one of Elindros’ most profound and symbolic powers. Beyond simply revealing past events, Losniws have the potential to advance their ability far beyond a basic understanding. The following describes eight advanced techniques and concepts available to skilled Losniws:
Layered Memories and Weavings
Losniws who have perfected their craft could reveal not only the recent past of a place or object but also learn to choose between different layers of history. Advanced practitioners might view both recent hours and centuries of an object’s history. This ability allows them to interweave events and connect them, gaining deeper historical insights.
Stolen story; please report.
Emotional Resonance
Besides visual memories, experienced Losniws can also perceive the emotional layers of a place or object. Some locations are marked by intense emotions such as joy, sorrow, or anger. By capturing these emotions in their memory weavings, Losniws gain a richer impression of events and the emotional legacy of a place, often uncovering hidden truths.
Interaction Between Memories and Elements
A fascinating possibility is linking memories with elemental magic. Memories may be bound to specific elements, their visual presence enhanced through Solniw elements. A Losniw could better “read” the memories of a shipwreck using water or reconstruct what happened during a fire with the help of fire. This ability fosters a deep connection between elemental and memory magic.
Temporary or Partial Manifestation of the Past
Especially gifted Losniws could not only make memories visible but manifest them briefly in reality. This allows others not only to see the past but also to hear or even feel it. This technique enables Losniws to selectively present details from the past to outsiders, invaluable in historical studies or investigations.
Influencing or Rewriting Memories
A rarer and more demanding extension of this ability could allow Losniws to influence or even rewrite existing memories. Losniws might “hide” certain memories or even weave in new ones that did not exist before. This power to manipulate perceptions of the past raises significant ethical and moral questions and is entrusted only to the most responsible and proven Losniws in Elindros.
Energy Consumption and Exhaustion
Memory weaving is inseparably linked to the Losniws’ lifeforce. The further back they look or the more detailed a memory they weave, the greater the mental and physical exhaustion. Only the most experienced Losniws can handle the demands of the oldest and most intense memories, and using this ability requires mindful and considerate application.
Transferring Memories to Other Persons
Masterful Losniws can make their memories accessible to others by transferring them directly into a person or object. This allows others to experience the memory as vividly as if they were there themselves. This technique is applied in historical research and investigations but could also create strong, unforgettable bonds among those involved.
Memory Weaving as Art and Ritual
The ability to weave memories also holds a deep cultural dimension in Elindros. In ceremonies and rituals, Losniws may artfully weave significant events to preserve and pass on history. They become “Guardians of Memory,” carrying knowledge of past times into the present—a role regarded with great respect and honor in society.
----------------------------------------
"The Losniws—manipulators, through and through! All these clues point to one conclusion: there can be no other explanation! That the king would have forgiven Velris, after everything she's done? Clearly, one of them must have manipulated his memories! But such power is said to be possessed only by the most skilled of the Losniw. Did Velris herself ever wield such potential? Pure speculation. But how many Losniw would it take to ensnare all of Elindros in such a lie? What possible reason would the king have to pardon the murderer of Keldor Entium? The kingdom lost one of its two most powerful guardians with his death, after all. There must be a deeper reason, something beyond my understanding. And yet—can I truly trust Zyar's words on this matter?
For centuries, the Losniw have held the Sonatius Mortaeda. And due to my mother’s selfish choice, that burden now falls on me. Yet, without someone to wield that power—where is the ancient entity now? Where has the Sonatius Mortaeda been all these years?
My thoughts circle endlessly, bringing no clear answer. But one thing is certain: the truth lies hidden in the past—and it rests in the hands of Eldralith. Yes, I've got it! If I could only strengthen my powers enough, I could weave the memories of the past myself and reach Eldralith, the long-deceased!
Resolutely, I sink into my bed, my head resting on the velvet-soft pillow, the blanket pulled protectively over me. In the human world, it was summer, but here the cold already reigns. The fire in the living room spreads its warmth through all the rooms of the house, its blue flames—unmistakably Zyar's work—casting the room in a gentle glow.
Before sleep, I lose myself in thought once again. About the man I once called my father, who now must live with my disappearance. About Isilyn, my mother, who abandoned me to this fate, and about my real father, whom I never met. Does he still live somewhere in Elindros, hidden in the shadows of my destiny? Why did my mother flee with me to the human world? And did she ever return? Since my arrival in this foreign world, the mysterious voice that once guided me has fallen silent. Was that intentional?
The deep silence of the night and the endless murmur of my thoughts eventually lull me to sleep. The next morning, I’m awakened by the soft splashing of the Kairon. I see the ceiling above me once again, just like the night before. A new day is dawning. Zyar has planned to work on my powers with me today. Surely, he wants to test how powerful the future ruler of Elindros truly is.
Wasting no time, I prepare myself and hurry to the lowest floor—but no one is there. They’re probably already in the garden. Suddenly, a bright whistle catches my attention, and I turn around, startled.
"Would you like something to eat before you start training?" Sylas asks, a friendly smile on his face. "I tried one of your human dishes. I managed to snag some strawberry jam in Duskhaven. I heard you spread it on your bread."
“What were you doing in Duskhaven?” I ask in surprise, taking a piece of bread with jam. “That’s on the other side of Velarion!”
He sips his steaming drink, which suspiciously resembles coffee. But here, in Elindros, it could be anything...
"My father and I searched for you for quite some time," Sylas admits, shaking his head, a hint of weariness in his voice. "No one in Elindros knew that the daughter of Isilyn Entium had become the princess of the human world."
“How did you even know who to look for?” I ask, the curiosity clear in my voice.
“My father simply searched for the mirror image of your mother, hoping you’d resemble her,” Sylas says with a slight shrug, as though the months-long search were nothing but a faint echo in his past. “First, we went to Lyndorn, then to Frostfels, on to Eisenfurt, and finally to Duskhaven. In the end, we decided to search the kingdom itself. So we went to Velarion. When my father saw you from afar that evening in the ballroom, he felt the same resonance around you as he once did with your mother.”
“The same… resonance?” I repeat, still grasping the meaning of his words.
Before Sylas can explain further, our conversation is abruptly interrupted—a loud clearing of the throat breaks the silence. Zyar stands in the doorway, his gaze serious and resolute.
"Your focus should be on the future, not the past," he says quietly, gesturing with his thumb over his shoulder. "It’s time to begin your training."
"Oh, forgive me if I took up a little of your precious time," I say, dripping with sarcasm, and step toward him, the impatience roiling within me. "I’ve been in this world for barely a few hours, and I’m already supposed to willingly give myself over to the Sonatius Mortaeda as its vessel, only to later take the throne of Elindros. Don’t you think I have the right to get a few answers?"
"No," Zyar responds without hesitation, his eyes cold and inscrutable. "I understand that everything is new and overwhelming for you, but we have no time for doubts."
I can hardly hide the tension in my voice as I look at him challengingly. "Zyar, what is your true goal?" I ask quietly, my words weighted like a sharp blade. "Why do you want to overthrow the king?"
"It’s not my wish to bring harm to anyone, Ves," he replies, but the calm in his voice doesn’t convince me. "The prophecy shows a different path for Elindros."
“What prophecy?” I press, my impatience now evident.
"The one that’s supposed to restore balance in Elindros," he replies, but his answer remains vague and guarded.
“Elindros is in balance!” I argue, my voice rising slightly in confusion. “The Kairon, Aetherion, and the alliance between the Losniw and the Sonatius Mortaeda—they all ensure stability.”
Zyar gives me a scrutinizing look. "Do you believe this state is truly fitting for Elindros?" he asks challengingly. “The mere fact that we know so little about the Nexari pushes us to the edge of ignorance. The problem begins there.”
I stare at him, bewildered. What does he mean by that? Isn’t it obvious that we don’t know everything? That’s precisely what makes life so… alive. Doesn’t he understand that he’ll never create a world of perfect peace?
“How do you intend to convince all the Elindine, who are loyal to King Valron Feroy, of this prophecy?” I ask, my words almost a whisper as I try to understand his intentions.
Zyar claps his hands once, as though to dispel any doubts in one decisive stroke. "Once the Sonatius Mortaeda grants you its power, all of Elindros will follow the new queen."
A hollow feeling twists in my stomach. “That feels… wrong,” I admit, my words barely more than a quiet confession.
Zyar seems oblivious to my concerns. He casts a quick, scrutinizing glance at me, then turns abruptly and steps out into the garden. With a brisk wave over his shoulder, he beckons me to follow.
“This is your fate, Ves,” Sylas says quietly behind me. I turn to him, looking at him with disappointment—he, my protector, who once swore eternal loyalty to me. “I know that much of it feels wrong, but the current situation in Elindros can only be improved by you.”
As I silently follow Zyar, Sylas’s words echo endlessly in my mind. The Astralis is in my possession. This thought alone offers me a web of escape routes: I could return to the human world or retreat into another dimension, leading a life free from the burden of this prophecy, far from Elindros. A life without burdens. But then, I remember my decision to nearly take Lord Louweris’s life—and the suspicion grips me that, here or in any foreign world, I will find no peace. I might escape myself and yet… what if I face a new destiny there, one that ultimately costs me my life? No. The only path leads forward, here in Elindros, at Zyar’s side, until I learn more about my true origins. Truth is all that remains for me.
"Stand here," Zyar commands sharply, pointing to a marked spot on the grass. His gaze brooks no argument. "Your training will take place in multiple stages. The next few days will demand everything from you. I have learned much about the teachings of the Losniw and will push you to your limits. Failure—I will not accept it."
Failure. The word echoes within me, pounding like a blow to my pride. I am to be the future queen of Elindros, and he dares to speak to me in a tone so lacking in respect? I look at the point on the grass, feeling doubt spread through me like a dark cloud. How much can I truly trust Zyar?