“That voice again!” It echoes in my mind, but where is it coming from? From which direction is it speaking to me? There’s no time for that – it must wait. First, I need to deal with these soldiers and… my father. King Mukuta looks at me, but this time it’s different. There’s no trace of disdain in his eyes, as I’m used to. Instead… fear. He fears me. But why? Why am I the villain in this story? I was forced into marriage with Lord Louweris against my will! I almost surrendered to my fate.
“Me… a traitor?” My voice trembles with disbelief as I look at the man who is supposed to be my father. “You and your queen forced me to marry a man older than yourself!”
“SILENCE!” His voice lashes through the air as he strides toward me, filled with fury.
I raise my hand as if to ward off his words. “How long will you keep me silent, Father? You’ve tried to get rid of me my whole life! You imprisoned me just to hand me over to another’s captivity! Was that always your plan?”
His hesitation is unmistakable, and in that fleeting moment, a bitter truth strikes me: The true traitor stands right in front of me. But the truth is like the wind, invisible and meaningless to those who do not wish to feel it. The royal garden stretches around us, a sea of blooming life, yet everything seems lifeless under the weight of betrayal. The courtiers and soldiers, scattered among the rose bushes and marble statues, have long chosen their side – for the royal family. And me? I am a trembling spark amid this overwhelming silence, a final glimmer in the darkness that will soon be extinguished.
“Seize the traitor”, commands the king, his voice strangely calm, almost like a gentle whisper in the warm evening air. “Lock her in the dungeon until the interrogation begins.”
Chains again, the confinement of a prison once more? How long must I live in darkness while the intrigues tighten around me?
The soldiers begin to move slowly, their steps crunching on the gravel path as they cautiously approach me. The king remains behind them, unmoving like a statue, chin held high as if he has long since decided my fate. In the twilight of the garden, I spot the queen. She stands beside Crown Prince Yula, her eyes firmly fixed on the unfolding scene. For just a moment, our gazes cross, but that moment is enough to reveal the cruel truth to me: This has all been her plan, from the very beginning.
Was it her intention to push me into marriage with Lord Louweris? Did she ensure that the hairpin was placed exactly on the nightstand where I would find it? She knew that the moment Louweris revealed his intentions, I would, in blind desperation, turn that very weapon against him. Every step, every detail – it was all orchestrated by her!
“Are you finally satisfied?” I scream at the queen, my hand trembling as I point at her. “What has a two-year-old child ever done to you that you never even gave her a chance to live?”
Queen Mayyira lets out a theatrical sigh and presses her hand to her chest as if I have personally wounded her. “This girl has gone mad!” she exclaims indignantly, her voice soaked in feigned outrage. “How could we allow such a monster within the walls of our castle?”
My words bounce off her like arrows off a steel armor. My sorrow, my pain – none of it reaches her. This woman, with her icy, black heart, has destroyed the innocence of a child without a moment’s hesitation.
“What are you waiting for?!” the king bellows with growing impatience. “Seize the traitor! Or does anyone dare to defy my orders?”
The soldiers close in relentlessly, their heavy and menacing steps on the gravel beneath my feet. In seconds, I am surrounded, a circle of blades and armor from which there is no escape. Behind me rises the tall fence that separates the land from the water – an insurmountable barrier. Climbing is impossible, and even if I could swim across the sea, the soldiers on the other shore would be waiting for me.
The wind carries the saltwater from the nearby ocean to me, and I realize: This could be my last breath of freedom.
But how am I ever to achieve that? My thoughts drift uncontrollably back to that figure from the last night. It floated freely amid the storm, carefree like a shadow, and in that moment, I felt only one thing: envy. How I wished to be in its place, far away from all these invisible chains that bind me.
Yet neither it nor the mysterious voice is by my side now. It was the burning desire for freedom that led me here – back into the cold hands of the king, who is willing to sacrifice his own daughter’s happiness just to bring a smile to his queen’s face.
Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, the soldiers freeze. Their faces contort with fear, eyes wide open as if they have seen something incomprehensible. Almost as if seized by an invisible terror that grips their hearts and shatters their courage like fine glass, they remain motionless.
I feel a hand, icy and unexpected, resting on my shoulder. A shock surges through my body, and I turn abruptly. Behind me stands a figure cloaked in black, the hood pulled deep into their face, making it impossible to discern their features. Yet just their presence makes the air around me heavy and threatening. Whoever they are – this figure brings fear with them like a shadow that swallows every hope.
The stranger yanks back and firmly grasps my shoulder, pulling me off balance. The ground beneath me wavers, and the fence looms ominously close to my face. For a tormenting moment, I am sure my next breath will be my last, for the impact seems inevitable. But then, the impossible happens: My body slips through the fence as if it were air. Suddenly, I am hovering over the water, the world tilting beneath me as the cold ocean spreads out directly below my feet.
“Where has she gone?!” The king roars in fury, his voice slicing through the air. “Does anyone know this stranger? Who are they, and how did they accomplish this?”
But no answer comes. Confusion mirrors on the faces of the soldiers, their heads shaking in bewilderment. I dare to glance forward. The unknown person stares at me, their eyes barely visible beneath the deep hood. Who are they? Friend or foe? My lips remain silent, for the truth eludes me at this moment. Though I’m not sure, the feeling presses upon me that they must be the one from the last night. But fear compels me to maintain my cool.
Without a word, they pull me across the water’s surface as if it were solid ground. The cold water seeps through my feet, a shock to my body – and yet… it feels wonderful. All those years of this freedom being denied to me. The water gently touching me now is different from the cold baths of the palace. It is alive; it is freedom.
Seconds pass before the mainland is nothing but a distant shadow on the horizon. Only now do I become aware of the eerie silence – a silence that for the first time does not comfort me. It weighs heavily on my chest, as if it were crushing me with an invisible burden.
The hooded stranger suddenly comes to a halt. My heart skips a beat as another figure appears behind him—materializing as if from thin air. Just a moment ago, this second stranger was not there. He is taller, more imposing. How long has he been here? How long has he been watching us?
The two men stand side by side, wordless, their movements synchronized, as if they have practiced this countless times. In a single, fluid moment, they draw back their hoods. My breath catches, my eyes widen in disbelief, and I begin to stutter, unable to comprehend the obvious.
“We’re sorry we didn’t inform you sooner, Princess”. Lord Velqorin speaks, his voice heavy with guilt. He barely dares to look me in the eye.
“We only wanted to ensure your safety”, Sylas adds softly, his words nearly lost in the wind.
My fingers tremble as I uncertainly gesture toward the two men, who until recently had appeared to me as mere mortals. Now, everything I thought I knew seems to crumble.
“But… how?” I ask, my voice shaky and laced with confusion. My mind desperately searches for a logical explanation, for some trace of normalcy in this chaos.
But the truth is unbearable. The voice that has accompanied me since childhood cannot belong to them. But how did they know they would find me right here?
“This is not the right place”, Velqorin confesses quietly as his hand slips into his cloak pocket and brings forth a small, shimmering sphere. Its gentle glow breaks the darkness. “It’s time for you to return home.”
“Lord Velqorin, you...” I begin, but he calmly raises his hand, his eyes sharp and unyielding.
“I am no lord”, he corrects me with a cool firmness. “And you are no longer a princess. In the place we will take you, you must not speak of the human world.”
The human world? His words hit me like a blow. What does he mean? Will he lead me to another dimension? A whirlwind of questions shoots through my mind, my thoughts reeling. Can I trust these two men? What if they lead me to something dangerous?
“How can I be sure you are on my side?” I ask, doubt heavy in my voice.
But deep inside, I know my mistrust means nothing. These men carry powers that exceed my imagination. With a mere gesture, I could be forced to follow them blindly—or worse, my life could end in an instant. And yet, they keep me alive. Why?
Then Sylas suddenly kneels before me, his voice serious and penetrating: “I swear you my eternal loyalty.” His eyes gleam in the shadows, and his words carry the weight of a promise that runs deeper. “Princess Vespera, I, Sylas Velqorin, son of the great mage Zyar Velqorin, hereby swear to serve you and protect you with my life until my last breath.”
Before I can react, something incomprehensible occurs. Blood-red threads pour forth from his chest, pulsating and alive, as if they are flowing directly from his heart. Thorns that resemble blood vines twist over the ground, and in places, blood drips into the still water below. Sylas remains motionless, as if petrified, as if his body is freezing under the spell of this dark magic.
“He offers you a blood bond”, Zyar explains in a calm voice that carries ancient knowledge. “If you accept him as your protector, you need only respond with a yes. Then he will stand for you with his life.”
I look at Sylas, who kneels before me, his hand pressed to his chest as if he is ripping the vow from his very heart. He has lied to me, from the very beginning, knowing exactly who I am when the queen spoke my true name. And yet… there is something in him, something familiar that I cannot ignore.
“I, Princess Vespera Valdyris, daughter of King Mukuta Valdyris...” I begin, but suddenly, lightning flickers along the thorn vines, and the air crackles ominously. The energy crawls through the air as if it is about to burst into flames at any moment.
“You must speak your true name”, Zyar interrupts, his voice almost ominous. I blink, looking up at him, my eyes narrowed. “You are Vespera Entium, daughter of Isilyn Entium, from the realm of Losniw, rightful claimant to the throne of Elindros.”
The words echo in the air as the truth falls upon me like a storm, my heart racing and the weight of my true identity hovering over me.
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I am to be the rightful claimant to the throne of Elindros?
The words resonate in my mind, heavy like a burden that I can hardly comprehend. Zyar observes me with cool composure, his voice muted but serious.
“To begin with, this is very serious information”, he admits, casting a quick glance at Sylas. “But my son awaits your decision. The pain of this blood bond is immeasurable. Do not let him suffer needlessly.”
I nod, but inside, I am a chaos of doubt and fear. My eyes rest on Sylas. This young man, whom I met only a few hours ago, and yet… this connection feels so deep, so inevitable. Something in me knows it is tied to Elindros. My heart has long recognized the truth: I never truly belonged in this world.
With a trembling voice, I speak the words that will change everything. “I, Vespera Entium, daughter of Isilyn Entium, from the realm of Losniw, rightful claimant to the throne of Elindros, accept.”
Barely have I spoken the last word when I feel the thorns piercing deep into my chest. A gasp escapes me as my eyes widen in shock and pain. I look pleadingly at Zyar, but his gaze remains cold, unmoved. To him, this ritual is routine. In his eyes, I see nothing but quiet curiosity, no surprise, no concern. Should I find that reassuring?
But before I can think longer about it, the pain explodes within my body. The thorns begin to pulsate as if they carry life within them. Suddenly, I am seized by a wave of electric jolts, deep and relentless, as if they are tearing apart my very being. My breath catches, and I fight against the urge to scream. Every heartbeat feels like it brings me closer to the abyss.
Sylas, however, remains still. No movement, no flinching. Either he feels no pain—or he endures it with a strength I cannot comprehend.
“THIS HAS TO STOP!” I scream desperately within myself, but my body remains paralyzed.
A cry presses at my lips, but nothing but silence escapes. The agony that tears me apart feels like an eternity, yet barely seconds have passed. The thorns finally retract, back into Sylas’s chest, and he rises in silent calm. His gaze is serious and penetrating, as if he is perceiving my innermost self. Without a word, he takes my hand in his, and automatically my eyes wander to our intertwined palms.
“As your protector, I bear the semicircle symbol”, he says, his gaze resting on my palm. “It represents my imperfection. Your symbol, Princess, is a completed circle—it signifies your perfection. My life now belongs to you.”
His words sound like a solemn oath, and in his eyes, there is something I cannot grasp. A look that speaks of pride where fear should be. Why would a stranger sacrifice his life for me, die for me, live for me?
“Your connection runs deeper than you realize; it reaches into a distant past”, Zyar Velqorin explains, his voice calm and knowing. He lifts the small sphere in his hand, the mysterious object he had retrieved earlier. “The Astralis will guide us to our first destination: the village of Solnya.”
The village of Solnya? Astralis? The terms swirl in my mind, threatening to overwhelm me. Everything is new, foreign, and my mind struggles to process the flood of information. Then Zyar lets go of the sphere—just like that—it glides from his hand. For a moment, I think it will shatter, and I instinctively rush forward. But to my astonishment, it hovers, suspended over the water as if held by invisible forces.
“What is that…?” I whisper, my voice barely audible in wonder.
But before I can ask further, the Astralis suddenly begins to shine brightly, a blinding light that forces me to look away. Even though my eyes can’t see, my ears perceive everything. The ground beneath me starts to tremble—no, not the ground. The water! I feel the waves rising, salty droplets splashing against my legs, soaking my pants to the knees.
The light gradually fades, and when I look forward again, I see it: a gigantic metallic gate, appearing out of nowhere, stands before me. It is immense, so large that I would have to step back several meters to take in its full majesty. Various symbols adorn it, each seems to tell its own story—stories I long to learn. Behind it lies a world that is meant for me, a world where I might finally find my place.
“Before we enter”, Zyar says, letting the Astralis sink back into his hand, “There is a power in Elindros, a formidable force. Many Elindine fear it, while some strive for it.”
His words carry a weight that I can hardly grasp.
“Why are you telling me this?” I ask, my head spinning with questions.
What am I supposed to do with this information? Who could be stronger than Sylas and his father, the powerful great mage? The thought alone seems absurd, yet—why does he speak of this power when I have no idea what it means? Is he trying to warn me? To deter me from going through the gate? But why did he bring me here at all?
Zyar’s gaze remains inscrutable, yet his silence speaks volumes.
Does he know little about it himself? What is the true reason for his silence? I never would have thought that a man who single-handedly defeated an entire army could show such restraint. Is he truly that cowardly, or is there a deeper truth hidden behind his silence?
“As soon as we reach the village of Solniw, I will reveal everything to you”, Zyar finally promises, raising the Astralis toward the gate. His voice sounds determined, yet the secrets weigh heavily on us. “Until then, you must trust us blindly. The Nexari will test you.”
“The Nexari?” My eyes follow the great mage’s gaze to the gate, which looms like a threatening abyss before me.
“The interdimensional realm”, Sylas responds, his words quiet but echoing within me. “No Elindine knows the beginning or the end of the Nexari. There, ancient laws prevail. My father and I have encountered the Synnx—beings that exist beyond our understanding.”
“Synnx?” The name sounds strange and dark. “Are they Elindine?”
“No one knows where the inhabitants of the Nexari come from”, Sylas says, shrugging slightly, as if this ignorance unsettles him. “But one thing you must know: Avoid any eye contact. You must not look them in the eyes longer than necessary.”
“Why should I even engage with such strange beings?” I ask, feeling my uncertainty deepen.
My brows furrow as I try to make sense of these new pieces of information.
“It will be a trial”, Sylas says. “Trust me—resist the urge.”
“It is time”, Zyar interrupts, quickly ending the discussion as the Astralis begins to glow.
This time, the light is gentle, like a promise vibrating deep in my bones. The massive gates swing open with a thunderous noise that echoes in the silence, sealing the fate that awaits me beyond their threshold.
I gaze wide-eyed at the spectacle, my throat dry, my heart racing. Sylas extends his hand to me, his smile a hint of something I cannot name.
“Once we pass through these gates, you will no longer be Princess Vespera”, he says calmly, his words full of unspoken significance. “From this moment on, all titles will fall away. You will be known only as Ves.”
“Ves…” I repeat the word, as if it carries me into a new existence. “I like that better.” I take his hand, feeling the warmth radiating from him. “I owe you my life. You freed me from the darkness.”
Sylas kneels before me again, as if he has never known another way. “It is our duty; my life belongs to you. I will stand by your side until my last breath leaves my body.”
A strange tingling sensation washes over me as his words penetrate deep within my being. Yet I feel that these are not romantic vows. Sylas feels bound to me—by something older than both of us.
The knowledge that Sylas will protect me at all costs in this place he knows so well eases my transition into another dimension—the Nexari. A sense of confidence flows through me as Zyar steps through the gate first. What lies beyond remains hidden from the outside. My heart pounds, and I wish I could see what awaits me on the other side of this threshold. Yet instead, my gaze captures only a shimmering display of colors that gives the impression of safety, as if the Nexari is a refuge.
“I understand your fear”, Sylas’s voice echoes, pulling me from the depths of my thoughts. “But for all these years, freedom has been calling to you. This gate is the first step in the right direction.”
My eyes follow his outstretched finger pointing to the mysterious portal—the gate to the Nexari, that interworld that separates the human realm from Elindros. And though a shiver runs down my spine, I recognize the truth in his words. The freedom I have longed for is now within reach. My fears must no longer keep me from uncovering the mystery of my own existence.
With a deep breath, I step into the Nexari, side by side with Sylas. His hand rests firmly yet gently on my shoulder, a sign of his eternal protection, ready to fend off any hostile attack. In his presence, I do not feel as desecrated as I always did in the company of Lord Louweris.
No sooner have we crossed the threshold than we are met by a biting cold, like whips that mercilessly lash against my skin. The unexpected scent of magnolias mingles with the frosty air, bringing a strange sense of calm amid this bizarre scenery—a contradiction that confuses my senses but also feels oddly comforting.
“Finally…”
The voice that led me into the royal gardens sounds here in the Nexari stronger, more intense, as if it were nourished by the deepest roots of this secret place. Its presence seeps into my thoughts, so familiar and yet so foreign, like an echo that comes from a world beyond my perception. If it has followed me this far, then it must be connected to Elindros. I am sure of that. But besides me, it seems no one else can hear it, no one feels its presence. So I remain silent. For now.
Because I know that time will soon lead me back to this moment, back to the truth that lies deep beneath the surface. Something within me senses an invisible line pulling me toward this voice and Sylas, as if both threads of fate were intertwined. Whether they truly are remains to be seen.
“Don’t forget my words… Ves”, Sylas says quietly, hesitating over my name as if it were heavy as a curse.
I am surprised that my title is so important to him. He has known me for only a few hours, yet it seems the correct form of address holds immense significance for him. But he does not belong to the world of humans. He is not a subject of my father, and I am not his princess. Yet the bond of blood that ties me to Sylas has rejected any kinship to my father.
These thoughts must not distract my attention from what is important at the moment. According to Sylas, the Nexari holds great danger. Additionally, there has been talk of a trial. This must mean that this place tests every traveler. But for what purpose?
As I step into the Nexari for the first time, I am overwhelmed by a sight I cannot put into words. Everything around me is... different. The sky—if it can be called that—stretches like a massive shimmer of supernatural colors above me. It is not blue or gray but a pulsating band of liquid gold, deep violet, and a green that almost seems alive. It moves as if it breathes, as if the sky itself is a kind of being. There are no clouds, only fleeting shapes drifting through the light, distorted and never stable.
The ground beneath my feet is neither firm nor soft—it feels as though it constantly shifts between liquid glass and a dense fog. With every step, fine waves emerge, shooting in all directions only to vanish silently. The colors down below are not like those on Earth: deep, glowing shades of red that transition into a vivid turquoise as if they refuse to remain static.
Before me rise strange formations that could resemble trees, but they are not. Their trunks twist spirally upward, made of a material that resembles molten stone, yet is also translucent. The branches do not extend straight but flow like dripping water, and their leaves—if they can even be called leaves—consist of countless floating shards of light that rearrange themselves with the slightest movement of air. They shimmer in a light so intense that it almost hurts, yet I cannot take my eyes off them.
In the distance, I see structures that resemble mountains, but they are neither steep nor massive. They seem more like enormous waves frozen in motion, as if they had risen from the ground eons ago and then remained in a strange standstill. Their material is not stone, but something that looks like crystalline light reflecting every color of the sky.
There is no clear horizon. The vastness merges with the sky and the shapes, and everything seems to connect with one another. Nothing remains constant—everything changes as if it is in an eternal flow, yet in a way that does not seem chaotic, but… intentional. Time feels different here, as if it flows more slowly or even stands still.
A feeling of awe washes over me as I realize: This is not a place that can be comprehended. It is alive, constantly changing, and there is no point at which I could say, “Here it begins or ends.” The Nexari is not a world like ours—it is an existence that defies all logic.
“Breathtaking…” I whisper in awe. “How beautiful the Nexari is.”
Everything around me is a perfect harmony of impossibilities, a play of things that defy the laws of nature yet find a disturbing logic in this in-between dimension. And yet—or perhaps because of this—a strange feeling of familiarity envelops me, as if I belong here, as if the Nexari is welcoming me.
“Do not be deceived by its beauty”, Zyar interrupts my thoughts, his eyes alert, observing every movement around us. “The Nexari shows each traveler a different face. That we all share this sight at the moment means only one thing: This place wants to impress you.”
“The Nexari… wants to impress me?” Confusion weaves through my voice. How could a place that does not live consciously attempt to please me?
Zyar’s gaze narrows. “Because this place is alive”, he says softly, almost imploringly. “The Astralis shows us the way, but the Nexari is a being that thinks, that feels. You must not let its beauty blind you. It is deceptive. And those who dwell here…” He pauses, his gaze drifting into the distance. “…are no allies. Do not trust them.”
A shiver runs down my spine. Zyar’s words nestle within me, instilling a quiet unease in my heart. What if what I see is only an illusion? A construct meant to lull me into safety? If the Nexari presents itself differently to each person, what is its true form?
Even as I ponder this, I suddenly bump into something hard, an invisible barrier. Dazed, I rub my head, completely confused.
Before I can react, Sylas steps beside me, his hand gripping my arm and pulling me back sharply. With a fluid motion, he drwas a strange object that transforms into a sword in his hand, shimmering and dangerous.
“Stay close to me”, he murmurs.
His eyes are sharp, as if he sees something that eludes me. And in that moment, I realize: Here, in this dimension, nothing is as it seems.