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Tessia Eralith

The Royal Palace in Zestier was clean.

I’d always known this, even when I was young. Every inch and corner of the Royal Suites was kept free of dust and debris, each spot almost sparkling with reflected light. A subtle floral scent pervaded the entire complex, lending an aura of relaxation and pristine perfection I’d seen nowhere else.

And now that I’d been sent back to this place, all those little details felt so much more obvious.

It’s these little things I’m noticing now, I thought as I stepped out of the bath, water streaming off me. The private baths in the Royal Palace were connected directly to a natural spring, creating an air of wonder that filled the small chamber. Even the water seemed a bit too crystal-clear as it dripped onto the stones beneath me.

I casually stretched out an arm in silent command to a nearby maid–an elven woman who had served the royal family of Elenoir since before I was born. Anea Asyphin strode over quickly, proffering a towel out to me.

I gave the maid a subtle nod of respect as she averted her eyes with a bow, as was befitting our differing social stations. With the ease of long-practiced grace, I threaded the towel around my bare body, already missing the warmth of the baths.

“My Lady, would you like for me to prepare your dress for the day?” Anea asked in a subservient tone, still bowing with her eyes locked on the stones.

I resisted the urge to sigh, instead maintaining the delicate mask of the Princess of Elenoir. “No, Anea. That won’t be necessary. I will tend to my own dress and clothing,” I said calmly.

Anea nodded slightly, her gray-streaked hair more prominent in the low light of the bath chamber. “If you ever wish for it, we live to serve at your command,” she said demurely, before backing away.

I watched her go with complicated emotions warring in my stomach. Before I’d gone off to war, Anea had tended to nearly every one of my needs. Warming the water for my baths, preparing my dress and clothing for the day, and presenting my meals.

But then I’d waded deep in the mud of the battlefield. As part of the Trailblazer Division, I hadn’t been afforded the luxuries of a princess. If I wanted a bath, I needed to go find a stream myself and pull the water. If I wanted to eat, I could either take the horrid rations provided or hunt for myself. And whenever my clothes were damaged or torn, there were no seamstresses waiting on me to sew them up in a split-second.

And now I was back in Zestier, living the high life once again. But for some reason, it didn’t feel that way.

These thoughts and more occupied my mind as I strode gracefully into the changing room. I found simple pleasure in choosing my clothing for the day–an elegant dress that accentuated all the features I bore in shades of dark green and silver. Yet unlike most dresses, the leggings of this one were long and designed for freedom of movement.

I stared down at the dress with a furrowed brow. I’d always loved the designs of elegant clothes and lavish attire that my position afforded me, but now I couldn’t simply wear them anymore. Not without subtle assurances like this–that I could always be ready to fight and defend myself at any time.

“I can’t just be a rose,” I murmured, running my hands along the expensive silk, no doubt worth more than most commoners could afford in their lifetime. “I need to have thorns, too.”

But by being shipped back here–back into the heart of my kingdom and the very place I’d grown up as a child–my thorns had been stripped from me. Grandpa had promised me–gave his word–that I could fight for my continent. That I could make a difference in this war.

My hands clenched involuntarily around the dress as bitter anger surged through my veins. The betrayal stung something so deep inside of me, tore at something I never knew could be torn.

Grandpa had always, always kept his word. He’d never gone back on it; not in the entirety of my upbringing. In a world of uncertainty and changing circumstances, that was the one thing I knew I could rely on. Grandpa would always come through for me.

Mana twisted in my core as tears threatened to escape the corners of my eyes. It wasn’t fair. I’d worked so hard, proved myself to everyone around me. That was why I was the head of a unit! Because I’d proven I wasn’t just a pretty princess, damned to sit around a palace all day and be tended to like a glass sculpture!

I blinked in surprise as I felt a familiar sensation brush against my mind, my downward spiral of emotions petering out as a cool balm, like fresh spring water, eased across my thoughts.

The source was easy to find.

My Elderwood Guardian Will? I thought with surprise, noting the cool brush of its touch. Like water being tossed on a red-hot iron, I felt my emotions cool slightly as the will continued to try and… soothe me?

I sniffled slightly, exhaling as my thoughts finally settled back under control. I wiped away the single tear that had managed to escape from my eye.

My Beast Will had changed after whatever Toren Daen had done. Before, it hadn’t really felt evil–but it was always heavy. Like there was a weight to every action and quiet anger surging through every utilization of it. If I wasn’t careful, I could very easily lose control of myself as the aggressive nature took hold.

But now, that weight was lifted, for lack of a better term. In fact, the Beast Will in my core felt lighter than the clouds in the sky. And though I hadn’t had much time to really inspect what was different, the sentience of the power was far more kind.

“Thank you,” I said quietly, unsure if my words would be understood.

I didn’t exactly get a response, just a bit more cool nectar flooding my thoughts before my Beast Will retreated fully back into its slumber.

With another minute to compose myself, I slotted myself back into the role of the Princess of Elenoir. I had faced beasts far worse than just palace maids and people wanting to tend to me. I could do this.

—

Breakfast was a dull affair. I sat demurely in a tall seat at the table I’d always occupied all throughout my youth as attendants brought out steaming dishes and succulent fruits.

In the flying castle, the meals were always prepared with the expectation that there would be leftovers. The humans ate without true care for scarcity, even when they were holed up in a floating fortress. I remembered seeing heaps of plates and expensive delicacies being brought to the waiting nobles during feasts.

But in Elenoir, we learned to always be aware of what we had. Large-scale farming was difficult with the mists pervading the entirety of Elshire, blocking out sunlight and strangling any attempt at agriculture. The elven population relied on nature-deviant mages to artificially enhance the growth of our crops, alongside regular hunting and trade from the adventurers in the Beast Glades.

That all showed in how I was served. Each portion was moderately sized, cut and served with exacting efficiency. Smoked slices of drowthorn elk meat sat placidly beside savory vegetables, but there was neither too much nor too little of both. If I finished my plate of food, another helping of similar portions would be brought to me.

I exhaled a long sigh, pushing the vegetables around in a slow circle with a fork. The florets of broccoli rolled languidly in the exquisite sauce, but no matter how much the savory aroma of the dressing brushed tantalizingly against my nose, I couldn’t bring myself to take a bite.

“My Lady,” a concerned voice said from the side, “forgive the impudence, but you must eat. It is imperative that you keep up your health,” Anea said, giving me a worried look from where she stood a few feet away.

My vision flashed, and suddenly it wasn’t a piece of broccoli I was moving around on my plate, but the head of a mana beast. The illusion of my mind lasted only a moment, but already my fork gored through the flesh of the creature.

And then it was just food again, my fork scraping against the bottom of my plate in a grating sound.

I gnashed my teeth, feeling my restlessness build in my core again as I struggled not to glare at the innocent plate of food in front of me. “I’m going for a walk,” I said sternly, standing slowly and pushing away from the table–all with the proper etiquette required of a princess, of course.

Anea blinked, then bowed again with a slight slump to her shoulders as she no doubt realized she couldn’t force me to do anything. I strode away before she could say anything else, and I could, unfortunately, sense my hidden protectors as they shifted to follow me.

I struggled not to march through the palace as I made my way toward the gardens, feeling like the walls inched closer and closer with every step I took. As a mid-silver core mage, the palace guards my parents had assigned as protection to me couldn’t hide their mana signatures even as they kept a fair distance.

It didn’t take me long to stride from the personal quarters of the Royal Family to the solid wood doors that opened into the gardens. After all, it wasn’t uncommon for the past monarchs of Elenoir to have their breakfasts in the calm solitude of the Royal Gardens.

With a huff, I pushed open the solid doors, rays of sunlight barely peeking through as I stepped into the cool grass.

It was peaceful outside. Amazingly so. The shoreblossoms grinned in an inviting shade of pale blue, dotting the small hills of the wall-enclosed space. All around me, different shades of spring sang their tunes to the sky.

And as I looked up, I felt a bit of my tension quietly release. Even in the early rays of morning sun, the ribbons of the Aurora Constellate were still ever-so-faintly visible.

When was the last time I was able to just watch the Constellate? I wondered absently, tracing the stretching path of one particular ribbon.

The Aurora Constellate would be visible all across Dicathen for the next few days–and somehow, I’d entirely forgotten.

It was that time I visited Art’s family, I thought mournfully. The last time I ever watched the Constellate. Right before the attack on Xyrus Academy. Before everything changed.

That brought up bad memories. The subtle calm I’d built up from standing in the shade and drinking in the morning air all but evaporated as I remembered Xyrus.

Where I’d been powerless. Helpless to stop any of my friends and classmates from being cut down by Alacryan soldiers and corrupted mana beasts. Relegated to a damsel in distress, where someone else had to save me.

My hands clenched at my sides as I imagined Caria, Stannard, and Darvus out there somewhere, fighting Alacryans and corrupted beasts. I knew they could handle themselves, and knew my teammates were among the best Dicathen could offer. But as the remembered scent of smoke tickled my nose–the only thing I could recall from the entirety of the Xyrus Academy attack–I couldn’t help but imagine the bodies of my friends being reported to me.

I couldn’t even visualize their fall in battle. Couldn’t even conceive it–because that was how deaths were always reported to the “Princess of Elenoir.” Theodore, Doradrea, and dozens more students and friends I’d known personally had died around me at Xyrus, and I could do nothing. So the only image I could conjure in my mind’s eye was a reluctant servant delivering a sealed letter, the names of those I cared for scribbled haphazardly inside.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

I can’t stay here, I realized. I’ll go mad. I can’t just let them all fight for this continent without me, die for this continent without me!

But even as a plan solidified in my mind, I realized that I didn’t have a way out of this. The mages watching me were far too powerful to escape from with normal methods. Anything I did would draw attention, and if I wanted to leave undetected, I could only hope to do so through subterfuge.

My lips pulled into a thin line as I stood there, contemplating the best way to escape the palace. The north exit was likely the most scrutinized, so that was a no-go. Most people would recognize me if I tried to blend in normally, but–

My thoughts slowed to a crawl as a presence within me shifted, spreading outward like creeping moss. I looked inward, feeling surprised for the second time that day as my Elderwood Guardian Will subtly pressed on the edges of my core. It couldn’t convey much, but I could tell it wanted to be pulled to the surface.

The presence shifted slightly, and I thought I could feel annoyance. Or maybe amusement?

“What was it I thought,” I whispered, just under my breath, “that made you upset?”

Nothing more. I furrowed my brow, feeling the pulsing insistence. It didn’t feel malevolent: not like it had when I’d first been working through my assimilation. Yet still, I hesitated for a moment, thinking of that dark power Spellsong had extracted from my core. Phantom pain surged through my sternum at the memory, making me shift nervously in the grass.

It couldn’t hurt me, I was sure, but–

That annoyance again. And the reason it–

Again.

I felt my eyes widen in realization as I finally pinpointed what thoughts were causing such a reaction in my Beast Will.

“You’re not an ‘it’ at all, are you?” I said quietly, my attention inward. “You’re a… she?”

A happy response–like the blooming of a flower after a season of rain–spread from my core. I’d have to take that as a yes.

I didn’t know why, but that last realization cemented what I was going to do next. With a deep breath, I engaged the First Phase of my Beast Will, welcoming those stretching vines of energy as they spread across my mana channels.

Almost immediately, I felt the difference. An aura of purest emerald shimmered around me, and I felt like I could sense every plant in a fifty-meter radius. But I gasped at the awareness that spread through me.

The elves of Elenoir were uniquely gifted with the ability to peer through the unnatural mist of the Elshire Forest without obstruction, something that was beyond valuable in our ability to maintain our borders against the Alacryans and humans that plagued us of age.

But now, as the mist swirled and twisted, it was almost as if the ethereal vapor was an extension of myself. Everywhere I looked, it felt like I could see farther, hear more distinctly, feel more acutely.

I gasped in awe as these new sensations poked at the edges of my mind. My ears twitched as a junebug—nearly at the very end of the gardens–shifted on a blade of grass. And despite making practically no sound, I still could hear it.

This is what you wanted to show me, I thought in amazement, the Aurora Constellate suddenly crystal clear far above, isn’t it?

My Elderwood Guardian Will could only give me vague impressions, but I got the sense she was pleased.

But already, I could feel my protectors—or more accurately, my prison guards—rushing toward me, no doubt sensing my activation of my Beast Will. Slight panic rose in my stomach, but that was quickly squashed by a flood of determination.

I reached out my hands, acting on the instincts provided through my Beast Will, and the mist shifted. It twisted and swirled, spinning around me like a cocoon. The touch of the vapor was soft and cool as it enveloped my body, making the silver frills of my dark green dress flare as my hair slowly fanned out.

I watched as my hidden protectors finally emerged from their hiding spots, their mana rampant as they stared at me. I recognized one, at least: Albold Chaffer.

And then I was covered in fog. The elven guards cried out in alarm as I was entirely subsumed by twisting mist, and I realized with a start that they couldn’t see through it.

I restrained a laugh as I slowly backed away, the large dome of swirling mist expanding in ripples as I edged toward the corners of the gardens. The guards stared, utterly perplexed by the wall of water vapor blocking their way.

Except for one. Albold Chaffer—curse his family’s keen senses—had furrowed brows. His eyes slowly, slowly tracked closer to me, and I realized that even with the presence-obscuring effects of this new power from my altered Beast Will, I still wasn’t entirely in the clear.

I cursed silently, conjuring a few vines around me to hoist me atop the courtyard walls. Yet instead of darting into the streets of Zestier, I surged toward the closest Elshire Oak. With the ease of years of practice, I bounded up the solemn grandfather of a tree, using my vines to anchor myself as I ran nearly at a ninety-degree angle.

Soon enough, I was lounging near the canopy of the tree. There were plenty of scouts up in these leaves watching for trouble, but I was certain none had the senses of the Chaffer man far below. With my newly expanded ability to sense things in the mist, I could see the annoying young elf’s brows furrowed in confusion–evidently losing my trail.

Mist still swirled around me, blanketing me from the probing eyes and ears of anyone peering in my direction. A tension I’d been carrying for a week unwound around my shoulders as I breathed in deeply, feeling free for the first time in a long time. The mist seemed to edge closer as I inhaled, then sighed its own breath of relief as I slumped in the tree.

Arthur mentioned something about facing mists when he fought the Elderwood Guardian, I thought as I gradually pulled myself back together, but I never had that power before. I’m a wind and plant attribute mage, so I neve could influence water attribute mana like many of my kind–but now…

My Beast Will didn’t outright respond, but I hoped she could feel how grateful I was for this ability. I watched my protectors scurry about like ants, shouts of alarm and calls echoing out as they tried to organize a search party.

I snorted in amusement, before stretching out my back. I’d be long gone by the time they even thought to search the canopies.

I turned on the branch, preparing to dart further into the forest and make my way to a teleportation gate. I was grateful the green dress I’d picked out had mobility in mind, or else I wouldn’t be able to–

“A neat trick,” a sultry voice said from nearby. “I’ve never seen the mist obey someone like that, almost with a life of its own.”

I froze in my tracks, a shiver running down my spine as if I were caught in the jaws of a predator. I turned slowly, my focus narrowing onto a sole figure.

Aya Grephin lounged on a branch nearby, looking painfully nonchalant. She swung her legs in a way that almost seemed coquettish as she observed me with startlingly dark eyes, a hint of a smirk on her lips.

The elven Lance’s eyes darted back down to the Gardens below. “Smart of you to bolt for the high ground. Chaffer won’t be able to follow so easily, especially with the mist weaving around you like that. Not so smart of you was trying to escape in the first place, Princess.”

On instinct, I assumed the tall and stately posture I normally assumed whenever in the presence of foreign dignitaries. “Lance Aya,” I said in a clipped tone, my nerves returning in full force, “What are your orders right now?”

Aya raised a pristine black brow. ”I’ve been tasked with watching over a certain elven princess. I was told that she might be a flight risk, and that having an extra eye on her would be imperative.”

And just like that, my dreams of freedom evaporated. Because if Lance Phantasm had been explicitly ordered to watch over me, then I had no chance of escape and no chance of ordering her elsewhere.

Because only the former king and queen of Elenoir could so blatantly order their Lance. And no matter how much I wanted, their authority would always supersede mine.

My Beast Will slowly retreated back into my core as I turned away from the Lance, feeling my face burn in quiet humiliation. “Are you going to drag me back down?” I asked, hoping I didn’t sound like a child. “For punishment? For trying to flee the grounds?”

Aya’s lopsided smirk vanished as she stared at me. “Why would I take you in, Princess? You’re simply enjoying the feeling of the trees. No need to sound an alarm or call the Council.”

My ears perked up as I looked at Aya with renewed hope. If she was about to let me off for–

“But if you were to prance off anywhere else, then I might just have to send a communication scroll to Commander Virion,” she finished, once again smashing my hopes like an overripe fruit against a wall.

My hands clenched at my sides as I felt my anger build up again. “So that’s how it is, then?” I snapped. “We’re two liabilities to be quarantined? One touch from Spellsong and suddenly we can’t even leave our own home?”

In that instant, I hated Toren Daen. He’d supposedly healed me, supposedly cured me of a horrid corruption in my core. And in my heart of hearts, I knew this to be true–that all he’d done was help me. But his actions caused me to be locked up like some puffed-up bird. To be treated like a useless child.

And Aya Grephin was a Lance. She could be out in battle somewhere mowing down Alacryans and tearing out the hearts of mana beasts. Instead, she was here, watching over me.

Aya’s features hardened at the mention of Spellsong. “I am doing my duty, Tessia Eralith. As should you.”

I scoffed. “And if my duty is just to rot in a pen?” I snapped, gesturing angrily toward the forest. “People are dying out there! Elf, human, and dwarf alike die in droves trying to protect this continent! What sort of princess am I if I’m not with them? How can I ever be worthy of my station if I’ve simply never experienced the same as my subjects?!”

I gnashed my teeth, pointing a finger at the elven Lance as tears blurred the edges of my vision. “And now everything I learn tells me that even those sacrifices are beyond the point,” I said, my anger and confusion at the riddles Toren Daen had uttered to Sylvie and me rising to the surface. What was a Legacy? How did so many people know about this reincarnation of King Grey? And why was I always involved, but never allowed to truly know? “I just want to–”

My arm drooped as I slammed my eyes shut. “I just want to make a difference, Aya.”

Like Art. Like Grandpa. Like Father and Mother. Because if I could make a difference… then maybe, just maybe, I’d finally be worthy of them, too.

The forest seemed silent in the wake of my painful proclamation. Down below, elves scrambled like ants as they darted about, calling orders and readying search parties.

Aya’s face was cold as stone–but for a moment, I thought I saw a flash of something painfully familiar streak across her features before it vanished.

“I have been a Lance since before you were born,” Aya said, her sultry and coquettish mannerisms slipping away. “And there have been times when I’ve questioned my duty. When I’ve wondered if all I do satisfies the former King and Queen.”

I blinked, sniffling as I stared at Aya Grephin. I didn’t actually know much of her past. In fact, I hadn’t even known she existed until a bare bit before she was revealed to the world in the Lance’s Ceremony several years ago.

“But I have learned that asking such questions is pointless. All I can do is follow the orders I am given and do as I am told; because I trust those above me in their decisions. And you seem to think that the only way you can serve this continent is with your blade.”

The elven Lance shifted her attention to the palace far below us, swirling and swarming with activity. “All the citizens of this country are fighting in their own way. The farmers set aside their surplus for our soldiers. The hunters sacrifice what they can of their kills. The papermakers and fletchers and leatherworkers and every part of this kingdom is working towards driving back the Alacryans. If you think the only way you can help is by fighting, what does that mean for everyone who helps without doing so?”

A long silence stretched between us as her words settled in. Each word of her scolding slammed into me like hammers in the forges as they all rang true. I turned my head away, feeling my face flush further in humiliation and embarrassment. No doubt my childish outburst had soured Aya’s mood even more.

The dark-haired beauty eventually sighed, her eyes softening slightly around the edges. “I can’t let you just vanish into the forest. Not when the enemy might be targeting you. But… But there is something I can do.”

I gave the Lance a skeptical look, but she only shrugged, a bit of her playful aura returning. “That mist thing you did: have you ever practiced in its use?”

I reluctantly shook my head. There wasn’t much of a point lying to Aya. “No, I haven’t,” I admitted with a sigh. “I didn’t even know it was possible until a few minutes ago.”

Aya smiled slightly. “If you want to do something worthwhile, then there’s nothing better you can do than improve in strength. My own mists are simply an imitation of Elshire’s: a good imitation, true, but still an imitation. But it seems that you can influence the pervading mist itself as if it's your own.”

My thoughts drifted inward at the Lance’s words, my attention shifting to my unnaturally light Beast Will. I thought of the strange changes in its presence; how it seemed to react and coil about my mind. Its desire to help me–though I wasn’t certain she knew what help was.

What are you, exactly? I found myself wondering as I inspected the mote of emerald green power nestled in my core. I’d never heard of the mists obscuring an elf’s senses, yet somehow they had–simply to cover me from the sight of people I wanted to hide from.

In the heat of the moment, I hadn’t realized what kind of implications that carried. For a bare moment, the Forest of Elshire had turned on her children. The same Forest that had impassively shielded us for centuries upon centuries at least, giving no other race solace but us.

Because of me, centuries of precedent had just been upturned.

My eyes must have been wide as moons as I stared at Aya. The Lance simply smirked. “That isn’t a very princesslike expression on your face, Princess,” she said playfully, standing up and hovering in the air. “Instead of catching thornflies in that gaping mouth, why don’t you get down to practicing?”