Leonard stood at the edge of the path, where pale blue shadows of twilight danced with the first streaks of dawn. The sun slipped below the horizon, bathing everything around in a soft golden light that seemed to create a world born of pure dreams. Beside him stood Yelena, and though they were about to part, her gaze embraced him, infusing him with an unknown strength. They looked at each other in silence, as if their souls communicated without words.

"I will return to you before the sun climbs above the horizon again," Leonard said, his voice full of a promise he uttered with such conviction it seemed to influence the very flow of time.

Yelena smiled and nodded. "I believe you will return, my prince. For no one, not even the stars, can prevent the return of someone guided by the call of their heart."

Leonard leaned toward her, their final kiss a touch of the heavens, and then he let her go, turned, and set out along the path bathed in the glow of the setting sun. His steps fell softly on the shadow-dappled path lined with trees, while in his mind, her voice, her gaze, and the sweetness of their last embrace still lingered.

With each step, he felt his heart swell with joy, as the memory of Yelena enlivened each passing moment. Thoughts of her dance, the grace with which she had enchanted him, drew him back again and again into a dream he could not stop drinking from. There was nothing more beautiful to him than the feeling that, after a long search, he had finally found his destiny—and that destiny was with her, with Yelena, the shining star he wanted to sing about to the whole world.

As he neared the palace gates, his steps grew surer and quicker, as though he wanted to share with his father the joy he had discovered this night. He thought of how he would describe her beauty, her innocence, and how he had found in her something no throne in the world could ever give him. He had forgotten his father's severity, his vigilance, and even his iron will.

He entered the palace gardens, surrounded by roses and the scent of night-blooming flowers. Leonard felt that Yelena’s presence was with him in every corner; her image appeared to him in the moonlit shadows mirrored on the surface of the pond. At that moment, his joy turned into a certainty that their love would endure—that he would bring her home, and their happiness would no longer need to be hidden. In his mind, he led her through these gardens, she danced, and this time, the dance was for him alone. With this conviction, he crossed the threshold of the palace and headed toward the golden-inlaid halls.

When Leonard entered the throne room, he saw his father in the dark shadow of the throne, with an expression so stern it could strike fear into even the fiercest of enemies. Eleman clung to him like a looming storm, and his gaze pierced the son who entered with a look of dreamy contentment.

"How dare you, Leonard?" Eleman hissed through clenched teeth. "To deceive my guards and leave the palace without permission! By defying my will, you have turned against your own blood."

Leonard, still immersed in the sweetness he had tasted, looked at his father with calm. "Father, I have… experienced something indescribable. Perhaps you have forgotten… or never imagined—”

Eleman’s anger flared. "Imagined?" the king repeated, cutting him off, his voice trembling.

"Father, yes. I wanted to tell you that tonight, I finally found a bride I can care for, even love. Once you know her, you will understand what she means to me and why I—”

"Enough! Do not dare continue! I am your father and king, and I will not listen to your foolish, naive babble about love for some… wandering jester!"

"Father, I would give up everything for you to accept her, to bless her along with my mother…”

"You do not know the meaning of sacrifice! Your recklessness would bring shame upon our lineage and tarnish this noble throne! And all for… for what, exactly? For some loose, dubious woman who has bewitched you, as if you were some empty-headed fool!"

Leonard, though feeling his anger rising, tried to remain calm. "Do not speak of her that way, Father," he said firmly; his voice was controlled, yet tense. "Yelena is no mere jester. She is not… an ordinary woman. I love her, and for her, I would give up everything—even your throne."

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The words struck Eleman like a harsh blow from a whip. For a moment, his eyes softened under a wave of disappointment, but anger quickly took over again. "You take your position far too lightly, as if it were a plaything in which you no longer find interest! I raised you in a golden cradle, did everything to shape you into a man worthy of my legacy! And you? You would destroy it all for the sake of a wench!!"

Leonard's eyes hardened, but he replied steadily, "Yelena is worth more to me than any throne, Father. She is the woman for whom I would give my life, if it comes to that. I am your son, but my heart is my own, and it belongs only to her."

Eleman gripped the armrest of the throne so tightly his knuckles, gnarled with rheumatism, turned white. "Listen to me well, Leonard. That woman has clouded your mind. I forbid you to see her again! If you seek her out once more, I will disown you as my heir and have you guarded in the tower like a mangy wolf!" The king's voice was firm and cold, but it held an undertone of fear—a fear of the fulfillment of ancient prophecies he refused to heed.

Leonard, whose gaze now burned with determination, turned to his father with defiance in his eyes. "You would take her from me? Then know this, Father, I will not live without her. I would rather tie a stone around my neck and plunge into the murky waters of the Rush than spend the rest of my life without her."

Eleman froze momentarily, his furious gaze falling upon his son's resolute face. His son’s words had struck deeply, for he saw in him the youthful resolve, the wild spirit he himself once felt. His rage was slowly overwhelmed by a new feeling—a fear he dared not admit. He turned to his wife, Queen Dramila, who looked at both of them with tears in her eyes. "Look at what you have caused," Eleman snapped at Leonard. "Your own mother suffers from the venom of your unguarded words! I am ashamed to have lived to see such disappointment!"

Leonard turned away, pressing his lips together, and cast a troubled glance at his beloved mother, whose pained gaze tore at his heart. Yet within him, a sense of defiance took root. "My family should understand what this love means to me. I no longer ask for your permission, Father—only that you cease speaking of her with scorn unworthy of your wisdom."

Eleman took a deep breath, trying to control his anger. "Go to your chambers and reflect on the words you have spoken here. Consider the pain you have caused your mother and me. And when your mind has settled, you will come to me and beg forgiveness as both your king and your father. That is my command." With those words, the king then ordered his servants to keep Leonard under constant watch and to assign him to the hard labor that would keep his thoughts occupied. Yelena was to be exiled from the realm under the threat of torture should she ever dare to return with her wandering tents.

Leonard, buckling under the weight of his father's words, felt his face burn with defiance. Alone in his chamber, he felt as though the walls closed around him in a straitjacket of a fate he had not chosen. If he had doubted, even for a moment, that his lady was not waiting for him, he would rather have thrown himself from the tower window than live another day. He sat thus through the night, not closing his eyes for even a second. With the sunrise, the turmoil in his soul rolled away like the morning mist. He knew what he had to do.

Before the guards came for him in the morning to escort him to the royal table, he climbed down the stone wall from his tower chamber and slipped past the sleeping guards to a hidden escape path leading out of the palace. Along the way, he took a tethered horse and rode to Yelena. His heart pounded as he raced like never before, feeling the weight of time pressing on him as he knew he must hurry before his absence was discovered.

He arrived at the place of Yelena’s camp and found her washing clothes in the stream. Even as he watched from a distance, it was clear to him that Yelena understood the gravity of the situation from the look on his face alone. He approached her, took her hand, and, without further explanation, lifted her onto the horse, claiming her before the entire world. Without delay, they set off, leaving behind only the glistening water in the stream and the wet clothes she had left on the shore.

Their escape was wild and untamed; the horse sped through forests and stony paths, urged on by Leonard’s relentless pace. He felt sparks under its hooves and exulted in carrying his treasure of love away from the palace gates, far towards happiness. Clearings, crossed streams, and vast heather fields beneath ancient trees flashed by them. In the distance, bells rang from remote villages, sounding an alarm. Each time, he changed direction to throw off his pursuers, his heart still feeling Yelena’s closeness.

They rode through the day and night until the horse, exhausted, finally collapsed beneath them. Under the open sky, in the midst of the forest among the ruins of the mountains, they found refuge. Leonard covered Yelena with his cloak, and their silent glances told everything their voices no longer could. In this moment, they belonged only to each other. And they were happy.

Yelena nestled close to him, and before he closed his eyes, she softly uttered an incantation as old as the world itself. Sparks, like tiny stars, appeared in her hands and surrounded their sanctuary, to protect them and remain as their guardians. Leonard watched her, his mind filled with awe and peace.

At last, he saw what lay veiled in the mystery of Yelena’s charm. He understood who she truly was—a soul full of ancient magic, of a mystical order over which she ruled as a true queen. And he was her chosen one.