The sun’s warmth brushed Alexia’s face, turning her chestnut hair to dark gold. Dimples bloomed on her cheeks as she closed her eyes and smiled, basking in the heat. She had always preferred warmth over cold, often heating her blankets with magic and curling beneath them with a book in hand. How she longed for a quiet moment with a story to calm her mind.
Timmeck exhaled beside her. “I hope I never have to be in the room with those three again.”
Alexia echoed his sigh. “They drained all my energy. I need some time to myself.”
“I get it,” Timmeck said. “I’ll speak with Lucius Elagrimear and make preparations.”
Grateful for the reprieve, Alexia found a quiet spot between two tents to meditate. As she moved through familiar mantras, her mind drifted to Leverith and the land of Mirrevar. There was a palpable magic in the air here, something that resonated with her power. It made her believe in the legend that Leverith’s love originated from Mirrevar itself. No wonder so many of Leveria’s greatest love stories were born in Mirrevar.
She guided her mind to her favorite tale—a love story from a thousand years past. The legend of Elior, a lowly farmer’s son who, through courage and fate, rescued Princess Pelianna and her younger brother from assassins. Legend said that Leverith linked their hearts the moment they first touched.
But their love was not meant to be. Pelianna was already promised to the heir of Rubinia. Elior, undeterred, challenged the lordling to a duel. The notion seemed laughable—a farmer going up against a famed knight—but it sparked an idea in King Pateros Leveria. He declared a grand tournament on Pageant, Qoryxa’s holyday, with the victor winning his daughter’s hand. Archlords and heirs from every corner of the realm came to fight for Pelianna, the fairest maiden in Leveria.
King Pateros arranged for the transport of tens of thousands of commoners from across the kingdom and erected tournament grounds at the foot of Goddess Hill, beneath the canopy of Covademara. Never before and never since has such a spectacle been held.
On the first day of the tourney, a mysterious figure known as “The Paladin” emerged. Clad in battered armor, he captured the hearts of the commons. The Paladin endured ten lances against the unbonded archlord of Lelac. In the eleventh bout, the Paladin finally broke his own lance against Archlord Elagrimear’s chest and sent him tumbling. For three more days, the mystery knight endured lance after lance against antique armor, supported by a young squire wearing a mask.
In the semifinals, he faced Davanil Sapphire, the kingdom’s most feared knight, known as the Monsoon. The commons and Princess Pelianna cheered for the Paladin while the lords applauded for the Sapphire lordling. Twelve times, they rode, and twelve times the Monsoon’s lance broke upon the Paladin. The mystery knight slumped atop his horse, blood streaming from him in several places, his armor pierced and impacted beyond use. Pelianna begged her father to stop the fight, but when the Paladin removed his helm, lifted his lance to the princess, and declared his undying love, the king remained silent.
On the thirteenth tilt, both lances shattered, and they fell to the ground. Elior lacked the strength to stand. The Monsoon demanded he yield, but Elior declared that he’d rather die than surrender. Pelianna screaming in the king’s box, the meladonite stormblade with the same name of the knight that wielded it descended.
The Paladin caught the hilt of the blade, pulled Davanil Sapphire to the ground, threw the sword aside, pulled himself atop the Monsoon, and pummeled him into surrender with his bare hands. Elior was triumphant, but after defeating Davanil he was unable to rise for the final match.
Sir Phyreon Ruby, the heir to Rubinia and Pelianna’s original suitor, was all that was left between the Paladin and his life’s mate. Yet, he couldn't stand, let alone sit a horse. The Ruby heir rode out on his gallant white horse in his gallant armor with a red rose held between his lips. He looked up into the king’s box and demanded his prize.
Pelianna evaded her Dreamguard sworn shield and dashed down into the tourney grounds. Tears streamed from her amethyst eyes as she kissed Elior in front of the entire kingdom, and in that moment, a radiant blue light burst from her necklace, healing Elior’s wounds.
Prince Erosar, the heir to the Leverian throne, took off his own mask and revealed himself as Elior’s squire. Prince and princess helped the Paladin back atop his horse, armored in nothing but the light of Leverith as it spiraled around his body, streaming from Pelianna’s necklace. The commons roared for the Paladin even as the nobility’s hisses were swallowed by Leverith’s endorsement of true love. Yet none cheered louder than the princess and her brother as Elior exchanged but one pass with Phyreon before the lofty heir to Rubinia was sent to the mud.
In the end, nary an eye remained dry and a voice intact as the commons and the nobility cheered the outcome. The king beckoned for silence, declared Elior his son-to-be, the truest defender of his daughter’s honor and love.
Alexia sighed, swept up in the romance of it all. Would anyone ever fight for her like that? She thought of Halius and imagined him trying to battle Sir Aldius of Lelac, Sir Garrond the Dust, Kai Blazelord, or Daichin ezen Celegan for her. But she couldn’t. Halius was not her Elior. She exhaled, wiped at her eyes, and tried to push the thought away.
She looked up at the sky, where a pair of giant eagles soared high above. I am not free, she thought. I am neither Pelianna nor the Sun. I am but a servant to war and politics, bound to a path I never chose.
*************
Alexia hid between tents, her gaze drawn to the battlements. The infantry and archers stationed on the wooden walkways served as a barrier between her and a dream she’d held since childhood. She longed to climb one of the towers and look out across fabled Mirrevar, but the thought of being surrounded by strangers, their curious eyes and endless questions, kept her rooted in place.
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Maleon crouched beside her. Together, they sat, neither speaking, both weighed down by unspoken thoughts. Every time Alexia dared to glance at him, the sadness etched into his face startled her. He looked older than she had ever seen him, his features sagging with defeat.
“What happened between you and Elianor?”
Maleon sighed. “That’s a long, painful story, Alexia.”
She met his gaze. “I’m here to listen.”
His fingers fidgeted, twisting together as if he were trying to grasp something just out of reach. “I left her behind when she needed me most. I chose vengeance over love, and in the end, I got neither.” His voice trembled, though no tears fell. “That was the second worst day of my life.”
“The second?” Alexia asked, leaning closer. Gently, she rested a hand on his shoulder.
Maleon’s voice faltered, but he pressed on. “I can’t talk about the other day yet. Someday, maybe. When I have the strength to face it… to tell you about the day my dreams died.”
Alexia’s heart ached as she absorbed his pain, her body trembling in empathy. “You’ve endured so much, Maleon,” she whispered. “Few things hurt more than shattered dreams.” Her eyes reflected back his sorrow. “I wonder if some of those dreams can still be revived. I’ll do whatever I can to help you.”
Alexia closed her eyes, retreating into herself for a moment. She wished she had the strength to climb one ladder and make her own dream come true. But her fears, as always, held her back.
Maleon sniffled. “I can’t face my broken dreams yet, but you,” he pointed toward the nearest tower, “can go there.”
Alexia pulled her hand away, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. “I’m terrified,” she admitted, curling inward. “I always have been.”
“I know,” Maleon said softly. “But you faced your fears in Vulcan. When your allies needed you, you found your courage and led them.” His eyes searched hers, full of belief. “You’re a natural leader, Alexia. The world hasn’t seen someone like you since Queen Alexia Leveria herself.” He glanced out at the bustling camp, where hundreds did their daily tasks unaware of the moment. “Someday, you’ll lead these people. You’ll carry their dreams, and even though you’re afraid, you’ll rise and inspire them. That is who you are. That is your destiny.”
He stood and offered her his hand. “Come on. Never let fear stand between you and your dreams.”
With a deep breath, Alexia took his hand, allowing him to guide her toward the watchtower. Fear still loomed over her, but Maleon’s belief in her gave her the strength to wade through the anxiety. As they reached the ladder, she let go of his hand, and he nodded.
Her heart raced as she climbed, her hands trembling on the rungs. At the top, three awestricken soldiers greeted her. Butterflies thrashing in her chest, she offered them a quiet hello and stepped past. Her eyes focused on the view she had longed for her entire life.
The experience was matched against impossible expectations built upon thousands of dreams and paintings and stories of legendary Mirrevar, the very heart of Leveria. Looking into the west under the midafternoon sun, the impossible became possible as every description paled in comparison to the reality of this landscape. Neither word nor brush could do justice to the tapestry Leverith wove in Mirrevar.
The land told a beautiful and tragic tale, a tale of innocence lost. Once, this was Leverith’s paradise, a land of endless flowers and peace. But Leverith had been betrayed, and her descendants, the Leverians, were gone. Where life once flourished, war and death now reigned.
Yet even in the shadow of bloodshed, Mirrevar’s beauty endured. The rolling green hills, the sparkling blue streams, the vibrant flowers that painted the landscape in colors more vivid than any artist could capture—it was all there, breathtaking and heartbreaking in equal measure. A gentle breeze carried the scent of a hundred different blooms, sweet and intoxicating.
And then her gaze shifted southward, to the most striking sight of all: Goddess Hill. Covademara, a tree born of the sisterhood between Celegana and Leverith, towered above the clouds, its branches reaching skyward, each one adorned with trillions of flowers forever in bloom.
Alexia’s heart swelled with awe. She could imagine the Citadel of Dreams that once stood strong at Covademara’s base, where the greatest monarchs had ruled over a unified Leveria. Now, only ruins remained, a testament to the passage of time and the ravages of war.
Alexia dreamt of the peace that used to flow from Goddess Hill. In the Dark Era after the Divine Thirteen departed the world, a tribal warlord named Philladon slept beneath Covademara and was visited by Leverith in his dreams. She told him that Zamael had been master of humanity for too long. An eon of anarchy and tribal war ended when Philladon Godseer became King Philladon Leveria. It was from atop Goddess Hill where his dynasty reigned from the Dreamer’s Throne in the Citadel of Dreams.
But Zamael didn’t relinquish his control over mankind easily. Short periods of war persevered throughout Leverian history, and conflicts never ceased as Zamael’s influence lingered where love couldn't vanquish hate. War and corruption within the royal family threatened to destroy Philladon’s peace. Leverian killed Leverian for the crown. A dozen heirs were killed when the Citadel of Dreams was sacked by a Leverian usurper. Archlords rebelled. In one infamous battle, five Leverian kings were made and mourned at the swords of Ruby rebels.
In her mind’s eye, Alexia saw Queen Alexia Leveria, an unlikely eleven-year-old staring down from the ruins of the Citadel of Dreams as three separate armies planned her death and the division of her kingdom at the foot of Goddess Hill. The Love Queen did the impossible and conjured Pacisamorus, bathing the three armies in Leverith’s sacred light, bringing peace to a land torn apart by hatred.
But even her peace hadn’t lasted forever. Seven-hundred-thirteen years ago, the last of the Leverians fell, and the land had been divided ever since, locked in a cycle of civil war between Ruby and Sapphire claimants. The Sapphires were founded as a cadet branch of Leverians from the remnants of when Sapphirica had served as the capital. Yet the Ruby bloodline carried just as much of the Dreamer’s blood as the Love Queen’s husband, King Elzeon, had been a Ruby, and their children’s line still governed Rubinia even now in the Third Leverian Era.
The sight of so much history stirred Alexia’s heart making her yearn harder than ever for peace. Divided into east and west, death and war triumphed once more over peace and love. The Dreamer’s Throne remained empty, and the continent’s heart broken. The war continued for five centuries until Linus Peacemaker, atop Goddess Hill, conjured Pacisamorus and united Ruby and Sapphire again. Ten sweet years of peace, by far the longest since the fall of the Leverians, before an assassin poisoned Linus with cordesine and stopped his heart, again breaking Leveria apart.
Alexia longed to ascend the Goddess and sit beneath Covademara. She imagined looking down at the union of the Bear and the Eagle rivers, the Grand Confluence. United together they were unstoppable, like the sun and the moon, like Pelianna and Elior, like the Ruby and the Sapphire. She looked forward and saw her life’s dream. Peace and love will flow from the Goddess once more, she promised herself.
Her hand pressed to her chest, she longed for the missing piece of her soul—the other half of her river, the one who would make her whole.