The cold enfolded Everess, its icy fingers creeping from her foot to engulf her entire being. Yet, it did not evoke shivers or a skin-crawling sensation — it merely existed. Inhaling deeply, she welcomed the cold, feeling it flowed into her body like water flowing into a vessel. Still, her body remained unresponsive. It perplexed her. But she did not act on it.
The serene sounds of the Eldemenster’s keep, the chirping crickets, the rustling leaves, and the gentle night breeze, slowly disappeared into nothingness. Even the rhythm of her own breath vanished from her perception, replaced by the soft murmur of the wind.
With a gradual unfolding, she opened her eyes to absolute darkness, a state that left her bewildered. Despite her attempts, her hands remained invisible to her, though she sensed their presence right in front of her. It was an inexplicable disconnect between touch and sight.
A solitary drop of water echoed in the void, triggering a recollection of a similar occurrence in Samau. “Another vision,” she mused to herself.
There, she doesn’t feel anything. All she could feel was the nothingness. The sweet embrace of it. As if the moment she was there, it emptied her of her worries, her troubles. She can’t even feel happiness, nor sadness, nothing.
To her astonishment, she could hear her own voice, as though she were speaking aloud. Though certain she had only conceived the words in her mind, uncertainty now clouded her perception.
The echoing droplets transformed into a sorrowful tone, resembling the sound of someone weeping. Searching in vain, she strained to see in every direction, only to be met by an impenetrable darkness. Shifting her gaze, a faint glimmer emerged from her right side, a minuscule sliver of light.
Drawing nearer, the mournful wails intensified as the luminous entity—a kind of ethereal orb—loomed before her. With every cry, it pulsated, creating an otherworldly rhythm that both fascinated and unnerved her. As she listened to the ethereal cries of the light orb. She then realized where she had this eerie voice before. It was indeed from her previous vision.
Abruptly, the orb of light transformed into the semblance of a maiden, bathed in radiance or perhaps composed entirely of it. The luminous manifestation took on the form of a woman—a spectral maiden.
In an attempt to gain the attention of the luminous maiden, she tried to shake her, but the ethereal figure persisted in its lament. The maiden’s hair billowed, the sole source of illumination in the otherwise empty space, reminiscent of flowing water. The echoes of her sorrowful cries haunted and captivated her. It entranced her. Ensnared by its ethereal voice that echoed in this vast darkness
Though a pang of guilt tinged with bliss overcame her at the being’s transparent sorrow, an odd comfort enveloped her as she succumbed to the haunting melody. As she immersed herself in the spectral voice, a recurring phrase emerged.
“Are we…”
Repeated multiple times, as it echoed in the nothingness. She fixated on the mournful sounds until the message crystallized.
“Are we too late?” whispered the luminous maiden amidst her cries.
As she decoded the phrase, she felt the piercing gaze of the light maiden upon her.
“Are we too late?” the haunting voice echoed again as the luminous figure stood, fixing its radiant gaze directly upon her.
“No,” it cried, the anguish palpable in its voice. “We are too late,” it whispered, the sorrow deepening as the light began to pulsate. The void trembled with each rapid pulse until it gradually subsided.
The cries vanished, leaving only the light fixated on her. It reached out, gently cradling her face. “I’m sorry for what we are about to do,” it whispered, its haunting voice resonating.
The light maiden touched her, and the light maiden’s radiance flowed into her. However, instead of the usual white light, it shifted into a pinkish-red glow. “I’m sorry, but we have no time.”
Suddenly, a jolt surged through her body, a swift and unexpected return of her senses that felt almost violent. The light flowed, reconstructing her form as if it were reclaiming what was lost. The once pinkish-red luminescence transformed, darkening until it radiated a brilliant shade of purple.
A searing sensation enveloped her, catching her off guard with an intensity she hadn’t foreseen. Her voice seemed to abandon her gradually, while her vision slowly reemerged like a descending object. Then, with a suddenness that mimicked the impact of a falling entity, she was thrust back into wakefulness. Gasping for air, she found herself drenched in a sheen of cold sweat.
“Everess, are you alright?” A concerned voice cut through the haze. She looked and saw Ravaen checking on her.
“Yes—yes, I’m fine,” she replied, her confusion evident. She tried to steady herself, wiping the sweat from her forehead. “What time is it? I’m sorry; I was supposed to go out to get us some food.”
“No need for that, Princess Everess,” a deep voice interrupted. She turned to see an unknown man standing beside another, both offering her fruits. “We already took care of it.”
Accepting the fruit, she thanked them. Her gaze shifted to the two men again. “And who are you?”
“I am General Sevidon Borinvegeard of the Karinhawis,” Sevidon introduced himself. “This is Prince Glaivel Numenesse of the Sulinhawis,” he pointed to his companion.
“I can introduce myself,” Glaivel grumbled.
Sevidon merely shook his head as he strolled toward her.
“Are you alright?” Glaivel inquired.
“Yes, I’m fine. I just needed a little rest. That’s all.” She took a bite of the apple she’d been given. “I’m surprised that you’re already here. We only arrived yesterday. Were you already in the empire when the Arch Chancellor called out?” she queried.
Ravaen, Glaivel, and Sevidon exchanged glances, confusion etched across their faces. “What’s wrong? Is there something wrong?” she pressed.
Ravaen crouched down to her level again and explained, “Everess, you’ve been asleep for almost a week. You’ve been out since freigar.”
“We arrived around midday, aducegar. You’ve been asleep this whole time,” Glaivel pointed out.
Everess’ eyes widened in disbelief, the revelation of her week-long slumber echoing in her mind like an unheard melody. The world around her seemed to blur momentarily as she grappled with the disorienting truth.
Her gaze darted from Ravaen to Glaivel, then to Sevidon, each face a mirror reflecting the same astonishing reality.
“A week?” she whispered, the words escaping her lips as if testing their validity. Time had betrayed her, slipping away in a dreamlike haze, and the weight of the lost days settled heavily upon her shoulders.
Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to comprehend the unfathomable. It felt like only moments had passed since she closed her eyes, yet the expressions on the faces around her spoke of a temporal rift that defied reason.
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In that suspended moment, the world seemed to shift, the very ground beneath her becoming unsteady. She blinked, half-expecting to awaken from what surely must be a lingering dream. Yet, the reality of her prolonged absence hung in the air, casting a shadow over the present.
“No, it can’t be,” she murmured, grappling with the surreal notion that a mere nap had metamorphosed into a profound journey through time. The shock manifested in the creased furrow of her brow, the hesitant tremor in her voice, as the realization of the lost days settled like an unwelcome guest in her consciousness.
“Are you sure you’re alright, Everess?” Glaivel inquired.
She met his gaze. “We just met, and we’re dropping titles now?”
A moment of awkward silence lingered among them, the weight of regret evident on her face. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what got over me,” she confessed, the admission a fragile attempt to mend the unintentional offense.
“You know, Princess Everess, in the short while I’ve been with you, I like you already,” Ravaen said, his chuckle offering a gentle alleviation to the tension.
“Don’t worry, Princess. He deserved it,” Sevidon interjected, his words a reassurance that echoed with a hint of camaraderie.
“Really? Now?” Glaivel retorted, a grunt accompanying his departure for a solitary walk.
“Wait, no—stay!” she called out, a twinge of remorse evident in her voice, but he had already vanished into the distance.
“I suggest you eat up. I heard a study that women are cranky when they are hungry,” Ravaen teased, handing her more fruits. Sevidon smiled and shook his head. “You’ve been out for almost a week, so I understand.”
“Can we please stop? I feel bad. I shouldn’t have treated Prince Glaivel like that,” she implored, finishing her first apple and reaching for another fruit.
“He’ll cool down,” Sevidon reassured her, glancing outside before turning back to her. “Does this happen often, Princess Everess?”
It was a pertinent question, stirring a cascade of memories. Always isolated for her studies, frequent fainting spells, potent but uncontrollable magical outbursts, and prolonged periods of slumber that once stretched for a month—now, part of the puzzle began to make sense.
“Sometimes,” she admitted, acknowledging the complexity of her situation.
Ravaen shook his head, unable to fathom the intricacies. “I still can’t piece it together.”
Both of them fixed their gaze on him, prompting Ravaen to add with a devious smile, “Why would the Empire call for you? As I’ve heard it from stories, you’re trouble.”
Unsure how to react, she avoided eye contact with both of them, continuing to eat her fruit in contemplative silence.
“The Empire must have their reasons, Your Highness,” Sevidon interjected abruptly. “For now, we only have to trust them.”
Ravaen rose from his crouch, expressing his discomfort. “Well, I, for one, am not comfortable with a bomb among us. But you’re right; the Empire may have their reasons.” He cast a pointed glance at Sevidon. “After all, they asked for you.”
With that, Ravaen made his way outside. “I’ll hunt for our dinner, as it is getting late. I’ll bring the Sulin Prince for this. You two stay put.”
Left alone in the keep with Sevidon, she settled into a moment of relative quiet. Sevidon, however, broke the silence, slowly grabbing an apple for himself. “Did the Imperial Council ever tell you why they chose you?"
“Yes,” she answered abruptly. “But they only gave me part of it,” she added, attempting to stand.
Sevidon assisted her carefully. “Careful. You’ve been out for a week, as Ravaen told us when we arrived. You’ll be feeling weak around the knees.”
“Thank you. I just need some fresh air. That’s all,” she replied, and they proceeded outside, settling by the door.
Taking in a deep breath of the fresh air, she allowed the cool breeze to wash over her. Sevidon, seated beside her, spoke again. “If you ever finally trust us, we would like to know that part of the answer they gave. If it’s all right with you, of course.”
She offered a swift raise of her eyebrows, returning to her usual expression with a polite smile in response to Sevidon’s inquiry. They sat in silence, absorbing the captivating view of the setting sun, accompanied by the melodic symphony of birds and insects filling the air.
Despite the peaceful ambiance, the gravity of their collective mission to end someone’s life lingered in the air—a stark contrast to the tranquility surrounding them.
As she contemplated the task ahead, Moselei’s parting words echoed in her mind, complicating her thoughts. Struggling to think clearly, the fresh wound of her parents’ deaths haunted her, an experience she attempted to bury unsuccessfully.
Sevidon interrupted her introspection, his sudden question catching her off guard. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying, Princess?” he inquired, and she hurriedly wiped away the tears, attempting to regain composure.
“It’s nothing,” she insisted.
But Sevidon persisted. “We are alone right now. You can talk to me about it. You won’t be at peace if you keep strong emotions held close. You won’t be able to think clearly.”
His words resonated with a lesson from her youth, where she learned that emotions could unleash uncontrollable magic and that unclear minds led to regret. Unable to contain her feelings any longer, she finally confessed, “I just miss my home.”
Sevidon turned his gaze toward the setting sun. “I miss my home too. Once all of this is over, you’ll be back in no time."
A solitary tear traced a path down her face. The realization that her home was gone, replaced by the looming shadows of her parents’ demise, overwhelmed her. Despite her attempts to suppress her emotions, they surged forth after days of being held in check.
“Do you believe Tamiron is capable of the deeds they accuse him of?” she suddenly asked.
Sevidon turned to her, observing the tears welling up as they gazed upon the sun slowly sinking behind the tree line.
“I’ve known Tamiron since he was a child. He spoke of great love for his people. I, for one, do not believe the reports,” Sevidon responded straightforwardly.
“Then why did he order my parents’ deaths?” Her words shocked Sevidon, and he met her gaze as she pondered, looking toward the remaining light of the day as the sun sank and twilight took over.
“It has been years since I met the Imperial Prince again. But during his training with us, he only spoke of his great love and admiration for all imperial subjects, including the Orderians. So, I have questions about his actions. The reports of his ferocity, the great sorrow he unleashed upon us, are still unbelievable to me. I would like to find out the truth behind his actions,” Sevidon explained to her.
“Do you think we will get the answers we are looking for?” she asked as she pondered the unknown. The mere absence of Tamiron’s supposed descent into a warlord.
“I can’t speak for Tamiron, Princess Everess. But what I can say is, ever since he was a child, he has been honest, true to his words, unlike children of his age,” he continued. Sevidon stood up and jumped down to the grass.
“Now that I recall, he mentioned you every time he came for a visit,” Sevidon smiled at the thought. “You and the Imperial Prince were good friends, yes?”
She smiled as memories flooded her upon hearing the words. “We were,” she replied succinctly, her tone stoic, as the smile quickly wiped away. “Now I’m not too sure.”
Sevidon sighed, his words carried in a whisper, “If we are to find answers, the two of us need to make sure that Tamiron is alive. Can you promise me that? So that at least you can have your answer too if he really did order your parents’ deaths,” he spoke in a hushed tone.
“Why are you telling me that as if I can end him?” she asked.
“Because the Empire doesn’t do what it does without any explanation,” he suddenly said. “I’ve been alive for so long that I can read them like an open book. With you being here, something tells me that you can.”
They exchanged glances as she pondered. Will she keep her word with Moselei? Will she oblige with his request? Now, Sevidon is asking the same thing, and it appears he has his own agenda. What about Glaivel? Or Ravaen? Do they share the same sentiment as Sevidon? Her mind was already cluttered with questions.
“We’re back!” Ravaen shouted as he landed, firewood in hand, while Glaivel emerged from the forest with a boar on his back.
“I’ll prepare the fire,” Sevidon said. They exchanged stares before he moved to set up their camp.
“How are you feeling?” Ravaen asked her.
“I’m doing fine now. Thank you for taking care of me,” she replied.
“I don’t really have anything better to do. But you’re welcome,” Ravaen said.
She took a deep breath as Ravaen prepared the cooking area. Glaivel finished preparing the boar for a roast, about to walk towards the bonfire the other two were making. She called out to him, “Glaivel!”
Glaivel shifted his gaze towards her. “Yes, Princess Everess?”
“Everess. Just call me Everess,” she said. Glaivel smiled faintly, nodding in acknowledgment before making his way towards the bonfire.
Gazing up at the sky, she allowed herself a moment of respite beneath the vast expanse of twinkling stars. Luna, the celestial diamond, illuminated the darkness with its gentle glow. The night held a quiet beauty, a stark contrast to the tumultuous events that had unfolded.
As she observed the constellations, memories of her childhood flashed before her eyes — stargazing sessions with her parents, tales of heroes etched into the celestial canvas. But now, those memories were clouded by the recent loss, the void left by her parents’ absence.
A melancholic sigh escaped her lips as she contemplated the weight of responsibility now thrust upon her. The journey ahead promised not only answers but a reckoning with the past. The empire’s mysterious call, the enigmatic visions, and the unsettling truths that awaited her — all laid out against the backdrop of a night sky that seemed to hold both promise and foreboding.
The crackling sound of the bonfire brought her back to the present. Ravaen and Glaivel engaged in lively conversation, sharing tales of their worlds, momentarily diverting her from the weight of her thoughts. Sevidon, the enigmatic general, watched the flames with a gaze that hinted at depths of experience and secrets yet unveiled.
As they prepared for the night, she couldn’t shake the feeling that her life had taken an irreversible turn. The stars, witnesses to the unfolding saga, seemed to hold both the secrets of the past and the uncertainties of the future.
End of chapter XV