Far from the capital of Aurelthar, the wind howled across the frozen cliffs of Kael'thir.
A region long erased from imperial maps, a sanctuary for the forgotten and the condemned. Beneath the towering ridges, hidden in the ruins of an ancient citadel, a single light flickered in the darkness.
Elara sat by the fire, the amber glow tracing the sharp curve of her jaw and the tired hollows beneath her eyes.
The once-proud Crown Princess of Aurelthar was now wrapped in the gray cloak of the Iron Fox Guild. Nameless, faceless, and alive, driven by a single purpose: to uncover the truth of her lineage and the unending curse of her mother's bloodline.
She touched the thin scar along her wrist, a mark left by the night she vanished.
The sound of footsteps pulled her from her thoughts.
Crown Prince Kaelion, or Ashen, as the guild called him, though Elara did not yet know his true identity, approached, the silver clasp of his cloak catching the firelight. His usual calm expression softened when he saw her.
"You're awake early," he said, setting a tray of bread and dried fruit beside her. "You've been pushing yourself too much again."
Elara smiled faintly. "You say that as if I know how to rest."
He chuckled under his breath, lowering himself onto the opposite rock. "You remind me too much of myself. Stubborn to the point of ruin."
She glanced at him then, the flicker of curiosity behind her eyes betraying her silence. "You say that like ruin hasn't already found me... Do you ever wonder if people still look for us?"
Ashen's eyes darkened. "They do. But what matters is that they don't find us."
Her lips curved in a faint, tired smile. "Then let them search. I'm not ready to be found."
She turned her gaze to the flames, her reflection flickering in gold and shadow. The sigil on her wrist pulsed once, faintly, like a heartbeat. A whisper of something ancient stirring within her veins.
The air was crisp when Elara and Ashen reached the small trading village of Dathmere, nestled at the foot of the northern hills.
Morning mist clung to the rooftops, veiling the cobblestone paths in a silver haze. Merchants called out their wares, leather goods, herbs, salted fish, but their voices blurred into the steady hum of life far from the empire's gilded cage.
Elara adjusted the hood of her gray cloak, her violet-tinted hair hidden beneath the fabric. "We should stay here for the day," she said softly. "The horses need rest… and so do we."
Ashen nodded. "Agreed. I'll see if the innkeeper has a quiet room."
But as they passed through the crowded square, Elara suddenly froze mid-step. Across the market, near the apothecary's stall, a familiar voice carried over the noise. Calm. Refined. Unmistakable.
Lyssara.
The scholar from Aetherion.
Her heart skipped a beat. What is she doing here?
"Ashen," she whispered quickly, tugging his sleeve. "That woman, over there. I know her. She was with the Aetherion delegation during the imperial summit."
Ashen followed her gaze. His expression faltered just for a moment, the faintest flicker of recognition in his eyes.
"Let's go," she said, already moving toward the scholar.
Ashen caught her wrist lightly, leaning closer. "Elara—"
But she didn't listen.
Lyssara turned at the sound of footsteps approaching, her scholar's robes fluttering lightly in the wind.
When her eyes landed on Ashen, her lips parted—surprise flashing before she quickly schooled her features into calm. "Your—"
Ashen raised a finger to his lips in a sharp gesture. Silence.
Lyssara blinked, her expression faltering into confusion. Then she followed his gaze, toward the hooded girl beside him, and realization dawned slowly in her eyes.
"Good day," Elara greeted politely, pulling her hood back just slightly. "I didn't mean to startle you. I thought I recognized your face."
Lyssara hesitated, studying her closely. "I—perhaps you did, miss?"
"Elara," she said, extending her hand with a faint smile. "Just Elara."
For a brief moment, Lyssara froze. Her eyes widened as though struck by lightning. Violet hair, bright blue eyes hidden beneath lowered lashes. A presence she had only ever seen within the imperial palace.
The missing crown princess of Aurelthar.
Her breath caught. She bowed instinctively, voice trembling. "Pardon me, Your Highness."
Elara's eyes widened slightly. "Please, don't call me that," she said quickly, glancing around. "Not here. Not now. We're far from the city, and I'm no longer anyone's 'Highness.'"
Lyssara straightened slowly, confusion mixing with intrigue. "You… you disappeared," she said softly. "The Aurelthar empire still speaks your name. There are rumors that the Council wishes to replace you—"
Elara's lips tightened. "Let them."
Ashen's gaze flickered toward her, but he said nothing.
Lyssara hesitated before continuing, "They say your father hasn't spoken to anyone in months. That the emperor grows impatient, and that the people have begun to doubt whether—"
"Whether I'm still alive?" Elara finished with a faint, humorless smile. "Then let them doubt."
Lyssara blinked at the quiet finality of her tone. She's changed, she thought. This isn't the same princess who once smiled beneath chandeliers.
Silence lingered before Lyssara tilted her head, curiosity knitting her brow. "Forgive me, but… may I ask something personal?"
Elara nodded warily.
"Your hair," Lyssara said. "Back at the preparatory banquet, I remember it was violet. Naturally so. Is that common in your family?"
Elara smiled faintly. "Yes. I inherited it from my mother."
Lyssara's expression softened. "And… your mother, she was…?"
"Selene Nytheris Veyldan,"Elara mentioned.
At the mention of Nytheris, Lyssara stiffened.
Her fingers, which had been idly toying with her quill, froze midair. "Did you say… Nytheris?"
Elara nodded, unaware of the reaction she had caused. "Yes. My mother's maiden surname. She once told me that she was from a downfall family of a nobles." She smiled faintly, eyes distant. "But I remember little of her. She died in a carriage accident when I was five. Fell into a ravine."
Lyssara's throat tightened. Died?
Her mind whirled. No. The Queen of Nytheris lives. Hidden. Waiting.
Her pulse quickened as she forced herself to maintain composure. "I… see," she said softly. "How tragic."
Elara's eyes narrowed slightly. She knows that her mother is still alive, but she just followed the plot that everyone knows.
For Elara also wants to know what Lyssara could possibly's connections to Nytherians, if she is a Nytherian herself or just someone who's acquianted with the Aetherion empire.
The scholar's reaction, too sharp, too controlled.
She knows something. Elara thought.
For a moment, neither spoke. Then Lyssara cleared her throat, regaining her calm. "You've been through much, Lady Elara. Perhaps… it was fate that brought you here."
"Perhaps," Elara murmured, her tone unreadable. But in her heart, a quiet suspicion took root.
Lyssara turned toward Ashen, her expression guarded. "And you, sir… what brings you and your companion this far north?"
Ashen's lips curved faintly. "Her guard," he said. "The kind that requires discretion."
"Ah." Lyssara inclined her head, though her gaze lingered on him a beat too long.
She wanted to ask why the Crown Prince of Aetherion was traveling in secret with the missing princess of Aurelthar, but wisdom held her tongue.
Elara, however, was watching her closely now.
That reaction, she thought. When I said my mother's name.
As the market's bells tolled noon, Lyssara excused herself with a polite smile and a bow. "It was an honor, Lady Elara. May fortune favor your journey."
When she disappeared into the crowd, Elara turned to Ashen. "She knows something."
"I know," he replied quietly.
Elara looked out toward the distant road, her cloak fluttering in the cold breeze. "Then we'll find out what, and why she trembled when I said my mother's name."
And somewhere in the shadows beyond the square, Lyssara stood hidden, her heart pounding as she whispered to herself, "So… the bloodline of Nytheris lives after all."
The sun had begun its slow descent, bleeding gold over the frozen ridges as Elara and Ashen left the village of Dathmere behind after they rested there for hours. The faint clatter of carts and merchant chatter faded until only the crunch of their boots on the snow-filled path remained.
For a long while, neither spoke. Elara's mind was still tangled in the image of Lyssara's face. The way her expression had stiffened the moment she'd mentioned her mother.
She knows something… I just don't know what.
"Your thoughts are loud again,"Ashen said beside her, his voice calm but faintly amused.
Elara blinked, drawn out of her reverie. "I'm just… thinking," she said curtly.
"That much is obvious."
He stopped walking then, turning slightly so that the golden light fell over his features.
"I can help you, Elara."
Elara blinked. Then, to his mild surprise, she laughed, softly at first, then with a faint shake of her head. "Help me? You?"
He frowned slightly, though not offended.
"I'm serious."
"I know," she said, still amused. "But… help me how, exactly? You've been watching my back for months, Ashen. You've seen the kind of path I'm on. The things I'm looking for aren't exactly within reach of a mercenary's sword."
He gave a small smirk. "Who said I was only a mercenary?"
She raised an eyebrow, but before she could press further, she deliberately changed the subject. "Speaking of which, what happened to that spy I captured? The one I told you to keep under custody?"
Ashen seemed to hesitate, then replied with a faint shrug. "Adam's handling him. You won't have to worry."
"Adam," Elara murmured, nodding slightly. "He's proven resourceful. Maybe I'll reward him when this is over."
Ashen's mouth twitched upward. "A reward? He'll faint from joy."
Elara chuckled, then adjusted her gloves as they resumed walking. But Ashen didn't let the matter drop.
"Elara."
She glanced back, seeing the serious look in his eyes.
"I mean it,"he said, voice low but firm. "I can help you."
She stopped this time, turning to face him fully. The fading light painted her features with a soft amber glow, her violet hair peeking from beneath her hood.
"How will you help me?"she asked, tone steady but curious.
Ashen's lips curved, not quite a smile, not quite secrecy. Something between mystery and challenge. "Follow me," he said quietly. "But promise me one thing first."
Her brow furrowed. "What is it?"
"No matter how shocked you are," he said, stepping closer, "you'll still trust me."
His tone was calm, but the gravity beneath his words sent a faint chill down her spine.
Elara folded her arms, arching a brow. "You're being cryptic again."
"Sometimes truth needs mystery to survive," he said softly.
She huffed in mild exasperation. "And I thought I was the dramatic one."
Ashen merely smiled in response, already turning toward the northern trail.
Elara sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Shouldn't we just follow Lyssara instead? She's clearly heading somewhere significant."
He looked back over his shoulder, that same faint, knowing glint in his eyes. "Trust me. The place she's heading to… is the same place I'm taking you now."
That made her pause. "You know where she's going?"
"I do," he said simply. "And if I'm right, what lies there might be exactly what you've been searching for."
Elara's expression softened with confusion, suspicion, and something else, a flicker of reluctant hope.
What is this man hiding from me?
She watched as Ashen continued ahead, his cloak billowing behind him like a shadow against the dying light.
We've traveled together for months, she thought. He's guarded me, fought beside me, shared fire and silence alike. But why now? Why offer help only after all this time?
The wind picked up, whispering across the cliffs like a voice long forgotten.
She followed him anyway.
And though she didn't know it yet, every step she took was leading her closer to the truth he'd been keeping all along.