Chapter 25: The Void Princess
**THE NORTHERN STAR - DAY THREE AT SEA**
The ocean had its own rhythm—waves rising and falling, wind filling sails, the creak of wood under strain. Hexia had learned this rhythm over three days of travel, his body adapting to constant motion the way it adapted to most things: with resigned acceptance.
He stood at the bow, watching dolphins race the ship, their bodies cutting through water with effortless grace. Behind him, the sounds of training—Sirenia and Lhoralaine sparring on the deck, their weapons clashing in patterns they'd refined over months of practice.
"You're brooding again," Captain Bjorn said, appearing at his elbow with the silent grace that belied his stocky build. "Bad habit, that. Ocean doesn't care about your thoughts."
"I'm contemplating."
"Human distinction without difference." Bjorn pulled out a pipe, began packing it with tobacco. "What's weighing on you? The princess?"
"Among other things." Hexia glanced at the dwarf. "You know her? Princess Nerissa?"
"Know *of* her. Royal family keeps to themselves, mostly. But rumors travel, even to sea dogs like me." Bjorn lit his pipe, the smoke sweet and pungent. "They say she's different. Marked. Powerful in ways that make the military nervous."
"Void magic."
"So the rumors say. Not darkness—actual void. Creation and destruction woven together." He puffed thoughtfully. "Dwarven military doesn't like unknowns. Makes them twitchy. And a princess wielding power they can't control or understand? That's extra twitchy."
"Will they let us see her?"
"That's the question, isn't it?" Bjorn studied Hexia with sharp eyes. "You're planning to walk into Ironforge, a human hero bearing divine marks, and ask to speak with their princess about a prophecy that demands she abandon her duties and sail off to fight god-monsters. You realize how that sounds?"
"Insane?"
"Suicidal. But also..." Bjorn grinned. "Exactly the kind of mad plan that might work if executed properly. Dwarves respect courage. Boldness. Direct action. You come in meek and apologetic, they'll dismiss you. But you come in strong and honest? Might get their attention."
"And if they decide to throw us in their dungeon instead?"
"Then you break out and I sail away claiming I never met you." Bjorn's grin widened. "But I don't think it'll come to that. You've got an honest face. Haunted, but honest."
A shout from the crow's nest interrupted them. "SHIP APPROACHING! TWO POINTS STARBOARD!"
Everyone on deck turned, hands moving to weapons out of instinct. Pirates weren't uncommon on these waters—the ocean between continents was vast enough for lawlessness to thrive.
Bjorn pulled out a spyglass, studied the approaching vessel. "Dwarven military frigate. Three-masted. Running Kingdom colors." He lowered the glass. "Probably just patrol. But stay ready. Military types sometimes get ideas about inspecting 'suspicious' vessels."
The frigate drew closer—sleek, fast, bristling with ballistas and what looked like early cannon emplacements. Dwarven efficiency made manifest in naval warfare.
It pulled alongside, close enough for voices to carry across water.
"NORTHERN STAR! PREPARE FOR INSPECTION!" The voice boomed from a massive dwarf in military armor. "LOWER YOUR SAILS AND AWAIT BOARDING!"
Bjorn sighed. "This is irregular. We're three days from Ar-Modan, well within regular trade routes. Something's wrong."
"Should we resist?" Sirenia asked quietly, moving beside Hexia.
"No. Not yet. Let's see what they want." Hexia's hand rested on his sword hilt—not threatening, just ready. "If it's just standard inspection, we cooperate. If it's something else..."
"Then we reassess," Lhoralaine finished, her twin swords visible but not drawn.
The boarding party consisted of twelve dwarves—all military, all armed, all moving with practiced coordination. Their leader approached Bjorn, ignoring the human passengers initially.
"Captain Ironheart. Your manifest shows you're carrying passengers bound for Ar-Modan. We need to verify identities."
"Since when does the Ironforge Navy inspect passenger lists three days out?" Bjorn's voice carried irritation. "We're a registered trade vessel with proper documentation."
"Since we received word that a marked individual might be attempting to enter the kingdom." The dwarf's eyes swept across the deck, landing on Hexia with laser focus. "You. Human. Show me your right hand."
The deck went silent.
Hexia held up his right hand, the hexagram mark glowing faintly through his glove. "Looking for this?"
The military dwarves tensed, hands moving to weapons. The leader's expression shifted from professional to shocked. "You're... you're him. The chosen hero. The one from the prophecy."
"Apparently." Hexia's voice remained flat. "Is that a problem?"
"That depends. Are you heading to Ironforge to meet Princess Nerissa?"
"Eventually, yes. We planned to approach through proper diplomatic channels."
"Too late for that." The dwarf's expression was grim. "Princess Nerissa sent us. She's been having dreams about you for the past week. Dreams showing the mark, your face, a meeting that would 'change everything.' When she told her father—King Murin—he ordered immediate search for any marked individuals attempting to enter the kingdom."
Sirenia and Lhoralaine exchanged glances. This was unexpected.
"So... we're under arrest?" Hexia asked carefully.
"No. We're your escort." The dwarf actually smiled—fierce and approving. "The princess specifically ordered that if we found you, we were to bring you directly to Ironforge. Immediately. With all honor due to a prophesied hero."
"That's... surprisingly straightforward."
"Dwarves prefer straightforward. Saves time." The leader extended his hand. "Sergeant Ironshield. Pleasure to meet you, Hero Hexia. The princess is very eager to meet you."
Hexia shook, noting the grip—firm, respectful, testing. "The feeling is mutual. Though I'm surprised she knows about us."
"Void magic brings dreams. Prophecies. Visions of connections not yet made." Magnus gestured to his men. "We'll escort the *Northern Star* directly to Ironforge's royal docks. Captain Bjorn, adjust your heading. You're about to get the honor of docking at the palace waterfront."
Bjorn's eyebrows rose to his hairline. "The royal docks? I've been sailing for thirty years and never once—"
"First time for everything. Princess's orders supersede protocol." Magnus turned back to Hexia. "Fair warning—when we dock, there'll be ceremony. Royal guards, probably the king himself, definitely court officials. Act respectful but not submissive. Dwarves respect strength in others."
"Noted."
"Also—don't stare at the princess's void manifestations. They're unsettling even to us, and we've seen them since she was twelve. Just... accept it as normal."
"What kind of manifestations?"
"You'll see. Can't really explain void magic to someone who doesn't wield it." Magnus headed back to his ship. "Three days to Ironforge! Make yourselves presentable! You're meeting royalty!"
As the military frigate fell into escort position, Bjorn let out a long whistle. "Well. That's not how I expected this to go."
"Is it better or worse?" Lhoralaine asked.
"Unclear. We're getting royal treatment, which is good. But we're also under military escort, which means we're being watched closely." Bjorn puffed his pipe thoughtfully. "Act carefully. King Murin is fair but protective of his daughter. And Princess Nerissa is... complicated."
"Complicated how?" Sirenia's curiosity was evident.
"Let's just say there's a reason she's eager to meet you." Bjorn's expression turned serious. "The void magic isolates her. Makes other dwarves uncomfortable. She's powerful, royal, respected—but also alone in ways that matter. A hero who understands being marked? Being chosen? That's probably the first person she's met who might truly understand."
Hexia absorbed this, recognizing something familiar. Isolation. Power that separated rather than connected. The weight of expectations that crushed rather than elevated.
"I understand," he said quietly.
"Thought you might." Bjorn headed back to the wheel. "Three days. Make them count. Because once we dock, everything changes."
---
**THREE DAYS LATER - IRONFORGE ROYAL DOCKS**
The approach to Ironforge was breathtaking.
Mountains rose from the sea like the bones of ancient titans—jagged peaks that scraped clouds, valleys carved by millennia of wind and water. And built into those mountains, impossible yet undeniable—a city.
Ironforge wasn't built on a mountain. It was built *in* one.
Massive carved archways served as gates. Windows glowed from within stone like jewels set in volcanic glass. Waterfalls cascaded from impossible heights, their spray creating rainbows that danced in afternoon light. And everywhere—engineering marvels. Bridges that shouldn't span those distances. Aqueducts that defied gravity. Mechanisms that turned water into power into light.
"Gods," Lhoralaine breathed. "It's magnificent."
"It's home," Sergeant said proudly, his frigate keeping perfect formation with the *Northern Star*. "Two thousand years of dwarven engineering. We don't build cities. We carve them from the world's bones."
The royal docks emerged from the mountain's base—protected harbor with water so clear you could see the bottom fifty feet down. Ships lined the massive stone quays, but the central dock was empty, reserved.
For them.
As they approached, Hexia could see the welcoming party. Dozens of figures in military formation. Banners bearing the Ironforge crest—hammer and mountain, silver on black. And at the center, impossible to miss—
A massive dwarf in full royal regalia. King Murin, obviously. Six feet tall (giant for a dwarf), shoulders that could carry the mountain itself, beard braided with gold and mithril thread. His presence was gravitational—you noticed him the way you noticed thunderstorms.
Beside him, a woman of equal stature—Queen Brunhilde, wearing armor that was somehow both ceremonial and functional. Her eyes were sharp, assessing, missing nothing.
And between them...
Princess Nerissa Nassiren.
Sixteen years old but carrying herself with composure beyond her age. Long violet hair that seemed to move in wind that didn't exist. Purple eyes that held depths that made Hexia's stomach twist with recognition—someone who'd looked into darkness and brought pieces back.
She was beautiful in the way storms were beautiful—dangerous, powerful, undeniable.
And on her right hand, glowing even from this distance—a hexagram mark identical to his own.
The *Northern Star* docked with practiced precision. Bjorn's crew secured lines while Hexia, Sirenia, and Lhoralaine prepared to disembark.
"Remember," Magnus said quietly. "Respectful but strong. They're evaluating you."
"Understood."
They descended the gangplank—three humans walking into the heart of dwarven power, watched by hundreds of eyes, judged by every step.
King Murin's voice boomed across the dock. "HERO HEXIA! WIELDER OF LIGHT! CHOSEN OF PROPHECY! WELCOME TO IRONFORGE!"
Hexia stopped before the royal family, taking in their measure. Murin—powerful, protective, curious. Brunhilde—analytical, wary, reserving judgment. And Nerissa—
Her eyes locked with his. Recognition flared between them—not romance, but understanding. Two people who'd been marked, changed, isolated by powers they'd never asked for.
She smiled. Small, genuine, relieved.
"Finally," her voice was soft but carried perfectly in the sudden silence. "Someone who might understand."
Hexia smiled back—equally small, equally genuine. "The feeling is mutual, Princess."
King Murin's booming laugh broke the tension. "HAH! Told you, daughter! The boy has manners! Come! All of you! We feast tonight! Tomorrow we discuss prophecies and doom! Tonight we celebrate meetings that were always meant to be!"
He swept forward, his massive hand gripping Hexia's shoulder with enough force to stagger a lesser person. "You've traveled far, Hero. You and your companions—what are their names?"
"Sirenia and Lhoralaine. My companions. Both A-rank adventurers."
"A-rank! Excellent! Strong women at your side—that's wisdom!" Murin's approval was genuine. "Come! Meet my daughter properly! Meet the engineers and smiths who serve her! Meet the kingdom that will host you while we determine if prophecy is madness or truth!"
As they were swept into the procession toward the palace proper, Nerissa moved to walk beside Hexia. Close enough for private conversation amid the chaos.
"I've been dreaming about you for weeks," she said quietly. "Dreams of light and darkness meeting. Of six points forming a star. Of the world ending in fire unless we act."
"I've been having similar dreams. Less specific, but similar themes."
"The void shows me things. Futures. Possibilities. Connections." Her purple eyes studied him. "You're broken. Like me. Different breaks, but similar damage."
"Is it that obvious?"
"To someone who knows what to look for? Yes." She smiled sadly. "We're going to be friends, Hexia. I saw that too. Not romance—neither of us is capable of that right now. But friendship. Understanding. Alliance against the darkness."
"I'd like that."
"Good. Because you're going to need my help navigating dwarven politics. And I'm going to need your help convincing my father that abandoning my duties to save the world is actually the responsible choice." Her smile turned mischievous. "Think you can handle that?"
"Probably not. But I'll try anyway."
"That's the spirit."
They entered Ironforge proper—carved tunnels wide enough for armies, lit by crystals that glowed with inner light, decorated with centuries of artistic achievement. Every surface told stories in stone—battles won, kings crowned, engineering marvels achieved.
And walking through it—a human hero who'd never wanted to be one, flanked by companions who'd chosen him despite his brokenness, about to meet engineers and smiths who would become his allies in facing apocalypse.
The second hero found. Four more to go.
But for tonight—for this moment—Hexia allowed himself to feel something other than dread.
Hope. Fragile and tentative. But real.
Because he wasn't alone anymore. And neither was Nerissa.
Two broken people, marked by prophecy, walking together into an uncertain future.
It wasn't much.
But it was enough.
---
**TO BE CONTINUED...**
*The Void Hero met. The alliance begins. Tomorrow brings introductions to Durgan and Durin—engineer and smith, thunder and innovation.*
*Tomorrow brings planning, training, understanding what it means when light and void work together.*
*Tomorrow brings the next step toward saving a world that neither hero particularly likes but both refuse to let burn.*
*But tonight? Tonight they feast. Tonight they rest. Tonight they're just people, not prophecies.*
*And that has to be enough.*
*Because tomorrow, the real work begins.*