Granny Suri's Cottage, Roselight Hollow
A faint whisper of falling water echoed nearby, followed by the creak of a bucket being drawn up from the old well.
"Ugh… if only it had rained yesterday, I wouldn't have to water these lavender flowers…" Granny Suri grunted as she hauled up another bucket.
She paused, resting her hands on the rim. "Maybe I should create a spell for menial work like this… In the past, I didn't need to do any of this when he was still here."
With a soft sigh, she poured the water over the tilted soil behind the cottage, where bushes of fragrant lavender bloomed.
"The cool shade from the light piercing through the trees is already fading… I should visit her before the moon rises."
Granny Suri set the bucket down, her gaze lingering on the cottage.
After a short while
Suri stepped out and shut the door, securing it with a small metallic lock. The circular key slid neatly onto her index finger like a ring.
"Let's get going," she sighed, smiling faintly.
Forest Path Leading to the Womb, Roselight Hollow
Granny Suri walked slowly, leaning on her cane and adjusting her tiny red glasses.
"What's going on there…?" she muttered, squinting down the dirt path ahead.
Two small children lay sprawled in the middle of the trail, fast asleep.
"That's Tera and Merry… These kids…" She sighed. "I warned them not to wander this deep into the forest."
She approached them.
Tera lay flat on his back, a mop of messy black hair framing his face. His green eyes were dull and lifeless, a blade of grass stuck between his teeth. His shirt was untucked, and his shorts bore at least three different stains.
Granny Suri slapped his cheek lightly a few times. "Not waking up… Looks like Hypnos are feeding on their dreams."
Beside him lay Merry. Her snow-white hair shimmered faintly beneath the sunlight filtering through the canopy. Though her violet eyes were open, she remained unconscious.
"Hypnos feeding on dreams is never a good sign," Suri muttered, straightening Merry's lilac dress. "They aren't dying—just trapped in a light coma. Not dangerous… unless we consider the fact that other monsters might wander out of the forest."
With another sigh, Granny Suri straightened and lifted her cane. One by one, she pressed its tip gently to their foreheads.
"Blossom of Prana, Kaelya—grant these children the will to resist."
The elements stirred. A soft green ripple of light shimmered through the air before fading.
"Huh?"
Merry and Tera blinked at the same time, slowly sitting up.
"Granny Suri?" Merry gasped when she saw her standing over them.
"Old hag?" Tera scooted backward instinctively.
"Old hag?" Granny Suri's eyes flashed with dangerous color as she tapped Tera's head sharply with her cane. "Is that how you address the one who just saved you? I warned you not to come here, and I pulled you out of a dream-feeding trance. WHERE ARE YOUR MANNERS?"
"AAAH!" Tera jumped to his feet and bolted toward the village.
"DAMN—THE OLD HAG IS MAD!"
"I-I'm sorry, Granny Suri…" Merry said, standing shakily. "I'll be more careful next time… I won't tag along with Tera again…"
Granny Suri raised her cane and tapped Merry's head as well. "Don't you dare lie to me. I know perfectly well this little adventure was your idea."
Merry yelped and ran after Tera. "Damn… she's really mad…"
"WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING?" Granny Suri shouted after them. "I'M HAVING A LONG TALK WITH YOUR PARENTS AFTER THIS!"
Clicking her tongue, she turned back toward the forest path and resumed her walk.
As she continued walking, the forest around her began to bend. The trees tilted inward, their trunks leaning toward the depths as though silently guiding her forward.
After some time, Granny Suri arrived.
It was an open clearing within the forest—a vast, circular depression carved into the earth. A raised rim encircled it, and flat stone slabs spiraled outward from the center like the remnants of an ancient design.
"The Hollow…" Granny Suri whispered as she carefully slid down toward its heart.
Reaching the center, she straightened her back and rested her cane beside her.
"Please… allow me an audience," she murmured.
The ground beneath her feet trembled.
A flower bud pushed up through the soil, swelling rapidly. White petals unfurled and climbed, wrapping around her form until Granny Suri was completely enclosed within the bloom.
"Thank you…" her voice whispered from inside.
Moments later, the flower bloomed fully.
Granny Suri was gone.
The Womb of Arian
Granny Suri opened her eyes to complete darkness and began to walk.
After a few steps, light slowly returned.
With each step forward, the biting cold loosened its grip, retreating as it always did.
A pond emerged before her, nestled within a lush glade—a rare oasis of green in a frost-bound world. At the sight of the beautiful grove, Suri smiled, her heart growing lighter.
As she moved closer to the water, her gaze drifted toward a nearby tree. Its leaves were thick and plentiful, its bark rough and rugged, and the shade it cast was pleasantly warm. She placed her hands against the trunk, where words had been carved—clumsy and hurried.
This was a place where death dared not tread.
The Womb of Arian—a sacred refuge untouched by decay.
The air shimmered with ancestral life, every breath filled with the lullabies of the land itself.
Waters whispered secrets older than the stars, glowing with hues of emerald, aquamarine, and something deeper—like the soul of nature exhaling peace.
Granny Suri's voice echoed softly through the grove as she read the words she once carved.
"Reading the words you etched in your youth?"
A gentle voice rippled across the oasis.
Granny Suri lifted her gaze toward the pond and walked closer.
There—upon the surface of the water—floated Kaelya.
She lay half-submerged, her back cradled by the gentle current. Long obsidian hair fanned out around her, tangled with silken vines and translucent petals that formed her living garments. It looked less like rest and more like she was dissolving into the world itself—slowly, dreamily, and alone.
"Please don't mind the words of a clumsy child," Granny Suri said softly.
She sat at the pond's edge, removing her boots and letting her feet sink into the water.
Throne Room, Aethercastle
Queen Minerva stood below the dais, her attention fixed not on the thrones but on the space between them.
"The coronation is in six days," she said. "Nothing about this hall should invite interpretation."
The High Steward inclined his head. "Yes, Your Majesty."
"The structure remains unchanged," Minerva continued. "All symbols of lineage stay where they are. This is a succession, not a severance."
A quiet acknowledgment followed.
She gestured subtly toward the dais. "Adjust the lighting above the central throne—barely. The oath must be clear, not theatrical."
Notes were taken.
"The banners along the eastern balcony should be raised slightly. From the noble tiers, the eye must be drawn forward—to the heir—without diminishing the crown beside him."
Her gaze shifted briefly to the long carpet leading to the dais.
"No additions. No ceremony that turns the walk into a display. He proceeds as Crown Prince, not as spectacle."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Minerva paused, then added, her tone cool and final, "Ensure the court is arranged so that unity is seen—and nothing else is questioned."
The stewards bowed and withdrew.
Left alone, Minerva ascended the dais and stopped before the central throne. For a moment, she rested her hand against its armrest—steady, composed.
Then she turned away.