The palace corridors were nothing like the clean, efficient hallways of a hospital.
They were wide enough to swallow sound, lined with tall stained-glass windows that caught torchlight and shattered it into colors across the marble floors. Banners bearing a silver crescent crowned by a star hung from vaulted arches. The air smelled faintly of incense and something floral Aarav couldn't identify.
He walked beside Kaelith, flanked by two guards who tried—and failed—not to stare at him.
"So," Aarav said, breaking the silence, "do you summon all your guests by ripping them out of their lives, or am I special?"
Kaelith glanced at him. "You are… unprecedented."
"That's not reassuring."
One of the guards coughed, hiding a smile. Kaelith shot him a warning look.
They reached a pair of massive doors etched with runes. As they opened, warm light spilled into the corridor.
Inside was a private receiving chamber. Soft cushions, low tables, and a tall window overlooking the capital city far below. Lanterns drifted in the air, floating gently as if carried by invisible currents.
Aarav stepped inside and immediately noticed the view.
The city glowed.
Spiral towers, crystal-lit bridges, streets lined with glowing orbs instead of lamps. Flying creatures—some like birds, others like winged beasts—glided across the sky in the distance.
"…Okay," Aarav admitted. "Your city is unfairly beautiful."
Kaelith's lips twitched. "You haven't seen it in daylight."
A servant entered quietly, carrying a tray of steaming cups. The aroma was unfamiliar but comforting.
"Drink," Kaelith said. "Moonleaf tea. It stabilizes mana shock."
Aarav accepted the cup, sniffed it, then took a cautious sip.
It tasted like warm citrus and something herbal.
"That's… actually good."
Kaelith relaxed a fraction. "You trust easily."
"I trust my senses," Aarav corrected. "And your mage would've told you not to poison me. I'm apparently your last hope."
Kaelith gave a low huff of amusement. "True."
They sat across from each other.
Up close, Kaelith looked younger than Aarav had first thought. The weight in his eyes wasn't age—it was responsibility.
"You said your world has different… genders," Aarav said. "Explain that part slowly. I'm a doctor. I need details, not myths."
Kaelith nodded. "In Elyndor, we are divided by secondary nature. Enigma, Alpha, Omega, and Beta."
Aarav raised an eyebrow. "You're not talking about personality types."
"No," Kaelith said. "They are biological and magical traits."
Liora, the royal mage, stepped in quietly and took a seat nearby. "Your body is currently stabilizing as an Alpha."
Aarav nearly choked on his tea. "As a what."
"Alpha," Kaelith repeated. "A dominant class. Warriors, leaders, those with high physical and mana output."
"That sounds like a stereotype," Aarav said. "I'm a surgeon, not a warlord."
"Alpha does not mean violent," Liora said. "It means resilient."
Aarav exhaled slowly. "And the others?"
"Omegas are attuned to healing and diplomacy," Kaelith explained. "Betas are the majority—balanced, adaptable."
"And Enigma?" Aarav asked, glancing at Kaelith.
Silence fell for half a heartbeat.
Kaelith's fingers tightened around his cup. "Enigmas are rare. Our bloodlines shape the fate of nations."
"That sounds like a political nightmare."
Kaelith's mouth curved faintly. "It is."
Aarav studied him. The way the guards kept a respectful distance. The way Liora watched him with quiet awe. The weight of expectation pressing into his posture.
"Let me guess," Aarav said. "People fear you."
"They fear what they don't understand," Kaelith replied.
Aarav leaned back. "On Earth, people feared geniuses too. Not because we're dangerous. Because we remind them of what they aren't."
Kaelith's eyes flicked up, startled.
For a moment, neither spoke.
The silence wasn't awkward.
It was… shared.
Aarav broke it first. "You called me Sage. Why?"
Kaelith hesitated. "In our prophecy, the one summoned from another world is called the Sage—one who heals both land and heart."
Aarav snorted. "That's a lot of pressure for someone who just wants a shower and eight hours of sleep."
Kaelith chuckled before he could stop himself.
The sound seemed to surprise him.
Aarav smiled faintly. "There it is. You're human after all. Well—whatever counts as human here."
Kaelith cleared his throat, composure snapping back into place. "You will be given chambers in the inner palace. You are under royal protection."
"House arrest," Aarav translated.
"Protection," Kaelith corrected.
"Same thing with better decor."
Liora laughed openly. "I like him."
Kaelith shot her a look. "He is not a pet curiosity."
"I know," she said lightly. "He's worse. He questions things."
Kaelith's gaze returned to Aarav. "You are not required to fix our world immediately. Rest. Recover. Learn our ways."
Aarav stood. "I will. But understand this—I help people because I choose to. Not because I'm summoned."
Kaelith met his eyes.
"Then choose us," the prince said quietly.
Something in his voice wasn't royal command.
It was… hope.
Aarav looked out the window at the glowing city, the sky that wasn't his, the world that had decided to pull him into its story without asking.
"…I'll stay for now," he said. "But I'm not your miracle. I'm just a doctor."
Kaelith's lips curved, soft and almost relieved.
"In Aethoria," he said, "those are often the same thing."
And for the first time since arriving, Aarav felt the faintest sense that he wasn't just a tool of prophecy.
He was a person.
And someone, impossibly, was already seeing him that way.
_____