"I knew you would come, Archon."
Aurora blinked, startled. "What—?"
The woman gripped her hand tighter, refusing to let go.
"Lumivara… Thalorien veyra… Selenithar awakens…" the woman muttered, her tongue rolling over the words like liquid fire.
It was a language Aurora had never heard before—but to her horror, she understood every word.
"We have been waiting for you, Archon. Your time has come." The woman added.
"What are you saying?" Aurora whispered, eyes wide, still struggling to free her hands.
The woman leaned closer, her eyes now red with emotion. "We buried the truth inside you… but it's waking, little star."
Aurora's lips parted. Her breath quickened. "What… what are you—"
"Your time has come. We will come for you now. We have waited long enough," she whispered.
Suddenly, loud voices.
"Your Majesty!"
Her maids—frantic. Running toward her.
The woman released Aurora, stepped back, and ran into the alley, disappearing in seconds.
Aurora stood frozen.
She did not even realize she had collapsed until her knees hit the ground.
Her maids reached her, terrified. "My lady! What happened? Are you hurt?!"
Aurora said nothing. She only stared ahead, hands trembling.
Her maids led her back to the palace. She had left in joy, but now returned in terror. She sat on the edge of her bed, silent, her hands folded tightly in her lap.
The maids did not press her. They knew whatever had shaken her was beyond their place to question. They gently wiped her hands, undressed her, bathed her feet… but her mind was far away.
A name she did not know. A language she had never learned, yet somehow understood. A prophecy she could not comprehend.
And that is what terrified her most.
She gripped the bangle on her wrist—the one from the old woman earlier—as if it could anchor her to the moment before everything shifted.
-
Ever since that day in the village market, Aurora had not known peace. Sleep came like a thief now, sudden and uneasy, and when it did, it brought with it dreams that felt more like hauntings than rest. Night after night, she found herself in a deep forest veiled with mist, surrounded by shadowy trees and glowing eyes. Whispers curled through the air, voices she did not recognize but somehow understood, calling her name again and again.
Archon…..Archon…...
Each time she would wake gasping, her white hair clinging to her damp face, heart racing as if she had run a thousand miles. She never told her maids, though they noticed the dark circles beneath her eyes and the way she often stared blankly into nothing. They asked, gently, but she would only offer a faint smile and change the subject.
This morning felt no different—perhaps worse. The royal breakfast could no longer be avoided. Ava had summoned all queens to dine together with the royal family, and declining would not only be suspicious, it would be taken as defiance. The political weight behind that meal was heavier than any crown.
Her maids dressed her carefully in a soft lavender gown embroidered with silver vines. The gown was light and flowing, but Aurora felt like she was wearing stone. As they adjusted the delicate pearl pin in her hair, she stared into the mirror, trying to gather herself.
Then she saw it.
Behind her reflection, in the mirror's polished surface, stood the woman in the cream cloak—the one from the market. Her face was partially shadowed, but her eyes burned with recognition. Aurora gasped and turned sharply.
Nothing. The chamber behind her was empty.
The maids looked up, startled. "Your Majesty?" one asked.
Aurora turned slowly back to the mirror, but the figure was gone. She forced a smile and whispered, "It is nothing," though her trembling hands betrayed her.
The walk to the royal dining hall was silent. Aurora, usually one to return polite greetings from palace staff and guards, walked as though she did not see them. Her thoughts drowned everything else. The world blurred around her. Her maids exchanged worried glances but knew better than to speak.
When the doors of the royal dining opened, she stiffened. She had expected to find only Selene and Virelda, but instead, seated at the long table were also Queen Ava and King Aldric.
She paused just for a second, caught off guard.
"Aurora," Queen Ava's calm voice called. "You are welcome. Take your seat."
Aurora quickly bowed and stepped inside, her voice low. "Forgive my lateness, Mother."
Selene arched a brow, her heavily adorned gown shimmering as she shifted irritably in her seat. Virelda did not move—her expression unreadable, but her eyes never left Aurora.
Aurora sat, spine straight, hands folded on her lap. She dared not look at Aldric, though she felt his gaze before she even sat. He had not looked away once.
Ava's soft voice filled the room. "How are you all faring, my daughters?"
Each queen answered in turn, addressing her as "Mother," as custom demanded. Aurora answered last, voice clear though slightly distant.
"I am well, Mother. I thank you."
Ava nodded, then turned to Aurora. "We have not met in some time. How was your visit to the village?"
Aurora hesitated for a heartbeat. The memory of the woman in the cloak flashed behind her eyes, and she forced the image aside.
"It was lovely, Mother," she replied gently. "I am deeply grateful for the honor of seeing the people."
Ava smiled knowingly and gestured for the servants to begin bringing the food.
Aldric, who had already begun eating before the questions began, quietly set down his fork and knife. Then, with a suddenness that startled even the guards by the door, he stood and kissed his mother's hand.
"I must take my leave," he said simply.
Ava raised her eyes, concerned. "Your Majesty, is the meal not to your taste?"
Aldric only nodded slightly. "It is enough."
He turned and strode out of the room. All but Ava rose and bowed respectfully as he passed. Aurora did not dare look up until he was gone.
The tension at the table dropped slightly, though a new one hung thick in the air. Selene poked at her food with a fork, her eyes flicking toward Aurora every now and then, annoyance plain on her face. Virelda, by contrast, remained silent, sipping slowly from her goblet, deep in thought.
Aurora was glad Queen Ava remained until the end. It shielded her from the inevitable verbal thorns the other two might have tried to throw. The moment Ava set down her cutlery and rose, Aurora did the same.
"Mother, if I may be excused," she said with a polite bow.
"You may, Aurora," Ava answered.
Aurora left in silence before Selene could say a word. Her steps quickened down the corridor, eager to escape the heavy air behind her. Her heart was not yet steady—but she was out, and for now, that was enough.
In the late afternoon light, Aldric stood alone by the balcony of his chamber, his sharp gaze cast over the distant hills beyond Velmora. A light wind stirred the velvet curtains behind him, but his thoughts were anchored elsewhere—on Aurora.
He had seen it. That flicker in her eyes at the breakfast table. A barely visible tremor, a tightening of her mouth, the ghost of fear in her expression. Most would have missed it. But he had not. He never missed anything when it came to her.
What happened in the market?
He turned from the view with a frown, brushing a hand through his dark hair. His mind would not let it go. She had sent a letter of gratitude after her outing, yes. Polite. Composed. But something had shifted since her return, and it disturbed him more than he was willing to admit.
Without another thought, he called for his guards. His cloak thrown over his shoulder, sword resting at his hip, he strode out of the chamber with purpose. The guards flanked him quickly. Commander Kael—his most trusted—appeared at his side, as always.
They arrived at Aurora's quarters moments later. A maid stepped forward and bowed deeply.
"She is not inside, Your Majesty," she said carefully, eyes to the floor.
Aldric's brows drew together. Before he could speak, Kael stepped closer. "She often spends her evenings in the garden," he said.
Aldric gave a single nod and turned without a word.
The garden was quieter than usual.
The sun had dipped low, casting a warm golden hue over the trimmed hedges and the blooming white roses Aurora had personally tended to. There, beneath the tall apricot tree, she sat.
Dressed simply in a lavender gown that fluttered with the wind, her white hair falling like a river over her shoulders, she looked like she belonged in a story too beautiful to be real. But she was not smiling. Her eyes were distant, fixed on something no one else could see. Her maids sat quietly around her, sensing her mood and saying nothing.
When Aldric stepped into the garden, all movement halted.
The maids quickly stood and bowed, murmuring "Your Majesty." Aurora, startled, rose at once and bowed as well. But Aldric gestured softly with a hand.
"Remain seated," he said. His voice was calm, even—yet commanding.
Aurora obeyed, but slowly. Aldric walked toward her, every step deliberate. He stood before her for a moment, gazing down at her. Then, unexpectedly, he gestured to the empty marble bench across from her and sat.
"Sit," he said again, softer this time.
Aurora stood, approached the bench, and sat carefully, her posture proper, though her hands were slightly clenched in her lap.
With a wave of his hand, Aldric dismissed the guards and the maids. Commander Kael led them away without a word, leaving the king and his queen alone in the fading light.
A heavy silence settled between them.
Then Aurora lifted her gaze for a moment, though she did not meet his eyes, and said quietly, "Thank you, Your Majesty, for allowing me to leave the palace. It was a kind gesture."
"You already thanked me in writing," Aldric said, his eyes still fixed on her. "But you deserved it. Even though I feared…" He paused, tone dipped in something unreadable. "I feared you might flee."
Aurora's eyes widened slightly. She swallowed and cleared her throat.
Aldric leaned back, hands resting on his knees, his gaze sharp but unreadable. "You did not," he added. "You came back. That matters."
There was another pause.
"Still," he continued, his voice softer now, "do not let your thoughts wander toward escape. Aurora… you belong here, with me. You are mine."
His tone was not harsh—but to Aurora, it settled like iron around her neck. The way he said mine made her shift uncomfortably in her seat. A shiver ran through her though the air was warm. The word was not shouted, nor was it cruel, but it wrapped around her like a soft leash. And that frightened her more than anger would have.
Aldric watched her, taking in every subtle movement—her darting gaze, the tension in her shoulders, the careful way she breathed.
Then, as if he could feel the growing unease, he changed the subject.
"What happened in the market?" he asked.
Aurora's breath caught for a moment. Her eyes lifted to his—just briefly. In that second, Aldric read something in them he could not name.
"I noticed it this morning," he said. "Your expression changed. You have been quiet since."
Aurora looked away, her voice carefully measured. "Nothing happened, Your Majesty. I was simply… overwhelmed. I suppose I was not used to being around that many people."
Aldric's eyes narrowed, not with suspicion, but with recognition of a lie. A gentle lie. A guarded truth.
He did not press.
"If you need anything," he said at last, "anything at all… tell me."
Aurora bowed her head. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
He did not reply immediately. He simply watched her for a moment longer, then stood. He gave a small nod, turned, and left the garden with quiet steps, his guards falling into place behind him.
Aurora watched him go, her chest tight.
She did not fear Aldric the way she once had. His presence no longer made her flinch—but it still made her uneasy. There was something in him that felt… unpredictable. He was not the tyrant she had imagined. But he was not soft either. And the way he looked at her sometimes made her feel as though he saw something in her she herself did not yet understand.
When the maids returned, they were hesitant, unsure of her mood. Aurora, sensing it, softened.
"I'd like some grapes," she said gently.
The maids' faces lit up in relief. They bowed and hurried off in joy. It had been days since she requested anything for herself.
Aurora leaned back on the bench, letting the wind brush her face. Yet beneath her quiet stillness, something lingered. Not the king. Not the palace.
But the woman in the cloak. The name—Archon. And the whispers in the forest of her dreams.