Mmm… what is that delicious smell…?
I'm starving.
I crack one eye open and see Grogher busy preparing a breakfast worthy of legends.
He's toasting slices of elven bread over the fire.
On a flat stone nearby, three steaming cups are already waiting—
I sniff the air. Mint infusion, I'd say, judging by the scent.
Beside him, Sidae is devouring something out of an enormous trough, while Raertha and Hercules calmly graze on hay.
I stretch. Yawn.
"Good morning…" I mumble.
"Good morning!" Dorcha answers, his voice amused.
I turn my head—slowly.
By all the clouds!
He's sitting right beside me!
Staring.
I hurriedly wipe my mouth. Please tell me I didn't drool in my sleep.
Apparently not.
That doesn't stop my face from going up in flames.
I try to play it cool, get up, and offer an awkward smile.
Then I walk over to Grogher and plant a quick kiss on his cheek.
Finally, I sit down and grab a generous slice of bread.
-----
Look at her.
He gets a kiss… and I don't?
"This bread is amazing!" she exclaims.
"It really is. We should ask the elven head cook for the recipe when we return," Grogher replies, nodding in full agreement.
I'm a little irritated.
I stand and move closer to her.
"May I have a slice too?" I ask.
Maybe my tone sounds more offended than I meant, because she suddenly blushes.
Damn it. That wasn't my intention.
As she hands me the bread, our eyes meet—and for a moment, the world fades away.
She has a beautiful smile…
"Uh—" Grogher clears his throat, "—isn't it a bit too eaaaarly to bring out the candles?"
Huh?
I turn to look at him. Aileen does the same.
We burst out laughing.
He joins us a second later.
"All right, eat up now," he says. "We've got a long and demanding day ahead."
-----
Once breakfast is over, we clean the clearing, leaving it as untouched as it was before our arrival. Then we prepare for flight.
I steal another glance at the cliff we're supposed to reach—and at the abyss separating it from our plateau.
No point lying to myself.
I'm terrified.
My chest tightens.
I've never flown before.
What if I lose my balance and fall?
What if Raertha doesn't notice in time—
what if she can't catch me?
What if—
"Get on and close your eyes," Dorcha says, guiding Raertha to my side.
"We'll be across before you even have time to open them again."
He's right…
If I keep my eyes shut, maybe it'll work.
So why does my stomach feel like it's dropping through the ground?
My legs are shaking.
I look at Dorcha.
His gaze is steady. Certain.
Everything will be fine.
If he says so, it will be.
I take a breath and climb up.
With a single leap, Dorcha and Grogher are already mounted on Hercules and Sidae.
And now… what are they doing?
As if perfectly coordinated, Sidae, Raertha, and Hercules step back together—at least thirty paces.
Then they charge.
At full gallop.
Straight toward the edge.
We're going to fall!!!
I freeze.
Close your eyes, close your eyes, close your eyeeeeee "AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!"
At the very last second, their wings spread wide.
And—
we're flying.
Actually flying.
…
Wait.
Are we already there?
…
Dorcha was right.
We're already on the gnomes' cliff.
Relief crashes over me.
Get down.
I need to get down.
Now.
I slide off, my legs trembling like leaves in the wind, and bend over with a long, shaky breath.
Alive.
We're… still… alive.
-----
She got quite a scare.
I step closer and rest a hand on her back.
"That wasn't so bad," I tell her.
She turns toward me—and suddenly bursts out laughing, dropping flat onto the grass.
She's completely mad…
I offer her my hand and help her up.
She's fine. Definitely fine.
Relief loosens something in my chest.
"Hey, guys—come take a looook!"
We turn.
What's he doing there, leaning over the inner wall of the cliff?
He's staring down…
Curious, we join him—and—
By the stones.
It's incredible.
I'd heard stories about it, sure, but I never imagined anything like this.
The inner depth of the cliff seems immeasurable.
Perfectly conical, plunging straight down—and through it, two parallel rainbows cascade:
one blazing with the vivid colors of the sun,
the other washed in the pale, milky hues of the moon.
At each color band, villages cling to the rock.
Their homes mirror the tones of the rainbows, descending in measured terraces along the cliff face.
There are… three… seven… fourteen settlements in total.
And far below—so far it's barely more than a glittering speck—something flashes with scattered light.
Of course.
It can only be the Starry Sea.
Urchoicha once told me it holds inexhaustible diamond veins.
And at the very heart of the mountain, high within the rock itself—there it is.
The Royal Castle of the Gnomes.
Majestic.
Standing on a vast, level clearing, surrounded by an immense park.
Except…
"This place is… magnificent," Aileen breathes, awestruck.
"Hm," I murmur, thoughtful.
"What is it?" she asks, suddenly tense.
"Those clouds," I say. "Too dark. They look like the ones over Cloudland."
I nod.
But that's not the only thing troubling me.
"Did you notice the banner on the tower? It's black," I add.
"Something must have happened."
"Do you think it's already the effect of the Parchment?" she asks.
"That it's already too late?"
I hear the fear in her voice.
I'm not convinced.
The clouds could be a sign, sure—but the banner…
"I don't thiiink so," I reply.
"Those clouds are still too few. Too far away to raise the alaaaarm."
Exactly.
"Let's request an audience with the Sovereigns," Aileen decides.
"Whatever has happened here, we can't forget our priority: restoring the Parchment."
We agree.
Mount up again.
Urge our mounts forward toward the great plain.
-----
We reach the entrrrance of the park surrounding the castle.
A group of soldiers advances toward us.
Every one of them has a hand ready on the hilt.
I tighten my grip on my flail.
I sense Dorcha doing the same with his sword.
Best to stay alerrrt in situations like this.
The gnome at the front wears armor studded with medals, a cloak draped over his shoulders.
He must be their captain.
He steps in front of us and glares, openly hostile.
"Halt! Who goes there?" he demands.
Aileen steps forward, lifts her chin proudly, and meets his gaze head-on.
She's got guts, that girl.
"I am Aileen, Princess of Cloudland," she says.
"At my sides stand the knights entrusted with my protection by my Sovereigns:
Sir Dorcha and Sir Grogher.
We have come to request an audience with King Ciallmhar and his consort, Queen Bànrion.
We await your announcement."
The gnome casts a perplexed glance at our animal companions.
"And them?" he asks.
Aileen answers without hesitation.
"If you would be so kind as to see to their needs, they will wait in your stables."
The soldier inclines his head slightly, a gesture of respect—and approval.
"As you wish, Your Highness. Follow me."
The first act is complete.
-----
The captain and his guards escort us inside the castle.
The park is breathtaking.
As far as the eye can see, manicured paths weave through rolling lawns, bubbling fountains, fruit-laden trees, and thousands of vibrant flowers.
I've never breathed in a scent this intense.
It's a shame Raertha and the others are in the stables—they'd have a field day running through this place.
At the main gate, two sentinels await us, each holding a spear.
The captain steps away from us, moves to stand between them.
"We have an audience. Let them pass," he orders curtly.
The two gnomes bow slightly, strike their spears against the ground, and touch two precise points on the gate.
The doors open on their own.
We enter.
I lift my gaze—and stop short, mouth falling open.
The entrance hall is enormous.
And exquisitely refined.
Everything is opal, reflecting a constant spectrum of color.
From here rise three vast staircases, seemingly endless, converging at a single point above.
They are magnificent—polished white marble, bright as the most radiant clouds.
The captain leads us up the left stairway, guiding us through the wings of the manor toward the Throne Room.
Each wing is crafted from a different precious stone, echoing the colors of the fourteen villages in a riot of natural hues:
Floors, walls, windows, railings—
all fashioned from sapphires, emeralds, angelite, amber, rhodonite, diamonds and moonstone, rubies, imperial topaz, gold, malachite, kyanite, ametrine, and amethyst.
My mother once told me gnomes liked to overdo things—
but I never imagined this much.
Above us hang enormous crystal chandeliers, arranged so sunlight passes through them, scattering rainbows everywhere.
Statues line the halls.
Even those, carved from fine marble, bear the likenesses of the most ancient and illustrious figures of the Gnome Kingdom—a testament to the grandeur of this people.
After what feels like endless corridors, halls, and more corridors still, we stop before a door taller than any other.
Carved into the upper lintel are two crossed crowns, with a smaller, more delicate coronet set between them.
No doubt about it.
This is the Throne Room.
"Please wait here, Your Highness," the captain says.
He offers a courteous bow—and disappears inside.
We exchange glances.
Silent. Thoughtful.
None of us truly knows what awaits us.
After all, aside from the destruction of the Sigillum—something only we and the elves are aware of—this should be a time of peace.
Which makes the soldiers' defensiveness all the more troubling.
And then there's the black banner flying atop the tower.
I can't help wondering what could have happened that was grave enough to raise it.