The mark on Elaria's skin had been quiet for hours.
Too quiet.
She stood at the edge of the forest clearing, the dawn air cool against her cheeks, when the symbol on her wrist suddenly burned not with pain, but with purpose. The glow deepened, spreading in delicate threads across her skin like living light.
Elaria gasped.
"What is happening now?"
The forest answered first. The wind stilled. Birds froze mid-song. Even the leaves seemed to hold their breath.
Then the space before her folded.
Not tore. Not cracked.
Folded like reality itself had decided to bend.
A circular opening bloomed in the air, woven from pale silver light and soft echoes of song. It pulsed gently, responding to her breath, to her heartbeat. The sound that came from it was familiar almost like her own voice layered upon itself.
Elaria took a step back.
"A… portal?" she whispered.
The mark flared brighter.
"You are called," a voice said not loud, not commanding, but inevitable.
Her knees weakened. "Called where?"
The portal shimmered in answer. Beyond it, she could see nothing clearly only light, motion, and the faint sense of something vast and waiting.
She swallowed hard. "If this is another trick… I..."
The mark pulsed once, firmly.
Elaria closed her eyes.
Then she stepped forward.
The moment she crossed the threshold, the world dissolved. There was no falling, no pain only a rush of warmth and sound, like a thousand voices humming in harmony.
And then
She was standing on stone.
The Kingdom of Aurelion revealed itself in silence and splendor.
Towering spires of pale crystal and ancient stone rose into the sky, catching the light in colors that shifted like breathing things. Bridges arched gracefully over open air, not supported by anything Elaria could see. Water flowed upward in thin streams, defying gravity, feeding floating gardens suspended like emerald islands.
Her breath caught.
"It's… beautiful," she whispered.
She wasn't alone.
All around her, portals were opening.
One after another.
Dozens.
More.
A boy stumbled out of a portal made of rippling blue light, clutching his head.
"Did the ground just move?" he muttered.
A girl appeared through a gate of swirling sand and amber glow, her clothes fluttering as if she had stepped out of a desert wind. She fell to her knees, eyes wide.
"This isn't… this isn't my village."
Another portal cracked open like glass over water, and a tall young man stepped through, firelight licking harmlessly around his shoulders before fading into embers. He laughed breathlessly.
"So it's real," he said. "They weren't lying."
Elaria turned slowly, heart pounding, watching candidate after candidate arrive.
Some screamed.
Some cried.
Some stood perfectly still, eyes sharp with calculation.
Each portal was different.
One glowed green, tangled with vines and blooming flowers.
Another shimmered like moonlight on ice.
One arrived with the sound of rushing waves, leaving puddles on the stone floor.
"This is madness," a girl near Elaria whispered, clutching her sleeve. "Who brought us here?"
Elaria shook her head slowly. "I don't know… but I think we were all called."
Above them, the air shifted again.
A final series of portals opened larger, more controlled. From them emerged figures in long, structured robes, their presence immediately commanding silence.
One stepped forward, voice carrying effortlessly across the gathering crowd.
"Welcome, chosen candidates."
The murmuring erupted instantly.
"Chosen?"
"For what?"
"Who are you?"
The speaker raised a hand. The sound died.
"You stand in the Kingdom of Aurelion," he continued calmly. "A realm unseen, unreachable, and unclaimed by any ordinary means. You are here because the kingdom itself recognized something within you."
Another voice rang out from the crowd. "Does that mean all of us are rulers?"
A pause.
Then a measured reply:
"No."
A ripple of tension spread.
"You are candidates," the figure said. "Many have been called. Few will remain."
Elaria felt her stomach twist.
She looked around again at the sheer number of people, all marked, all powerful in ways they were only beginning to understand.
So many, she thought.
I'm not special because I'm alone. I'm special because I'm part of this.
Her mark warmed gently, as if agreeing.
Another candidate laughed nervously. "So what now? Do we fight? Compete?"
The robed figure's gaze swept over them.
"You will be tested," he said. "Your strength. Your will. Your loyalty. Your restraint."
Elaria hugged herself slightly.
This is just the beginning, she realized.
High above, unseen by most, the Veiled Choir watched from shadowed balconies. Among them, one figure lingered longer on the girl whose portal had sung.
"A voice-born mark," the figure murmured. "Interesting."
Below, the Kingdom of Aurelion stood awake once more alive with magic, tension, and the arrival of destinies that would soon collide.
And Elaria, standing among strangers and rivals, lifted her gaze to the towering spires and whispered, almost to herself:
"So this is where fate brought me."
---
The murmurs among the candidates had not fully settled when a deep, resonant sound echoed through the vast courtyard how and ancient, like a bell struck beneath the earth itself.
The stone beneath their feet trembled softly.
Silence followed.
From the highest balcony overlooking the gathering, figures emerged one by one. They did not rush. They did not announce themselves. Their presence alone bent the air, commanding attention without effort.
At the center stood Lord Malrec Veythorn, tall and severe, clad in dark ceremonial robes threaded with faint silver runes. His gaze swept across the assembled candidates not with warmth, but with calculation.
Flanking him were the Sentinels of Aurelion, armored in pale steel that reflected light like moonwater. Behind them, half-hidden in shadow, stood the Veiled Choir, their masks smooth and expressionless, their silence unsettling.
Last came the Oracle of the Living Realm, leaning lightly on a crystal staff that pulsed faintly with living magic.
Elaria's breath caught.
So these are the ones who rule the unseen, she thought.
Lord Malrec stepped forward. His voice carried effortlessly, filling the vast space without strain.
"Chosen candidates," he began, "you have crossed no road, followed no map, and broken no gate. You stand here because the Kingdom of Aurelion itself has summoned you."
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
"You were not selected by lineage, wealth, or favor," Malrec continued. "You were chosen because something within you answered the call when the kingdom weakened."
A boy near Elaria raised his voice nervously. "What do you mean weakened?"
The Oracle stepped forward this time, her voice softer but no less commanding.
"Our ruler has fallen," she said. "And with no crown to anchor it, Aurelion bleeds power into the world. Creatures grow restless. Ancient protections falter. Enemies watch and wait."
Fear passed through the gathering like a cold wind.
Elaria felt her mark warm faintly, as if responding to the truth in the Oracle's words.
Lord Malrec lifted his hand again. "You are not here to be comforted. You are here to be tested."
A sharp intake of breath echoed somewhere behind Elaria.
"You stand among many," he said. "Some of you will fail quickly. Some will endure longer. A very few may stand before the throne."
A girl shouted, voice trembling, "And the rest of us?"
Malrec's eyes did not soften.
"The rest will be dismissed alive, but forever marked by the knowledge that you were found wanting."
The words sank deep.
Elaria's fingers curled at her side.
So this is the truth, she thought. Not salvation. Not escape. A trial.
The Oracle raised her staff. Symbols ignited in the air above the courtyard, spinning slowly like constellations.
"These are the laws of the Trials," she declared.
The symbols rearranged themselves, each glowing brighter as she spoke.
"First: no candidate may deliberately take the life of another. The kingdom does not crown butchers."
A sigh of relief passed through some. Others frowned.
"Second: betrayal of sworn alliances is permitted but never without consequence. The kingdom remembers intent."
That stirred unease.
"Third: refusal to act when called to trial is counted as failure."
Elaria swallowed.
"Fourth," the Oracle continued, her gaze sharp, "your gifts may guide you, but they will not save you from arrogance. Power without restraint is grounds for elimination."
Whispers spread rapidly now.
"And lastly," Lord Malrec said, his voice cutting cleanly through the noise, "no candidate may leave the kingdom once the Trials begin unless dismissed by us… or destroyed by their own choices."
The courtyard fell into stunned silence.
Elaria felt it then the weight of it all pressing against her chest. She looked around again at the many faces: frightened, ambitious, defiant, hopeful.
So many of us, she thought. And only one throne.
The Oracle lowered her staff. "You will be given time to rest. To observe. To learn restraint."
Lord Malrec's gaze lingered briefly over the crowd.
"The first Trial will begin soon."
With that, the figures turned away. The Sentinels moved first, guiding the candidates toward separate paths branching from the courtyard.
The moment the tension loosened, voices erupted.
"Did you hear that?"
"No leaving?"
"Trials? What kind of trials?"
Elaria remained where she was for a moment longer, heart pounding, eyes lifted to the towering structures of the kingdom.
Mother, she thought suddenly. If you can see this… what would you tell me?
Her mark pulsed once soft, steady.
"I'll survive," she whispered to herself. "I have to."
Back in the Village
Night had fallen heavy and uneasy over the village.
Lady Virelle paced the floor of the tavern, her steps sharp, her fingers clenched tightly at her sides. The dishes Elaria had once washed lay untouched. The room felt wrong too quiet.
"She cannot have vanished," Virelle snapped. "Girls do not simply disappear."
Lyssara stood near the doorway, arms wrapped around herself. Her confidence from earlier days had cracked, fear leaking through.
"The forest swallowed her," she said softly. "I told you not to push her so far."
Virelle spun on her. "Do not blame me. That girl has always been strange. Singing to herself, staring into nothing."
"Strange or not," Lyssara shot back, "Elder Corvain will return. And if she isn't found..."
She stopped.
The silence finished the sentence.
Virelle's jaw tightened. "We will find her," she said, though her voice lacked certainty. "She cannot be far."
Lyssara's eyes flicked toward the dark window. "What if she doesn't want to be found?"
That thought struck harder than either of them expected.
Outside, the wind stirred restlessly through the trees carrying echoes of a world far beyond their reach, a kingdom hidden from maps and memory, where Elaria now stood among destiny and danger.
And in the quiet village that had never understood her, two women waited fear growing with every passing hour unaware that the girl they sought had crossed a threshold from which she could never return unchanged.