Aethercastle — Arian Core
Orion sat beneath the pavilion, slumped in a chair, one hand tangled in his hair as he let out a heavy sigh.
"I can't leave Aethercastle with the coronation so close… and I can't tell anyone what Iris told me either," he muttered. "And yet there's no way to know whether my name alone is enough to keep those people from causing more harm…"
His fingers tightened against his scalp.
"Ugh… what a nightmare."
Across the courtyard, two maids leaned against the marble railing, sneaking glances at him between bits of gossip. One had rust-colored hair—Glora—while the other, Rene, was bald, with warm brown eyes and smooth, sun-touched skin.
"I told you he'd be here today," Rene whispered with a grin. "Now we're even for that gossip you told me. Go—this is your chance."
"What? Why all of a sudden?" Glora gasped, stepping back.
"All of a sudden?" Rene snorted. "You were kicking your feet and mumbling his name last night. Go talk to him before the coronation. Once he's crowned, he'll be surrounded by knights all the time. Chances like this will be rarer than blue unicorns."
Glora frowned. "Ugh… fine. I'll go. But don't laugh at me if—"
"No one's going to laugh. Now go."
Rene gave her another push.
"Ah!" Glora yelped, then pouted before reluctantly walking toward the pavilion.
Orion took a slow breath, staring up at the pavilion roof.
"I should've asked Iris for more details… but there's no use dwelling on it now."
He looks so deep in thought… I shouldn't disturb him, Glora thought, hesitating and glancing back at Rene.
Rene shot her a sharp glare.
Looks like I don't have a choice…
Glora approached and bowed. "Y-Your Highness… um… could I have a moment of your time?"
Orion lifted his head and met her gaze.
"Hmm? Sure. I could use a break from my thoughts. What is it?"
He sat up, sunlight catching in his silver hair and soft blue eyes.
Glora straightened, her cheeks warming.
"My name is Glora and… I… I wanted to tell you something I've been keeping to myself…"
Okay, Glora. Just say it. Even if he doesn't feel the same, at least you won't keep wondering forever.
"Yes?" Orion smiled, the tension in his face easing.
Her heart began to pound.
No—don't think. If you think, you won't say it at all.
She opened her mouth—
Nothing came out.
"Is something wrong?" Orion asked, tilting his head.
Glora froze. Her mind went completely blank. Suddenly she spun around, ran back to Rene, snatched a sheet of paper and a quill from her bag, then rushed back to the pavilion.
Orion couldn't help but smile at her frantic, almost childlike movements.
She scribbled quickly and held the paper out to him with a trembling hand.
Orion read it—and warmth spread through his chest.
I like you.
He looked up with a bright smile.
Glora stood there, hiding her ink-stained fingers behind her back, her face flushed and scrunched in embarrassment as she waited for his response.
Orion looked down at the paper once more before folding it carefully.
"Glora… thank you," he said. His voice was gentle, but steadier now. "That took a lot of courage."
She shifted her weight, staring at the ground. Her lips parted as if she wanted to speak, but nothing came out. All she managed was a small, stiff nod.
"It… means more to me than you think," Orion continued. "Especially right now."
He hesitated, choosing his words.
"But I'm not in a place where I can give someone the kind of answer they deserve."
Glora's fingers curled into the fabric of her apron. She swallowed, trying again to speak. A faint sound escaped her throat, then stopped. Her eyes shimmered with frustration.
Orion noticed.
"I don't want you to think this was foolish," he said quietly. "Or that I'm brushing it aside. I'm not."
He held up the folded paper.
"I'm keeping this."
That made her look up, startled.
"You were honest with me," he said. "And that matters."
Glora gave a shaky breath and nodded again, biting her lip.
"I just… wouldn't be fair to you," Orion added. "Not right now. If I let myself lean on something this kind just to feel wanted, it would only hurt you in the end."
Her eyes widened slightly, then softened. She managed a tiny, crooked smile, even though it trembled.
"I'm… glad you told me," He finished.
Glora pressed a hand to her chest, as if holding her feelings in place, and bowed deeply—too deeply, almost—before stepping back.
Orion watched her go, still holding that small folded confession, feeling a warmth, he hadn't expected… and a quiet ache that he knew he couldn't afford to follow.
And as the sun starts to set, the cooling winds drift people to sleep somewhere else.
Sira's Bakery, Main Market — Arian Core
"Huh?"
Adam opened his eyes into an empty void. He was floating, weightless, alone in endless darkness.
"It's so dark… what's going on?" His gaze searched for anything—anything at all—but found only black.
"We meet again, Adam…"
An ethereal voice rose from behind him. He spun around, heart jumping, but there was no one there.
"Did you not recognize my voice?" Rosen giggled softly.
"I did—but I can't see you. That's not fair," Adam pouted, turning in place. "You can't just sneak up on someone like that. Where are you?"
"I'm sorry, Adam, but the space I'm in is fragile. There's only so much I can do to reach Nyxhara." Rosen's voice faded slightly.
"Nyxhara?" Adam frowned. "What's that?"
"It's the name of the world we live in. And I'm afraid we won't be able to speak for long. Sending my voice into your dreams is… delicate."
Adam's brow furrowed. "Are you trapped?"
"No. Not trapped." A weight entered her voice. "But if I leave where I am now, the only thing that will follow me is suffering and ruin."
"So you're not trapped," Adam said quietly. "You just won't come back."
"I suppose I've disappointed my son." Rosen's tone softened. "I know how you feel. You're awkward… speaking to a mother you never knew. The one whose disappearance hurt your sister most—the one who actually raised you."
Adam swallowed.
"I always thought having a mother would be exciting," he murmured. "Boreas talks about Mrs. Greyratt all the time. I imagined dancing, singing, eating her food. And then you just… appeared. In my dreams. And our talks are so short."
"I wish it were that simple," Rosen said. "But I cannot return."
"That's selfish," Adam said, curling inward. "Staying away only makes it worse. You're hurting everyone."
"You mean Sira."
"No. I mean all of us." His voice trembled. "Grandpa and Sis don't say it out loud, but I've heard them. You and Father being gone—it haunts them."
"I can't come back, Adam."
"Then let us come to you."
The darkness behind Adam began to bend, as though the space itself were leaning toward him.
It did not shake.
It did not crack.
Adam felt the weightless air grow heavy against his skin.
It bent—like something vast had exhaled into nothingness.
And then—
Something in that bent darkness opened.
One eye.
No glow. No flash. Just existence.
Slitted and immense, wide as a palace and sharp as judgment. Ancient. Cold. Reptilian. It gazed at Adam like a star that had died but refused to stop burning—like a predator that had watched civilizations rise and rot for its own amusement.
"No."
The eye closed.
The void became still once more.