Ophelia's POV
The morning air was crisp against my skin as I fastened the last strap of my bag. My belongings were few—easily gathered, easily left behind. A mage had little need for sentimental possessions, and yet, as I looked at my neatly packed bundle resting on the bed, I felt an unfamiliar heaviness in my chest.
This wasn't regret.
Nor was it sorrow.
It was something else entirely—something I am going to find out soon.
The walls of the king's estate had become a gilded cage, but now that I was leaving, I realized I had barely seen anything beyond these chambers. I had spent my time within these halls, sharing space with a grieving king, trapped in a fate I never truly chose. And yet…
Before I left, I wanted to see what lay beyond the doors I never opened.
With one last glance at the quiet room, I slipped out.
The hallway stretched before me, lined with intricate paintings and elaborate chandeliers that cast golden light onto the polished floors. The palace was eerily silent, the weight of mourning still lingering in the air. Servants moved with hushed footsteps, speaking only in whispers.
I moved past them, stepping through archways and marble corridors, drinking in the sights I had once ignored. The grandeur of the Eastern Kingdom had never mattered to me before, but now, as I traced my fingers over the cool stone pillars and peered out the enormous windows at the vast gardens below, I wondered how Samuel had once dreamed of leaving all this behind.
I understood now why he wanted to go.
And yet, fate had denied him that freedom.
As I reached the palace gates, the guards gave me no trouble. They merely bowed their heads slightly as I stepped onto the cobblestone path leading into the heart of the kingdom.
The village was already alive with movement. Stalls were set up in the town square, merchants arranging their wares while children dashed between their legs, laughter spilling into the streets. The scent of freshly baked bread mingled with the sharp tang of metal from the blacksmith's forge.
I stopped near a bustling alleyway, observing the people as they moved.
I tried to understand them.
Happiness was foreign to me.
I had seen people cry, scream, beg. But this—this ease, this joy that radiated from them—I could only study it from a distance.
I wonder if at some point of my life, I would break the stereotypes for mages. That at some point in this life, I might actually start to develop feelings.
And as I wander deeper, I could only understand one thing. Perhaps this was the life Samuel had once wished for. A life of simplicity. A life free of crowns and burdens.
I found myself wandering deeper into the marketplace, my gaze flitting from one shop to another, until I stopped before a stall that caught my eye.
A blacksmith's stand.
Displayed on the wooden counter were beautifully crafted sword accessories—engraved hilts, polished scabbards, and chains meant to be fastened onto weapons. My gaze settled on a single golden chain, simple yet elegant, its craftsmanship remarkable.
Samuel would wield his sword every day of his life as king. If I left him with this, he would always have something to remember me by.
It is weird but I do not want him to forget me. I will leave soon and he will have no trace of me nor have some bit of me to cherish.
Soon, he will forget my face. He will forget my voice and the little time we spent together.
But I do not want him to forget my name. I want him to remember that for once in his life, he had me.
He found a mage lost in the forest that he decided to take in. He found a woman who once tried to save his father form dying. He found an elf who had been wanting to find her purpose. He found me… lost in the wanders of what this life could offer. A prince who wanted freedom found a woman who has it.
"I want to buy this," I said, pointing at the chain.
The merchant, a middle-aged man with graying hair, looked up from his work. He barely spared a glance at the item before his eyes flickered downward—toward my hand.
And then, he froze.
His expression shifted from indifference to shock, his gaze locked onto my left hand as though I were holding something impossible.
"You—" He inhaled sharply, blinking as if to make sure he wasn't imagining things. His voice dropped to a near whisper. "You have that ring?"
I frowned slightly. "Yes."
His astonishment did not fade. If anything, it deepened, as if I had just told him the sun had fallen from the sky.
"You—" He laughed, though it was not a sound of amusement. It was a breathless, disbelieving chuckle. "You want to buy a mere chain when you wear the most valuable ring in the entire world?"
I stared at him, confused. "It is just a ring."
The merchant's laughter stopped abruptly. He looked at me as if I had spoken the most blasphemous words imaginable.
"Just a ring?" he echoed, shaking his head. His eyes gleamed with something akin to reverence as he leaned closer. "That is no ordinary ring, girl. Do you even know what it means to wear it?"
I opened my mouth to respond but found no words.
The merchant exhaled sharply. "That ring cannot be bought. Not even with all the gold in this kingdom. It is one of a kind." His voice softened, as if revealing something sacred. "It is given only to those who have proven themselves in war. Only to those who have bled, fought, and survived through battles most men wouldn't dream of facing."
I stilled.
"It is not something gifted on a whim," he continued. "It is something earned. To possess that ring means its bearer fought through trials most would never endure. That whoever gave it to you has spent his entire life winning it."
A slow, suffocating realization settled in my chest.
Samuel had given this to me.
Samuel—who had longed for freedom. Samuel—who had been trained since childhood to wield a blade before he could write his own name. Samuel—who had spent his life as a warrior before he was ever a king.
He had not been born into privilege. He had fought for everything he had.
And then… he had placed the symbol of his victories, of his struggles, onto my hand.
The merchant's expression softened as he took in my silence. "For a man to give away such a thing," he murmured, "means that you are his everything."
I stared at the ring, at the way the light caught its surface.
A gift.
I had thought it was merely that—a simple gift.
But this was more than a mere piece of metal.
This was his entire life. And he had given it to me. Why must he give up this ring over an immortal who failed to her duty? Who only had one purpose–to save, and still miserably failed?
All while he knew that I could not give him my eternity for I will live in it. For I will live my whole life watching everyone pass me by.
So why must a mere mortal like him entrust such a valuable fortune that he had built for himself?
What is wrong with this man for making me feel emotions I am not supposed to be feeling?
Why is a mere mortal changing the balance of the scales of an elf? I do not want this.
I do not want change nor will I ever want one. I am already used to my life and shall never ask for more. But why do I feel greedy and I want to stay? Why do I want to stay beside him and watch him accomplish everything? Why do I feel like I do not want to be alone?