Mathew POV
As they rode deeper into the forest, the early light of dawn filtered through the trees, casting long shadows along the path. Mathew couldn't hold his silence any longer.
"Father, why do you want us to ride through the forest at this hour?" he asked, steadying the reins in his hands as his horse moved forward with calm determination. Around them, the forest buzzed softly with the sound of crickets and sound of the forest.
Elijah, riding just ahead of him, didn't turn around right away. "Your coronation is only a few days away," he finally said. "Before you become King, there's something I must show you—something passed down to us by your great-grandfather."
Mathew inhaled deeply, his breath catching slightly in his chest.
He hadn't forgotten about the coronation. At only twenty years old, he was to be crowned King and take over leadership of the village. He had prepared his whole life for it… but this ride, this moment, felt like something entirely different.
Turning to his father, he asked, "What did Great-Grandfather pass down?"
A smile touched Elijah's lips. His blue eyes softened, the fine lines at the corners deepening with age and wisdom. "It's the power of a rare flower that grows only here, in the heart of Vila Forest," he said. "Thanks to it, our line of kings has been gifted with extraordinary abilities—healing, strength, and more."
Mathew's eyes widened in astonishment. The pieces were falling into place. All his life, he had wondered how his father could heal wounds with a touch or calm wild animals with a single glance.
"Is that how you control the animals? And how you heal the sick?" Mathew asked, his voice quiet with awe.
Elijah nodded.
They rode in silence for a while longer, the forest growing darker and denser around them. Finally, Elijah pulled his horse to a stop in front of an old stone grave half-covered in moss and vines.
"We're here," he said, dismounting with practiced ease.
Mathew brought his horse to a stop beside his father's and slid off the saddle. As his feet touched the earth, he was met with the cold presence of the ancient grave in front of them—weathered gray stone with no name he could read.
"What is this place?" he asked, his voice low.
Elijah looked ahead, his face serious now. "You'll see," he said, and began walking toward the entrance of the hidden cave behind the grave.
Mathew hesitated only a moment, then followed his father into the shadows, unaware that the truth inside would change not only his reign—but his very soul.
He followed his father into the cave, the cold air slicing through his navy-blue coat like icy fingers. As they stepped deeper into the darkness, Mathew noticed his father pull a torch from the wall and light it. He must have been here many times before—he moved with certainty, knowing the way.
"Follow me," Elijah instructed, holding the lit torch high to guide them.
Mathew took a deep breath and obeyed, keeping one hand steady on the hilt of his sword strapped to his waist. The cave was pitch-black and frigid, the torch's flame casting flickering shadows along the damp stone walls. He could hear the echo of their footsteps and the occasional drip of water as they made their way deeper underground.
Then, they entered a large, hidden chamber.
Mathew's eyes widened at the breathtaking sight before him. A meadow of glowing white tulips stretched across the cavern floor, their soft light illuminating the room like starlight fallen to the earth. In the distance, a waterfall flowed gently between moss-covered rocks, its sound soothing and rhythmic.
His father extinguished the torch, but the tulips' glow was enough to light the entire space.
"Father… this place is incredible," Mathew whispered, awestruck. Lush green grass covered the ground, softer and more vibrant than any he had seen before. The tulips—thousands of them—shimmered like moonlight.
"This is where your great-grandfather received his power, many years ago," Elijah said, his voice reverent.
Mathew turned to him, astonished. "But how?" he asked.
Elijah smiled faintly and stepped forward, walking carefully between the glowing flowers. Mathew followed, breathing in the sweet scent that filled the air. The freshness of the cave was unlike anything outside—crisp, clean, otherworldly.
"A long time ago," Elijah began, stopping in the center of the field, "your great-grandfather made a deal. He had a beautiful sister, Victoria. One day, one of the Vila Fairies saw her and desired her as a bride, to continue their royal bloodline. In exchange for her, the King of the Cloud Fairies gave our family these enchanted flowers."
Mathew's brow furrowed. "Wait… I thought you told me there were no fairies left. That they died out long ago?"
Elijah knelt down and gently plucked one of the tulips from the earth, cradling its glowing bloom in his hand. "Since the day Victoria went with them, no one has seen a single fairy. They vanished from this forest. But their magic—this gift—remains."
Mathew stared at the flower, trying to make sense of it all. "But who said we're allowed to use their power?"
His father looked up, eyes glinting in the soft glow. "The deal was sealed. His sister for the flowers, for the strength of our kings. But only those of royal blood can wield it. No one else."
Elijah stood and slowly began peeling the petals from the tulip, each one still glowing faintly in the palm of his hand. He extended his hand toward Mathew.
"Take this," he said calmly. "Eat it."
Mathew blinked in confusion, hesitating. "I should… eat it?"
His father nodded, his expression serious. "The power lies in the petals. Only a true heir—only royalty—can survive it. And only then will you understand the responsibility that comes with it."
He hesitated at first, unsure whether to eat the petals. Slowly, he picked one up and placed it in his mouth to taste it. To his surprise, it tasted like honey. His eyes widened as the petal melted on his tongue and he swallowed it.
"It kind of tastes sweet," he said in surprise, looking at his father.
Elijah smiled warmly. Mathew, encouraged by the sweetness, took the rest of the petals and placed them into his mouth. They tasted like dessert—light, floral, and sugary. As he chewed and swallowed them, a sudden warmth spread through his body, rushing from his chest to the tips of his fingers.
He looked down at his hands in astonishment. His skin was glowing with a soft, golden light. Around him, the tulips glowed even brighter, bathing the entire cavern in blinding brilliance. It was like the very air shimmered with magic.
Mathew didn't know what was happening, but whatever it was—it was changing him. He felt stronger. Sharper. Different.
He turned toward his father, who wore a proud, satisfied smile.
"How are you feeling?" Elijah asked.
Mathew looked back at his hands. The glow had faded now, his skin returning to normal. "I… I don't know," he replied honestly, lifting his gaze. "Different."
Elijah nodded and reached down to his belt. He pulled out a pocket knife and held it in front of him.
"Let's test that theory," he said calmly.
Without hesitation, he turned the blade and made a shallow cut across the palm of his own hand.
"Father, what are you doing?" Mathew asked, alarmed.
Elijah looked up and extended his bleeding hand. "If the power worked, then you should be able to heal this. Healing is one of the gifts."
Mathew swallowed hard and nodded. He stepped forward, his heart racing. He had seen his father heal others before—sick villagers, wounded animals—but he had never imagined doing it himself.
His hand trembled slightly as he reached out and placed it over the bleeding cut.
"Remember, you have to focus," Elijah said gently. "That's how it works."
Mathew nodded, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. He tried to clear his mind, to block out everything but the wound beneath his hand.
And then, suddenly, a vision appeared.
A woman.
She had hazel-green eyes, golden-brown hair that curled softly around her face, full lips, and freckles scattered over her small, delicate nose.
Mathew's eyes snapped open. He hadn't felt anything, but the image of the woman was clear, as if she had stepped straight out of a dream.
"Did it work?" he asked quickly, unsure.
Elijah pulled his hand back, and both of them stared in disbelief. The wound was gone—no scar, no blood. It had healed completely.
Mathew could not believe his own eyes, his just healed his father. A smile appear on his lips as he looked surprised at his father " that is freaking incredible " he say to his father. He could not wait to test what he could do more with this power.
Everest POV
The sound of a woman screaming echoed through the air.
Willow sprinted ahead toward the source, her wings slicing through the wind. But Everest slowed. A terrible feeling gripped his chest. He could smell the magic—and evil in the air . Someone was here other than a fairy someone evil.
As they reached the clearing, Everest's eyes landed on Flora—the pixie fairy—lying on the ground, injured. Her arms were bruised and bleeding, and beside her knelt Kalian, the Keeper Fairy entrusted with safeguarding Queen Evelyn's magic.
And just as Everest had feared—Brielle was there With her companion Rage and Vale the fox.
Vale, the fox-woman with blood dripping from her mouth, and the wicked brute, Rage. They worked for Lord Lorcand the most wicked and twisted man in the forrest.
Everest's blood boiled.
He reached behind his back and drew his sword, readying himself for battle.
Willow had already dropped to her knees beside Flora. "Flora! Are you okay?" she cried, panic in her voice.
Everest's eyes locked on the enemy trio. Their wicked smiles crawled across their faces like shadows creeping in daylight. When he saw the blood on Vale's lips, fury surged through him.
She had done this. She had hurt Flora.
"What did you do?" Willow's voice rang out, furious, echoing through the trees as she stood protectively beside Flora, fists clenched.
Brielle laughed. The sound was venom.
"Aww, Willow," she mocked. "Don't look so heartbroken. Our Lord Lorcand send us to picked him something up."
Willow's wings spread wide, sharp as blades, her cheeks flushed with rage. But Everest stepped up beside her, raising his sword, the metal glinting in the light.
"You have no interest in here so leave " Everest said firmly. " leave now you have done enough damage "
Rage, the dark-haired monster of a man, stepped forward. His hair hung in greasy strands over sickly pale skin, and his lips were blackened like ash. A crow perched on his shoulder, feathers ragged and eyes empty. He was known of collection souls for the Lord Lorcand.
"We have orders " he sneered. "Your Queen is growing weak….. And you know it that her time to be Queen is over….. We only want what should be ours. And that is the next Heir in the line of your fairies"
"I am not for sale ….Over my dead body you would never have me !" Willow snapped. "So you could tell your Lord He can Go to hell if I care !"
Everest could feel the fury coursing through his veins, making them burn beneath his skin. The tension in the air crackled like lightning.
And then, without warning, Brielle vanished and reappeared—right in front of them.
She lunged for Willow, her claws aimed for the fairy's golden-brown hair.
But Everest moved faster.
His blade cut clean across Brielle's upper arm, and the witch shrieked in pain. In the same breath, Everest shoved Willow behind him, breaking her free of Brielle's grip.
"You will not have her!" he growled, standing firm, sword raised, shielding Willow with his body.
Brielle clutched her wounded arm, but her lips curled into a sick smile. "Oh, I will," she hissed. "This is not over."
And before Everest could strike again, the witch and her two foul companions vanished—dissolving into mist, swallowed by the wind.
Willow POV
She had never seen Everest so angry—so fiercely protective—as he had been just moments ago. It made her heart skip a beat. Her cheeks still burned, not from the rage she had felt earlier, but from something else now. Something warm.
Once the witch and her dark companions had vanished, Willow turned to Kalian and Flora.
"Take her to King Clyde," she commanded Kalian. "He can heal her. We'll be right behind you."
Kalian nodded silently, absorbing the urgency in her voice. He gently helped Flora to her feet, then lifted her into his arms and took off into the sky, wings slicing upward toward the kingdom.
When they were gone, Willow turned—and met Everest 's gaze.
His deep blue eyes were locked onto hers, intense and unwavering. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice low, thick with concern.
She licked her lips, then gave a small nod. "Thank you," she whispered. "If it hadn't been for you, I don't know if we would be strong enough to have defeat them"
Her voice trailed off as he stepped closer, their eyes still fixed on each other. The distance between them disappeared.
"I would never let anyone hurt you, Willow," Everest said.
Her breath caught. There was no hesitation in his voice, no doubt in his stance. He meant it. With Elves, there were no lies—only truth. She had always known that about him.
"Thank you," she said again, this time with more strength. "For saving me. For saving her."
Everest sheathed his swords, his shoulders still tense. "Will you be alright?"
She nodded—but hesitated. Her thoughts clouded over.
"I'm worried about my mother," Willow admitted, voice trembling as she looked up at him. "What if… what if Brielle was telling the truth? What if she really is growing weak? And why do they Lord was after me …I "
She couldn't finish the sentence. Her throat tightened, and tears welled in her eyes. A quiet ache stirred deep in her chest, threatening to break her apart.
But Everest stepped in—calm, steady, strong.
His hands came to rest on her shoulders, grounding her. "Willow," he said gently, "your mother is stronger than Brielle could ever understand. You know what witches are like—they twist the truth. Not everything they say is real."
Tears slid silently down her cheeks. Everest lifted one hand and gently wiped them away with the back of his fingers.
"Don't cry," he said softly. "I won't let anything happen to you—or to your mother."
His words wrapped around her like a vow, something solid she could hold onto.
She bit her lower lip, overwhelmed.
Then, without another word, he pulled her into him, wrapping his strong arms around her. Her body sank into his—strong, steady, a warrior's body that held her firmly, keeping her from falling apart. It was exactly what she needed: this embrace, this safety. Everest was her rock, and even if he asked her many times to marry him, couldn't she answer him yet? She was to much worried about her mother and her kingdom. She did love Everest, but just did not tell him yet about how she really felt about him. She was scared and lost, and even if her was here with her only as her friend, would she take this? Their friendship means everything to her.
Willow closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, trying to calm her racing thoughts, to shut out the chaos of everything that had just happened.
As she breathed him in, his scent filled her senses—wood smoke, cinnamon, and worn leather. It was grounding. Soothing. A scent she knew she would never forget.
After a while, she felt him gently loosen his hold, though part of her didn't want him to. She opened her eyes to see the sunlight slipping toward the edge of the earth. Dusk was coming fast.
"You should get back before it gets dark," Everest said, his voice low as he looked down at her.
She nodded slowly, taking his words in. "You too," she replied. She knew Everest didn't live nearby—his home was further downstream, deep in the forest, where the Elven Kingdom stood under his father's rule.
"Then I'll see you tomorrow," Everest said, finally letting her go.
The warmth where his arms had held her vanished too quickly, and a quiet chill settled in her chest. She almost wished he had held on a little longer.
"See you tomorrow," Willow whispered, stepping back. Their eyes met one last time—his piercing blue gaze lingering on hers—and then, with a sweep of her wings, she rose into the air and began flying back toward the castle.
Within minutes, she reached the castle. Her feet touched the cold, gray stone as she landed, wings folding behind her. The weight of everything that had happened pressed heavily on her chest. Without hesitation, she hurried toward the living quarters.
She could already hear voices—her mother's soft, tired tone and her Uncle Clyde's deeper, more urgent one—coming from the sitting room. But just as her hand reached for the doorknob, she froze.
"You need to talk to Willow," Clyde said firmly. "This can't continue, Evelyn . You're already too weak. You can't even heal anymore—your powers are slipping away. You should tell her truth about what lay in her if you keep this secrete it would only be worst when she found out from someone else"
Willow's breath caught in her throat. Her fingers fell from the doorknob as her mother's voice answered, weary and quiet.
"I can't tell Willow the truth she is not ready yet, Clyde. It would tear her apart. She already lost her father so young. If she found out it would break her and who know it would trigger that one thing what we tried not to happen to her"
Tears welled up in Willow's eyes, stinging hot. Brielle had been telling the truth. Her mother was dying. But what are they keeping from her? What could be so big secrete.
She clamped a hand over her mouth to keep any sound from escaping as her tears slipped silently down her cheeks.
"Then at least talk to her," Clyde insisted. "Have her marry Everest or someone powerful …while you're still alive. She needs to inherit your powers before it's too late. If you don't pass them on, the line of the Vile Faeries will die out with you."
Willow's heart cracked at his words. It was true—she was the last heir. If she didn't accept her royal inheritance, their kind would vanish from the world. That is why Everest was proposing to her the other day. But she could not give him a right away answer. She was to scared and felt as if she said yes, what would happen to her mother.
"I know you don't want to force her, Evelyn," Clyde said gently. "But you need to decide. Time is no longer on your side. And it is only time when Lord Lorcand Would be back soon again and he won't stop this time to take what is his.
Willow stepped back, trembling, her hand falling from her mouth. She was shocked and overwhelmed, and her sobs wanted to escape her body. How could this be true? Why did her mother keep this from her? And what does Lord Lorcand want with her? Was it because she was the last Heir of the Vila Fairies? The last of her species.
But now she understood. Her mother was dying. The Vila legacy was slipping through her fingers. And she couldn't allow that. She could not let that wicked man who took her father from her have his way, and she wouldn't allow it. She would do what is best for her people. Save her kingdom and let her heritage not die out.
Wiping her tears away, she shook her head, whispering to herself, "No... I won't let it end like this."
She didn't feel ready for marriage, but she knew what she had to do. She would marry Everest —not just for herself, but to save her mother, to carry the power of the Vila forward, to protect their people from vanishing into myth. It wouldn't be so hard because she did love Everest, and it wasn't like she was marrying a stranger. They grew up together and knew each other from inside and out and have been each other's life a long time.
Without thinking twice, she turned and ran. If she moved quickly, she could still catch him before he disappeared into the woods. She had to say yes.
She would marry Everest.