Part - 1
"Hey! Prince Veylen, stop running! You'll fall!" called Uncle Meron, the shopkeeper, as Veylen darted past his stall.
The boy skidded to a halt, turning with a breathless grin. "I'll be alright! Ser Aurelius trains me now,
I can handle a little tumble."
The old man chuckled, shaking his head. "Training or not, you're still skin and bones like the rest of us." He held out a warm meat pie wrapped in cloth. "Take this. For when you wear yourself out."
Veylen accepted it gratefully before weaving deeper into the marketplace. Vendors called out to him, offering fruits, sweet buns, little trinkets children trailed behind like ducklings, laughing as he playfully dodged them.
"Stop, everyone, I can't carry all this!" he protested, arms overflowing.
Aunt Lira, the baker, gently took some of the gifts from him. "Leave them here, dear. You can collect them on your way back."
"Thank you!" He flashed her a smile before leaping onto a nearby stall, then onto the low rooftops.
The tiles were cool beneath his feet as he sprinted across them, the city of Astelvyr stretching beneath him its spires and streets bathed in eternal twilight.
Breathless, he finally slowed. Where should I go? There were no lessons today, no duties. Then he remembered his grandfather's offhand mention of an abandoned garden at the city's edge.
"Perfect place for a nap," he muttered.
The garden's entrance was a rusted gate swallowed by vines. He climbed over, brushing aside thick creepers, and landed softly on the other side.
What lay before him was both eerie and beautiful.
A forgotten world. Ancient trees twisted skyward, their branches skeletal. No flowers bloomed; no birds sang. Vines choked the stone paths, and the air smelled of damp earth and old memories. At the center stood a pale bench, dusted with fallen leaves.
Veylen sat, brushing off the seat before lying down. The stone was cool against his back. "Strange… but peaceful," he murmured, closing his eyes.
Sleep took him quickly.
But, A voice stirred him awake.
"Hey… can you hear me?"
Veylen bolted upright, heart pounding. "Who's there?"
The voice was soft, curious. "Come forward."
He stood, scanning the garden. Nothing moved. "Where are you?"
"Here," it whispered. "By the fountain."
Despite his better judgment, curiosity led him deeper into the garden. The vines seemed to shift slightly, parting as he walked. The voice guided him gently, almost playfully. Ahead, half-buried in foliage, stood a broken fountain, its basin filled with still water.
And beside it, her.
A girl, luminous and translucent, her bare feet hovering just above the ground. A soft glow though there was no sun seemed to catch in her brown hair, and her green eyes glowed like emeralds.
"You're a spirit," Veylen breathed.
She smiled. "A nymph."
"A real nymph?" He stepped closer, fascinated. "But they're just stories."
"Are they?" She tilted her head. "Then what am I?"
He had no answer.
"I'm Elarin," she said.
Veylen frowned. "And you live here?"
"I was born here," she said, looking around. "Before this place was ever a garden. Would you like to see how it used to be?"
"Yes," he said without hesitation.
She raised her hands, and the air shimmered. Vines unfurled. Flowers burst from the earth in radiant blues and golds. The dead trees sprouted leaves, their branches heavy with blossoms that hadn't bloomed in centuries. The air hummed with warmth, with life.
Veylen stepped back, mouth agape. "This is... magic, right? Real magic?"
She laughed. "Older than that. The earth doesn't forget. It only sleeps."
He looked at her with new wonder. "I've only seen healing spells. And fire, once. But this... this is really amazing."
She twirled, the petals rising around her like dancers. "Do you like it?"
"I love it." he replied.
He reached out, half-expecting his hand to pass through hers but her fingers were solid, cool as morning dew. "You're real."
She laughed, the sound like wind through leaves. "As real as you are, little prince."
They sat by the fountain, and she told him stories of trees that whispered, of rivers that sang, of a time when spirits walked freely among mortals.
"Why show me this?" he asked.
Her smile dimmed. "Because you saw me. Most don't."
He hesitated. "Will you disappear if I leave?"
"Perhaps." Her voice was fading, the garden's magic already thinning. "But if you remember this place… I'll be here."
Veylen stood reluctantly. "I'll come back."
Elarin's form shimmered like mist. "I'll be waiting."
As he climbed back over the gate, he glanced once more at the garden. The flowers had vanished, the trees stood barren again—but for a moment, he thought he saw her, waving from the shadows.
Something inside him shifted.
The garden was no longer just ruins.
It was a secret.
And it was his.
Part - 2
Veylen returned to the castle in high spirits, his mind still alight with the garden's magic. Later, he found himself seated across from Halric, at supper.
"Grandpa," Veylen ventured, "do you know about the old garden near the east wall?"
Halric still. "That ruin? It was sealed off before you were born."
Veylen shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "I climbed in. Met a girl there just someone who likes quiet places, I think."
Halric's gaze sharpened. "A girl?"
"Yeah. We talked."
The Councellor exhaled through his nose, resuming his dinner "Good to see you making friends outside court. But be careful. That part of the city's abandoned, Don't hurt yourself there."
Veylen nodded, though his thoughts were already drifting back to Elarin's laughter, the way the garden had breathed under her touch.
He went there again. Sometimes they spoke of stars; other times, of creatures she claimed lived beyond the city walls beasts with voices like wind chimes, rivers that sang in harmonies no mortal throat could replicate. With each visit, the world outside Astelvyr grew more vivid in his mind, more possible.
Then, one time, Elarin turned to him, her luminous eyes solemn.
"Would you like to meet my true self?"
Veylen's breath caught. "You mean you're not really here?"
She gestured to her translucent form. "This is just a reflection. My body lies beyond the forest."
"Outside the city?" The words tasted forbidden.
She nodded. "There are wonders there you've never imagined. Lakes that glow like fallen stars.
Trees that bear fruit which hums when plucked. Ruins where time itself hesitates to pass." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Don't you want to see?"
He did. Desperately.
Later, he waited until Halric finished his dinner before asking, "What's really out there? Beyond the walls?"
Halric's frown deepened. "Why ask now?"
Veylen traced the grain of the wooden table. "We never leave. Doesn't that seem strange?"
Halric leaned back, arms crossed. "Beyond the walls lies the Wilderwood. Scouts have mapped its edges, but no one ventures deep. Lord Nirash's protects us here but out there?" He shook his head.
"The forest is older than kings. Older than gods, some say."
Veylen lay awake for what felt like ages, the ceiling of his chamber a canvas for his racing thoughts. By the time the faintest shift in the twilight's hue crept through his window, his decision was made.
He dressed quickly, fastened his cloak, and slipped into the hall.
The guards at the gate were asleep.
Strange, he thought. They never slept on duty.
A beat of hesitation then a grin. Luck is with me.
He slipped past them, into the deeper gloom beyond the walls.
Ancient trees loomed, their bark black as charcoal. Roots twisted like skeletal fingers underfoot. The air hung heavy, thick with the scent of damp earth and something older something that prickled the back of his neck.
He followed Elarin's directions: a path marked by gnarled branches, by stones veined with luminescent moss. Hours blurred into a haze of exhaustion. His water flask ran dry; his legs burned.
Just as the shadows grew thicker, the forest parted.
Before him lay ruins.
Pillars, half-swallowed by ivy, jutted from the earth like broken teeth. Statues, their features worn smooth by time, stared blindly from alcoves of thorn and vine. A mosaic, shattered yet still glinting with flecks of gold, paved the ground beneath his boots.
Veylen stepped forward, pulse roaring in his ears.
This was the place.
Elarin's voice echoed in his memory, soft as a sigh:
"Follow the path... and I will be waiting."
And so he did.
Part - 3
Veylen stood before the gathered council, his cloak still streaked with mud from the Wilderwood.
The firelight carved shadows beneath his eyes as he spoke, his voice quiet but clear.
"...And that's all I remember."
He swallowed, fingers tightening around the edge of his tunic. "After that nothing. When I woke, I was in the forest, high in the branches of a tree. I was so hungry I caught a rabbit. But then I realized..." His voice faltered. "I didn't know how long I'd been gone."
A pause. The weight of his next words pressed the air from his lungs.
"I'm sorry, Grandpa Halric."
Halric had listened without interruption, his expression unreadable. Now, he leaned forward in his chair, the firelight glinting off the silver in his beard. His voice was calm, but iron lay beneath it.
"Go to your chamber and complete your punishment."
A nod to the guards. They stepped forward, and guided Veylen from the chamber. The doors shut behind them with a hollow thud.
Silence.
Aurelius sank into his seat with a slow exhale, the leather of his vambraces creaking. The High Priestess was the first to speak.
"She made the entire garden bloom."
Halric responded without hesitation. "Yes. Definitely illusion magic. And to cover the whole garden at that... not a simple one."
End of Chapter.