He walked into a random street to hide from his seeker that couldn't be seem with the naked eyes and behold he saw he stumbled across a magnificent view amidst the beautiful city.
The city stretched upward like a dream etched into glass and steel, its skyline awash in the molten glow of sunset. The heavens burned in pinks and violets, and the mirrored towers seized every color, bending them into fractured brilliance—walls of living crystal that pulsed with reflected fire. Each skyscraper was a shard of the future, sharp-edged and luminous, piercing the dusk like blades of light rising from the earth.
Beneath them, the river coiled smooth and dark, its waters dyed with the same painted sky. Blossoms drifted lazily from the trees that lined the banks, their petals soft against the glowing reflections. They mingled with the ripples stirred by sleek, silent boats gliding through the current—slender vessels traced in neon, their surfaces catching the shimmer of both stars above and city lights ahead.
The river ran like a vein of living light through the heart of the city, reflecting the sky above in shades of rose and violet until water and heavens seemed one continuous canvas. Its surface shimmered with fractured images of glass towers—sleek, angular spires that leaned inward like titans admiring their own beauty in the mirror of the current. With every ripple, their reflections twisted, bending into kaleidoscopic illusions of fire and crystal beneath the evening glow.
Cherry blossoms crowned its banks, their branches heavy with petals that fell like whispers onto the water. They floated downstream in soft drifts, colliding gently with the wakes of the boats that glided silently across the surface. The vessels themselves were as futuristic as the city: slender, elegant, fitted with gleaming solar panels that caught the fading light, glowing faintly like celestial creatures migrating under the dusk.
The air above the river was alive with contrasts—cool, fragrant breezes carrying the perfume of blossoms intertwined with the faint hum of unseen technology powering the city. From the edges, gardens overflowed toward the water, greenery stitched with lanterns and subtle lighting that made the banks shimmer as though fireflies had taken permanent residence there.
But it was the colors that transformed the river into something unearthly. The sky, streaked with molten gold and magenta, melted into the glass walls of the skyscrapers, which in turn spilled their neon blush back into the water. The entire scene felt suspended between worlds, a place where nature and futurism did not clash, but conspired together to create something greater—an eternal twilight painted in reflection and bloom.
It was not just a river. It was the city's soul—flowing, luminous, ever in motion, carrying with it both the echoes of the past and the promise of the future, the perfect place for rin to think about his progress, his friends and to reposition himself back at his goal while grabbing the setting sun with his rough hands.
Noticing that the humanoid he had been sensing was watching close by, he walked beside her as if he didn't sense or notice her.
Rin walked into her blind spot and his hand shot out like lightning. His fingers closed around an arm that shouldn't have been there, warm and firm beneath his grip. For the briefest heartbeat, the shimmer of air solidified into the outline of a woman—long hair cascading like woven moonlight, eyes glowing like twin blossoms caught in starlight.
She didn't struggle. Instead, her lips curved into a smile that was equal parts mockery and delight.
"Oh my…" her voice rang soft and melodic, brushing over his skin like a breeze through blossoms. "Our little boy is bold, hm? Pulling girls into alleys already?"
Rin's jaw tightened. "You've been following me."
"Following?" She tilted her head, the faint outline of her horns catching stray light, their wooden sheen glimmering. She leaned in closer, lowering her voice until her breath ghosted his ear. "No, no, sweet one… I've been watching. There's a difference."
He shoved her back against the wall, blade sliding half-free from its sheath. Yet even cornered, she only laughed—a sound like chimes tumbling down crystal stairs.
"Mmm. Strong arms, sharp eyes, quick reflexes…" Her eyes flicked to the blade, then back to his face. "And here I thought I'd have to tease you awake. How cute—our prince thinks he's hunting, when really…" she tapped his chest with one delicate finger, right over his heart, "…he's the one caught."
Rin's grip tightened, but his ears burned faintly at her tone. "Stop playing games."
"Games?" She laughed again, this time more lightly, leaning back as though she had all the time in the world. Her form shimmered, half-visible, her body outlined in moonlit glow but never fully there. "Oh, child, I haven't even started playing with you yet."
She shifted suddenly, twisting her arm in his grip, not to break free but to slide closer. Now their faces were almost touching, and she whispered with wicked sweetness:
"You're adorable when you're serious."
Before he could reply, her free hand blossomed with glowing pollen, drifting like petals in the wind. The alley shimmered with golden haze, the world tilting. Rin's vision blurred even as she smiled, lifting her finger to her lips.
"Shhh… sleep now. You'll thank me later."
The last thing he saw before darkness claimed him was her amused, teasing grin—like a fox who had stolen the hunter's trap and turned it into a toy.
The Codex went into rin consciousness to slap him back into reality and his sight returned in fragments as he forced his eyes open.
The room unfolded like the interior of a dream, vast and flowing, more akin to the command chamber of a starship than a mere place of rest. Every line curved with purpose—walls, ceiling, and floor all seemed to ripple together in a seamless design, as if the space itself had been carved from light.
Above, the ceiling was a masterpiece of motion and hue: glowing ribbons of violet and indigo swept across it in sweeping arcs, pulsing faintly as though they responded to some silent rhythm. Their patterns were cosmic, resembling nebulae stretched thin, as if someone had peeled open the skin of the night sky and fitted it neatly overhead.
The floor mirrored the heavens, black marble veined with silver and violet threads, polished to such perfection that it caught the ceiling's glow and turned it into constellations beneath the feet. Walking here felt less like crossing a room and more like drifting across the galaxy, every step scattering imagined starlight.
At the center, a bed rested upon a low platform lit from below, the glow tracing its contours in liquid sapphire. Its sheets, thrown carelessly across, seemed soft enough to swallow a body whole—an island of comfort adrift in this cosmic sanctuary. To the side, sleek couches and chairs curved into the architecture like companions of the space, places to sit and marvel at the vast screen stretched across one wall, which displayed a shifting image of deep space—a violet nebula, ever shifting, ever alive.
The air was cool, humming with the faint purr of hidden systems. Every surface seemed deliberate: smooth, unbroken, sculpted to erase the boundary between human comfort and futuristic artistry. This was not merely a bedroom. It was a cathedral of light and shadow, a place where sleep itself might feel like venturing into the stars, and waking could only ever be the beginning of another voyage.
After looking around Rin looked at the corner of the room to see a beautiful woman on a chair of ice reading a book.
She sat upon the chair carved not merely from ice, but from living crystal—its edges glowing faintly, as though it trapped the soul of the aurora within. Her presence was enough to still the very air around her, commanding silence, reverence, and fear all in the same breath. Yet unlike a being of pure frost, there was no harshness to her beauty. Her allure was divine, flawless, a harmony of winter's perfection and elven grace.
Her hair cascaded like silvered snow, long and luminous, shimmering faintly as though it carried the reflection of the moon itself. It framed a face too perfect to belong to mortals—sharp, regal lines softened by an ageless beauty that drew eyes even as her cold aura warned them to keep their distance. Her crown was no crude circlet, but a crown of crystalline spires, each resembling frozen blossoms of ice-lilies, delicate yet deadly, symbol of both beauty and dominion.
Her gown flowed like woven frost and moonlight, a fabric that seemed spun from starlight itself, layered in silvery whites and midnight shadows. Embroidered patterns of vines and snowflakes traced across its surface, shifting faintly as though alive with winter magic. The fur-lined mantle draped across her shoulders gleamed like freshly fallen snow, completing the aura of a queen who ruled not just with power, but with presence.
Her eyes were her most haunting feature—pale, glacial blue laced with a faint golden shimmer, as though frost and sunlight warred endlessly in their depths. They carried the clarity of eternal ice, capable of seeing through lies and weakness, yet also the warmth of a distant sun that could nurture loyalty in those deemed worthy.
In her hand, she held no weapon, for she was the weapon—the embodiment of winter's splendor and wrath. Yet a faint orb of frost and light hovered above her palm, pulsing softly like a frozen star, radiating both beauty and dread.
She was not merely an ice queen, nor merely an elf—she was the marriage of eternity and frost, of divine beauty and chilling majesty. A being to whom kneeling would feel like worship, and defiance would mean annihilation.
Rin's voice was quiet, but it cut through the chamber.
"…Who are you?"
The woman in the chair closed her book with deliberate care, the sound like a shard of ice settling into place. When she rose, the air shifted—an unspoken reverence, as though the room itself bowed. Each step she took echoed softly, snow falling in a place where no winter should exist.
The woman rose gracefully, each movement carrying the weight of centuries. The air shifted as if the room itself bowed in deference. She crossed the distance unhurried, the faint sound of her steps echoing like falling snow.
When she stood before him, the frostlight painted her features in a glow both tender and unyielding. She leaned forward, just slightly, and her lips curved—not in arrogance, but in something far more disarming.
"I am Seraphina Sylvanyr," she said, her voice a harmony of steel and frost. "Queen of this nation. Guardian of the bloodline that has endured for a thousand years."
She stopped before him, her gaze unflinching. For a heartbeat, the weight of centuries pressed into her eyes—measuring, confirming, remembering.
"I…" Her tone softened, almost imperceptibly. "…am your grandmother."
Rin's hand twitched at his side, uncertain. Her declaration was delivered without doubt, as if the necklace on his chest, the blood in his veins, and the resemblance she saw were all the proof she needed.
After the reunion was over, Seraphina asked, so how is your mother and why didn't she follow you since she is the only one that could bring you here
Then Rin responded in a slightly sad tone, not extremely saddened since he never got to see her, but not happy or ungrateful either as he knew what it felt like to lose a loved one.
Rin replied quietly: "She died when I was born."
For the first time, Seraphina faltered. The composure of a queen, the armor of centuries, cracked at the edges. Her fingers curled slightly at her side, and her breath caught as if struck. Yet no tears fell; she had lived too long for that. She only whispered, almost to herself:
"…Liora."
The name lingered, fragile in the vastness of the room.
When she looked back at Rin, the frost in her expression had thinned. Without the grandeur of a queen, without the restraint of an elf who had seen empires rise and fall—she stepped forward and embraced him.
It wasn't long, nor elaborate. A single, quiet act. Her arms around him were firm, but awkward, as if she'd forgotten how to hold something so fragile. For a second, Rin stiffened, unsure, and then she released him—her composure swiftly returning, the mask slipping back into place. She didn't completely disintegrate in tears as Liora Sylvanyr had already broken the code and left the elf world for the sake of love.
She then went back to the corner of the room absorbed the ice then went beside him and created a new chair of ice and sat down. Seraphina's gaze lingered on the necklace at his chest. For the first time since their meeting, her voice shed its teasing lilt and grew quiet, reverent.
"That necklace you wear… it is no ornament. It is the Heart of Sylvanyr, the heirloom of our bloodline. For a thousand years, it has passed from mother to child, each bond leaving its trace upon the gem. It does not merely symbolize royalty—it remembers."
Her eyes softened as if she were staring through the jewel, seeing the weight of countless generations reflected there.
"Every bearer leaves behind more than their name. Their warmth, their will, even fragments of their memories linger within it, waiting to awaken when the next hand takes it up. It is why the people welcomed you without question—because they recognized the mark of the Crown, even if you did not. To them, that necklace is proof that the blood of Sylvanyr flows in your veins."
She leaned closer, her hand almost brushing his shoulder. "But more than proof, Rin—it is a promise. That no matter how far one of us wanders, or how much is lost, the Heart will always lead them home."
Knowing Liora she would have left a fragment of her soul to tell you her feelings and speak to you for the last time after death. To talk to her all you need is to touch the back of the necklace with your blood and your finger print simultaneously to unlock the memory.
She also likely programmed it to teleport you here when you fall unconscious
I would give you space to have your last bond with my daughter. See you st dinner. She then freezed time, stopping it and walked out of the room. Rin thought that she simply teleported but simply ignored it as he wasn't surprised that a powerful person could teleport.
Rin angled the blade, its edge catching a sliver of lantern light, and let it rest against the tip of his right index finger. The cut was deliberate, small, yet it stung more than it should—as though even the blade understood the act carried meaning. A single bead of blood welled up, dark against his pale skin, trembling before sliding into motion.
He raised his left thumb, catching the droplet and smearing it across the print, a quiet ritual written into instinct. Then, with the kind of care one reserves for sacred things, he pressed that bloodstained thumb against the gem at the heart of the necklace. The metal frame was cold, but the stone drank his touch like parched earth.
A pulse answered. The jewel lit from within, veins of frost-runes spilling outward in fractal patterns—like ice cracking across glass, or like the hidden branches of a tree revealed in lightning. For a moment, Rin felt his heartbeat caught in that same rhythm, as if the necklace wasn't unlocking but synchronizing.
Blood, lineage, sacrifice. Blade, legacy, burden. Gem, memory, truth.
The seal broke not with violence, but with a softness so profound it was almost cruel. Light spilled forth, and warmth bled into him—an impossible warmth, the kind that had been denied to him his whole life. It wrapped around the jagged wound of his heart, soothing the guilt of patricide, whispering that even in ruin, some bonds endure.
It wasn't power that came forth, but memory. And memory, Rin realized, could cut deeper than any blade.
Codex Record: The Heart of Sylvanyr
Artifact Classification: Royal Relic, Lineage Heirloom, Memory Vessel
Appearance
A silver chain of intricate elven weave, crowned by a gem the color of frozen starlight.
The gem is faintly veined with runes, unseen until awakened by blood and touch.
When activated, it pulses like a living heart, its glow a fusion of moonlight and frost.
Origin & Function
The Heart of Sylvanyr has passed from mother to child for over a millennium, each bearer leaving behind fragments of their essence.
More than a symbol of royalty, it is a living archive—a vessel that carries warmth, will, and memory across generations.
It serves as both proof of bloodline and a beacon, always drawing lost heirs back to the roots of their people.
Cultural Significance
Among the Sylvanyr elves, the necklace is sacred. To glimpse it is to know the wearer carries the mark of the Crown.
Civilians instinctively honor its bearer, though few understand why; the recognition is woven into instinct, passed down as tradition.
The Heart is said to "remember home," ensuring no child of Sylvanyr ever wanders without being seen.
Sealing Mechanism
Its memories are locked behind dual seals: blood and fingerprint, ensuring that only the rightful heir may awaken what lies within.
The ritual is deliberate: a wound willingly made, blood pressed into the gem with one's print—symbolizing sacrifice and recognition.
Once unsealed, the Heart does not release power, but memory. The fragments within reveal voices long silent, moments thought lost, bonds reforged across the veil of death.
Lore & Mystery
Some texts whisper that the Heart does not merely preserve memory—it synchronizes the bloodline itself, allowing the living to resonate with the wills of the past.
Others fear its warmth: that too much reliance on memory may shackle heirs to grief, leaving them bound to ghosts rather than their own path.
Whether gift or curse, the Heart of Sylvanyr remains the most enduring legacy of the royal bloodline—an inheritance not of wealth or power, but of remembrance.