Elias Leywin POV
I held the wine flute, full of lemonade, close to my chest as my eyes scanned the room before me.
The ballroom glittered like an open jewel box. Light spilling from chandeliers strung with crystals and gold, refracting across polished marble, glass goblets, and the subtle shimmer of enchanted gowns. Music curled through the air like ivy, but it only brushed against my ears, drowned out by the chatter and the clinking of silver cutlery.
Even standing near the edge of the room, I felt like I was in the middle of it, like every eye might turn and wonder, 'Who let that boy in?'
The white tunic I was wearing fitted me perfectly, tailored along the shoulders and trimmed in fine silver thread. A deep blue sash lied across my chest, the colour rich against the pale fabric. My black trousers were crisp, matched with shoes that shone like mirrors under the chandelier's glow. Draped over my back was a navy cape fastened with a silver brooch that made me feel... a tad too extravagant.
I tugged on it slightly.
'How did that maid get it so accurate?' I pondered to myself as I let out a heavy sigh.
The glass in my hand is sweating slightly. I tightened my grip, trying not to fidget, and glanced toward the cluster of nobles near the dance floor. People weaved and waltzed through in intricate steps with polished ease, smiling too brightly and speaking in voices that rose and fell like waves in a storm.
Everyone here seemed to know what they were doing, from how to walk, how to laugh just the right amount, how to flatter without sounding desperate.
I felt like I was walking through someone else's dream. Or rather, one that I wasn't meant to be part of...
My eyes darted around, scanning for anyone familiar. Then I heard a laugh I have grown used to over the last few weeks.
Turning my head, I spotted my friend. And took two steps towards him.
He stood near one of the central columns, exactly where the light hit just right, though I doubt that was by accident. His crimson waistcoat was pressed to perfection, black gloves tucked neatly beneath the cuff, and hair combed just enough to look effortless. He was grinning like a fool, and clearly in his element.
Surrounding him was a cluster of girls, each dressed like they had stepped out of a portrait. Layers of silk and lace rippled around them as they leaned in, giggling behind their fans, or brushing imaginary dust off his sleeves.
One of them, a taller girl with rose-gold hair and eyes like honey, touched his arm with a playful smile. He laughed again, rubbing the back of his neck.
The same gesture he always does when he's slightly embarrassed, but he seems to be enjoying the attention anyway.
I took an instinctive step back.
Of course, he's surrounded. He's the prince after all...
The air suddenly felt warmer, heavier. I glanced down at the glass in my hand. The lemonade's flat now, condensation running in little rivulets down the side of the crystal.
I set it down carefully on a passing tray and adjusted my cape again, trying to will away the lump forming in my throat.
My shoes clicked softly against the floor, 'I'll have to find a way to be more silent later,' I thought to myself as I made my way along the edge of the ballroom, weaving between clusters of nobles. I nodded when someone made eye contact, murmured a "pardon me" to a passing steward, and finally slipped through one of the arched doorways that led out onto a balcony.
Cool air wrapped around me instantly.
I let out a breath that I did not realise I had been holding.
The balcony stretched wide, its marble floor catching the soft glow of enchanted lanterns. Beyond the balustrade, the gardens unfurled into neat spirals of trimmed hedges and flower beds, flickering with distant fairy lights. And somewhere far below, a fountain gurgled quietly.
I moved toward the railing and leaned on it, resting my forearms against the stone, my navy cape shifting slightly with the breeze.
The distant hum of the party now faded as I listened to the rustle of the wind.
"Damn, someone beat me out here", a feminine voice said with an air of disappointment.
I glanced to the side, startled.
A girl is stepped onto the balcony, her gown trailing behind her like the shadow of falling leaves. It's a deep shade of green, darker than pine, but lighter than emerald, embroidered with silver thread in the shape of climbing ivy. The dress isn't overly flashy, but it flowed with quiet elegance, matching the glint of silver bracelets on her wrists. Her hair long and gunmetal-grey, is pulled half-up in a soft braid, revealing pointed ears that marked her heritage clearly.
She's an elf?
What's an elf doing here?
She exhaled loudly through her nose and walked to the opposite end of the railing, resting her arms on the marble in the same way I had.
"I was hoping to get this spot all to myself," she started, casting me a sideways glance at me. "But I suppose that was wishful thinking."
I hesitated. "I can leave, if you want-"
She waved a hand lazily. "Don't. You were here first."
We lapse into silence for a moment. The wind tugs gently at our clothes. I could still hear the echo of the ballroom behind the door, but out here it's just wind, the garden, and moonlight.
"Let me guess," she said eventually. "Too many people, and far too much meaningless small talk, for my liking at least."
I blinked. "You got all that from one look?" I questioned the mysterious girl as she pointed her finger at me.
A smug smile broke out on her face, clearly pleased with herself.
Another wave of silence washed over us as I looked at the older girl again. "Are you an-"
"Elf?" she stated, finishing my question.
"I am," she affirmed with a nod as her hands gripped the corners of her dress "My name is Tessia Eralith, Princess of the Kingdom of Elenoir"
'Ah...'
...
...
I lowered my head in a panic "I'm so sorry, princess. My name is-"
'Wait, Tessia? She looks to be about my brother's age and is an elf...'
"Um, Miss Tessia?" I asked with a tilt of my head
She hummed a "Mhm?" in response.
"Do you know a human boy named Arthur Leywin?"
Her ears visibly perked up at the mention of my brother's name.
.
"Art?" she repeated, her voice quieter now. "Yes... I do."
Her gaze swept over me again, slower this time, as if she were seeing me differently.
"You said your name is...?" she asked, as if she were putting everything together.
"Elias," I answered, swallowing around the sudden tightness in my throat. "Elias Leywin."
Tessia blinked. For the first time since she stepped onto the balcony, she looked genuinely surprised.
"You're his brother." She says piecing it together.
I nodded, pressing my lips together in an awkward smile. "You, uh... know him well?"
A smile stretched the corner of her lips as she looked out onto the garden that sprawled out before us.
"I do... or rather did." She said with an air of sadness in her voice as her ears dropped.
'So it's like that, huh? I guess I can help big bro out.'
"He used to talk about you..." I started, looking over the garden myself.
"He did?" she asked, jolting up right into my face.
I blinked, caught off-guard by her intensity. "Y-Yeah," I stammered, straightening up. "Not all the time or anything, but you know, here and there. He mentioned you."
Tessia's lips part slightly, as if she is trying to form words but doesn't quite know how. Her gaze drifted past me, distant again.
"What did he say..." she asked after a beat, more carefully this time. "About me?"
I rubbed the back of my neck, suddenly feeling way out of my depth. "Mostly good things... He said that you're stubborn and that you're his friend..."
She went quiet, her fingers tightening around the edge of the marble railing. Her expression softened, but there was something bittersweet behind her eyes, like a memory that she was both clinging to and trying to forget.
"I wasn't sure he still thought of me," she murmured.
"Well, yeah," I said, giving her a small smile. "You're clearly not someone that's easy to forget."
She smiled back at me as I heard the sound of a glass clinking. With a nod of my head, we go our separate ways.
~~~
I made my way back inside to the visibly exhausted prince.
"Where've you been?" he said, panting slightly as he rubbed some sweat from his reddened face.
"Just went to get some air", I replied, reaching out to get another flute of Lemonade.
I took a sip, looking over at the young man to my left. His once-pristine waistcoat was slightly rumpled now, a few strands of hair sticking out from where he'd run his hand through it one too many times.
"And yourself, My prince?" I asked, smiling slightly.
"Dancing," he muttered, catching the way I raised an eyebrow. "Don't look at me like that. You try fending off five different noble daughters without offending their houses."
I let out a small laugh despite myself. "Didn't seem like you were struggling earlier."
He gave me a flat look, then chuckled under his breath. "Trust me, there's a difference between entertaining attention and surviving it."
Before I could respond, a hush fell over the room. It felt as if the air itself had shifted, as if the ballroom had drawn a collective breath and held it. Heads turned. Fans lowered. Eyes lifted toward the grand staircase at the far end of the hall.
I followed their gaze.
Descending the curved steps, hand-in-hand with her father—King Glader—was Princess Kathyln.
Her gown was a soft silver-blue, like starlight on snow, with delicate frost-like embroidery that shimmered when the light touched it. The fabric clung to her upper form before flaring gently at the hips, flowing down in gauzy layers that whispered against each other with every step. Tiny gemstones were sewn into the bodice in a snowflake motif, their pale blue glint echoing the icy look in her eyes.
Her dark hair was swept up into a braided crown, pinned with silver leaves and ice crystals, leaving a few strands loose to frame her face. Around her neck rested a thin sapphire pendant, simple but elegant, regal, even.
But it wasn't just what she wore. It was how she moved that truly caught my eyes; every step was measured, as if she belonged to the stillness of a winter morning. Almost as if she were a princess. 'But she IS a princess.'
Curtis elbowed me gently. "Try not to look too enchanted," he whispered, grinning.
"I'm not", I began to protest, but the words died in my mouth as Kathyln reached the final step.
Her father leaned down to murmur something into her ear, and she nodded. Then, with a small curtsy and a kiss to his cheek, she turned forth and walked ahead.
The sea of nobles parted without her needing to ask. She walked with quiet confidence, her eyes locked on mine the whole time. I felt the weight of every gaze turn in our direction, and for a brief second, I was sure my knees were going to give out.
Curtis let out a soft, impressed whistle beside me before discreetly backing away into the crowd.
When Kathyln finally stopped in front of me, she didn't say a word. She just extended her hand, palm up, fingers slightly curled.
I looked to my right in a panic, heart beating a mile a minute, the prince now missing 'TRAITOR' I thought, before I turned back to the girl before me.
Her hand remains suspended in the space between us, poised with the same grace as everything else about her: measured, calm, deliberate. She didn't blink, didn't fidget, didn't falter. Her black eyes meet mine with a strange sort of expectation, like she's waiting to see what I'll do next.
My heart thundered in my chest loud enough that I was certain she could hear it.
This can't be real.
"I..." I swallowed, suddenly very aware of how clammy my hands felt. "Are you... asking me to dance?"
Her head tilts ever so slightly, her expression unreadable. "You don't have to if you don't want to," she said quietly, her voice as even and composed as ever. "But I would like to."
My brain scrambled for words. Something clever. Something polite. Something that's not as ridiculous as this.
Instead, I just nodded.
"I'd... I'd like that."
She didn't exactly smile, but there was a faint softening in her gaze, like ice beginning to melt. I reached out and placed my hand in hers, trying not to wince at how clammy my palm is.
Her gloved hands were soft and cold.
Without another word, she guided me toward the dance floor.
The crowd shifted naturally to make room, parting in a circle as the music swelled into something slow and regal. My breath hitched again as I realised just how many people were now watching. But all of that blurred at the edges when Kathyln turned to face me, placing one gloved hand on my shoulder while the other remained in mine.
I gently placed my other hand on her waist, the fabric of her gown icy and smooth beneath my fingertips.
"Ready?" she asked, so softly I almost thought that I had imagined it.
I nodded again, and the two of us began to move.
The dance is simple. A slow waltz, nothing extravagant, but every step felt like walking on glass. Kathyln was fluid and poised, her movements exact, leading without ever making it feel like she was. I did my best to keep up, counting silently in my head, careful not to trip or step on her toes.
"You're not bad at this," she murmured after a moment.
"Am I?" I questioned, confused about how or rather, why she thought as such.
"Maybe not the best", she added, a light smile lining her face, "I'm glad I'm better than you at least one thing, Elias."
"Only one?" I said before, adding, "I think I'm stepping on your shoes again," I murmured, keeping my voice low.
"No," she replied softly, a faint blush rising to her cheeks. "That was me."
We circled again, the swell of the music drawing us into a rhythm that felt more natural with each passing moment. I found myself smiling, just a little. For all the stiffness and ceremony around us, there was something... genuine about this.
"I still don't know why you wanted to dance with me," I said, only half teasing.
"You're one of the few people here who won't try to marry me after," she replied dryly.
[E/N: I disagree 🤣🤣🤣]
I barked a laugh. "I suppose that's fair."
Her lips curved upward, not into a full smile, but it was close. It suited her, that quiet warmth just beneath the ice.
A breath of wrongness whispered through the air. A twitch in the threads of mana around us, too sharp, too sudden.
I turned my head sharply, scanning the sea of nobles, masks, and shimmering gowns. My grip on Kathyln faltered.
She noticed. "Lias?"
"Get back," I hissed.
Before she could protest, I released her hand and thrust my palm forward, wind surging from my core in an explosive burst. It struck her square in the chest, not enough to hurt her, but enough to send her flying back across the dance floor.
She tumbled, crashing into the arms of a startled nobleman, eyes wide in betrayal and confusion.
The blast hit me full-on, a scorching inferno of mana and heat. It tore through my left side, ripping away muscle, bone, and blood in a single, blinding instant.
My left arm was simply gone, turned into ashes.
The force lifted me off my feet and flung me like a rag doll across the ballroom. Agony roared through me, primal and unrelenting.
Screams erupted. The music stopped. Shards of glass rained from above. The golden chandelier above swayed violently, one side blackened by the heatwave.
I gritted my teeth, trying to bear through the searing pain emanating from my left.
I held my right arm up and aimed my palm in the direction of the previous strike. As I focused down on my arm, a second crimson flame flew towards me.
I hastily gathered mana to my palm as a sphere quickly formed. I forced more mana into it as golden light seeped from my palm, with a single word gathering in my mind.
"RHONGO-"
The sphere changed shape, and a point formed as gold emanated from it.
"-MYNIAD"
It elongated and blasted cleanly through my assailant's attack, and the recoil sent me flying faster back into the wall behind.
My back slammed into the wall with a thunderous crash, as I felt my bones shattering from the force.
I fell down the wall, slumping, coughing, the taste of blood thick in my mouth.
"Lias!" I thought I heard someone shout.
I couldn't move. My body wouldn't respond. The cold crept in fast, wrapping around me like a blanket soaked in snow.
My vision flickered to black.
WC - 2943
Thanks for reading this chapter. Hope you all enjoyed it. 😊
All Criticism and feedback are welcome. Any suggestions for the story or plot are also more than welcome.
Holy Fucking Shit 2.5 was insane, Ignore what those Losers on Twitter are saying and play Wuthering Waves, Its so incredibly FTP friendly and the story telling is the best in Gacha by miles. I could sing this games praises for weeks upon weeks, so try it for you local hedgehog.
Special Thanks to LancelotDragonroad for editing this Chapter.
If we're all still alive, the next chapter will be released at 12 likes or on Wednesday.
Rius out.