Night pressed thickly against the castle walls.
Aria lay curled on a narrow bed of carved stone softened by furs. The chamber was strange—both vast and suffocating—lit only by a single lantern that burned with pale, root-fed flame. She had not yet grown used to the silence of this place, so unlike the hum of city streets or the chatter of her world. Here, silence had a weight, as though it were listening.
Her eyes fluttered shut, exhaustion pulling at her. But then, a sound.
The creak of a door.
She sat up sharply. Lirien stood there, dark cloak pooling around his boots, his pale eyes unreadable. Behind him, guards waited, their armor glinting.
"Get up," he said. His gaze slid past her, landing on the figure sprawled on the other side of the chamber.
Xyren.
He stirred, amber eyes glinting in the dim light. "What is it now?"
"Come." Lirien's tone was final.
Something passed between the brothers—sharp, brittle, unspoken. Then Xyren rose without a word, brushing past Aria. His cloak whispered against the stone, and then he was gone, the door closing behind them with a hollow echo.
Aria was left alone.
Her chest tightened. She listened to the emptiness, every creak of the castle settling making her jump. Minutes stretched into hours. Or maybe it was less—time seemed to lose its shape in this place.
At last, the door opened again.
Lirien returned, but not alone. A girl followed behind him—tall, graceful, her skin glowing faintly as if catching hidden light. Her hair fell in silver sheets down her back, her eyes sharp and unreadable. She carried folded garments of silk and root-fiber, shimmering in pale colors Aria had never seen.
The girl stopped in front of her. Aria shrank back instinctively, but Lirien's voice cut through the air.
"Dress. You will come."
Aria's throat went dry. "Come where?"
He didn't answer. His gaze was iron. "You will do as you're told."
The girl dropped the clothes onto the bed, her expression cool and distant. Then she turned and left without a word.
Aria's hands shook as she lifted the garments. The fabric was soft as water, flowing between her fingers, whispering against her skin as she slipped into them. The cut was strange—long, sweeping sleeves, cords that wrapped around her waist, a collar high and stiff. She caught sight of herself in a polished piece of obsidian propped in the corner. The reflection was warped, but enough. She looked like someone else.
When she stepped out, Lirien's gaze flicked over her once, assessing, then he turned. "Follow."
The halls of the castle stretched before them. For the first time, Aria saw more than the narrow path to the library or her chamber. The corridors were vast, lined with roots that crawled through the stone, pulsing faintly as though alive. Windows opened into impossible heights, revealing Skyria's endless skies, the stars glimmering so close she felt she could touch them.
And then—
They entered the heart of the castle.
The doors opened with a groan, and Aria's breath caught. The chamber within was enormous, its walls carved with spiraling patterns that glowed faintly with embedded crystals. Roots descended from the ceiling like chandeliers, their ends flowering with pale blossoms that shed cold light.
At the center stood a dais, and beyond it—through a wide balcony—she saw it.
The Tree.
It rose from the heart of Carfein, vast and luminous, its branches spearing the sky, its roots plunging through cloud into the hidden earth below. Its glow bathed the castle in silver light, making the air hum with a living pulse.
Aria froze, her mouth parted in awe.
She had never seen anything like it. Not in dreams. Not in nightmares.
Lirien's hand pressed lightly to her shoulder, firm enough to jolt her back to the present.
"Do not stare like a child," he murmured. His voice was quiet, but laced with steel. "You stand in the house of kings. Remember that."
Aria's eyes darted away, but her heart still hammered.
She followed him deeper into the chamber, the shadows of roots stretching long across the marble floor. The Tree's glow pulsed behind her, a silent reminder: she was further from home than she had ever imagined possible.
And there was no waking from it.