The great doors of the Ivory Hall groaned open, releasing a cascade of gold light and murmured reverence. Every conversation died mid-breath; every fan stilled in the air. The herald's voice cut through the silence like a blade wrapped in silk.
"Presenting Their Majesties — Queen Lysara and King Theron of Aurenfall."
And just like that, the room bowed to the throne of power.
Zelene followed suit, her gown sweeping across marble veined with starlight. She'd seen paintings of the queen before—grace carved into perfection—but the woman who entered was something else entirely. Queen Lysara was elegance distilled to ice: silver hair coiled like a crown of winter, a smile so polished it gleamed sharper than a dagger's edge.
And those eyes—cool, assessing, impossibly aware.
They flickered toward Zelene for a fraction of a second, and she felt it: that quiet dissection, that subtle weighing of worth.
"Lady Zelene Evandelle," the herald's voice carried again as her father stepped forward, announcing their family's presence to the crown.
Zelene curtsied with flawless poise, but her pulse betrayed her calm façade.
The queen's lips curved faintly. "The Evandelles... I hear your lands have weathered the last storm season untouched. A blessing, indeed."
"Indeed, Your Majesty," Zelene's father replied.
But the queen wasn't done. Her gaze shifted—piercing, deliberate—locking on Zelene once more.
"And you must be the young lady whose engagement caused quite the stir this evening."
The air thinned. Conversations nearby softened into pointed whispers. Zelene's throat tightened, but she lifted her chin slightly, matching the queen's gaze.
"Yes, Your Majesty. Though I admit, it's as much a surprise to me as to everyone else."
A ripple of stifled laughter, shock, and admiration swept through nearby nobles.
The queen tilted her head — a cat studying the mouse that dared to speak.
"Honesty," Lysara murmured. "A rare thing in this hall. Tell me, my dear, do you find the match... favorable?"
Every eye turned. Even Kael, standing near his house banner, glanced up from his shadowed stance — unreadable.
Zelene smiled politely, the way she'd practiced countless times in the mirror.
"I find that fate rarely asks for my opinion, Your Majesty. But I've learned that even an unexpected path may lead to purpose."
For a heartbeat, silence. Then, to her surprise, the queen's lips curved—slightly. Almost approvingly.
"Spoken like an Evandelle."
King Theron gave a soft chuckle beside his queen, easing the tension slightly. "Lysara, you'll frighten the poor girl."
"If she's to stand beside a Dravenhart," the queen replied smoothly, "she must learn to stand before far worse."
Zelene bowed her head, concealing the tiny flicker of pride—and defiance—that warmed her chest.
The queen turned away, her gown whispering across the floor, leaving Zelene surrounded by the hum of resumed chatter and sharp gazes.
But one pair of eyes lingered.
Kael's.
From across the ballroom, his gaze met hers through the crystal chandeliers' fractured light. No words, no gestures—just that heavy, silent acknowledgment.
An alliance neither of them had chosen...
but one that, perhaps, would change everything.
---
The laughter and violins had faded hours ago, but I could still hear them — echoing faintly behind my ribs, like ghosts that refused to leave.
My chamber was quiet, too quiet. The air still smelled faintly of roses and candle wax. I sat before the mirror, watching the reflection of a girl who looked like me but wasn't me. The heavy gown, the pale jewels, the way my hair had been twisted to look effortless — it all felt like a costume someone else had worn better.
I sat by the window, hair unpinned, gown wrinkled from hours of smiling. The city below glimmered under moonlight — the capital of Aurenfall, proud and glittering. From here, it looked peaceful. From here, you couldn't hear the whispers.
I could still feel the queen's eyes on me. The subtle amusement in her tone. Spoken like an Evandelle.
A compliment wrapped in a test.
I wanted to laugh. I wanted to scream.
But instead, I just sat there, fingers twitching, the faint pulse of Aether Requiem humming under my skin like something alive.
Ever since the announcement, the energy had felt... strange.
Restless.
Pulling at me in ways it never had before.
"Two years," I whispered to my reflection. "Two years since I woke up in this world, in this body, pretending to be her."
The real Zelene Evandelle had been proud — impossibly proud. Brilliant, confident, untouchable. The kind of girl who'd say she didn't need guards because the light itself would bow to her will.
But I wasn't her.
Not really.
And tonight proved it.
An engagement I hadn't chosen. A queen who tested me like prey. And Kael Dravenhart — the man they called the Shadow's Heir, as cold as he was impossible to read.
I pressed a hand to the windowsill and whispered,
"Show me what I'm not seeing."
The air stirred. Threads of faint light bled through the dimness, weaving across the room like living veins. I didn't force them this time — I listened.
The first visions came fragmented, half-formed.
Snatches of conversation.
Faces blurred in candlelight.
The king, frowning.
Kael, turning away before someone could meet his eyes.
And then—something else.
A pulse.
Far away.
The threads drifted toward the horizon, faint but insistent, pulling my gaze toward the distant ridges beyond the city — the darkened outskirts where the walls met the wilderness.
There was... something there.
Not a sound. Not an object. A presence.
It flickered, steady as a heartbeat.
I frowned. "Why?"
No answer. Just the subtle weight of the Aether — patient, certain, waiting.
It had never guided me like this before. And yet, I couldn't shake the feeling that ignoring it would be... dangerous.
I let the light fade, the threads dissolving back into stillness.
I sat for a long time after that, watching the dawn bleed slow and pink through the curtains.
---
The pull didn't fade. It grew sharper.
Every night since the ball, I'd felt it — that same faint pressure in my chest, tugging me toward the old roads beyond the northern gates.
By the third morning, I couldn't ignore it anymore.
I left before sunrise, in plain travel clothes, cloak pulled tight around my shoulders. The guards didn't question me — the Evandelle crest on my ring was enough. They assumed I was training or visiting the outer estates.
If only I knew myself.
The further I went, the quieter it got. Civilization fell away. Trees rose tall and skeletal, their branches whispering in the wind. The sky was pale with fog.
Every few steps, I could feel the Aether's rhythm again — faint, like a heartbeat behind a wall.
I followed it through the trees, over damp ground, through places that hadn't seen noble shoes in years.
Hours passed.
When I finally stopped, it wasn't because I found something. It was because I felt it — like stepping into a different kind of silence.
The forest around me stilled. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
The pulse sharpened.
And then I saw it — a half-collapsed clearing, an old campsite maybe, the remnants of chains glinting faintly in the moss.
No one was there. Not at first.
But the moment I stepped forward, my Gift responded — light flickering unbidden in my vision. Aether threads trembled, showing me a shimmer of movement. Not now, but before.
Someone had been here.
Recently.
And then I saw it — not through sight, but through Aether memory.
A shadowed figure dragging themselves across the forest floor. Blood. Metal. And that same golden pulse that had drawn me here.
Alive. Barely.
I let the vision fade, breath catching. My hands trembled. Whoever it was, they were close. Closer than I'd thought.
"Who are you?" I whispered. The trees didn't answer.
But I could feel it now — faint warmth lingering in the air, the trace of breath, the echo of something human.
Not a noble. Not a thief. Something else.
The Aether thrummed again, low and certain.
Find him.
I stood still for a long while, the forest pressing close around me.
I didn't move. I didn't speak.
Because for the first time since I'd arrived in this world, I realized something that chilled me —
this wasn't just fate pulling me.
It was the world itself.
I knew I was close when the Aether began to hum louder — not in my head, but in my bones.
The air around me grew heavier, colder, yet alive with that strange rhythm that my Gift had followed for days. Every breath I took felt stolen from someone else's lungs.
The clearing ahead was dim. Shafts of sunlight broke through the branches like fractured glass. And there, beneath one of the trees — movement.
I froze.
At first, I thought it was just the wind shifting the leaves. But then, a soft, broken sound cut through the quiet.
A breath.
I moved closer, cautious. My boots sank into the moss. The faint scent of iron — blood — grew sharper.
He was there.
A man, half-slumped against a gnarled oak. His clothes were torn, streaked with dried mud and blood. Shackles still clung to his wrists, one broken, one dragging a length of chain. His hair, dark as night, hung in disarray across his face.
But what caught my attention wasn't the state of him — it was the faint shimmer that hovered around him. The same golden pulse that had called me here. The Aether was... clinging to him.
He stirred as I approached, instinct snapping him to alertness. His hand shot to his belt — empty — and his gaze lifted to me, sharp despite the exhaustion.
His eyes were like tempered steel. Cold, assessing, but too lucid for a dying man.
"Stay back," he rasped. His voice was low, rough, threaded with authority. "I don't know who sent you."
I stopped a few paces away. "If I were here to kill you, you'd already be dead."
That earned me a faint, humorless smirk. "You sound confident for someone alone."
"Confidence is an Evandelle curse."
His head tilted slightly at that — recognition flickering in his eyes, though faint. "Evandelle?"
"Yes." I hesitated, studying him. "Zelene Evandelle. And you are...?"
He didn't answer right away. His breathing was uneven, but his focus stayed sharp. He was calculating — the kind of man who weighed every word before giving it away.
Finally, he muttered, "No one you should have found."
"That's not helpful," I said softly, crossing my arms. "I don't wander into cursed forests for vague answers."
That actually earned a quiet laugh — dry, pained, but real. "Then you shouldn't have come here at all, Lady Evandelle. The forest doesn't take kindly to curiosity."
I crouched beside him, ignoring the protest in his tone. His injuries were bad — lacerations across his arms, a gash along his side, and exhaustion written in every line of his face. He'd been running. Escaping.
The shackles told their own story.
"Who did this?" I asked quietly.
He didn't look at me. "People who don't like questions."
I frowned. "So nobles."
That pulled another faint smirk from him — reluctant this time. "You're not wrong."
My fingers itched. The Aether thrummed, restless. I could feel it — that his life thread was tangled, unstable, close to snapping. Instinctively, I reached for it, just a small pulse of my Gift to steady his rhythm.
But the moment I brushed the air near him, he flinched violently. The shadows around his feet shifted, like smoke caught in a storm.
The Aether inside me recoiled.
I froze. The realization hit me like ice.
That wasn't ordinary darkness. That was... another Gift.
"You—"
"Don't," he said sharply, though his breath came ragged now. "Don't touch the shadows. They don't like your kind of light."
My kind of light.
Aether Requiem — celestial, luminous, dangerous to what shouldn't exist.
"What are you?" I whispered.
His lips twitched. "A problem you don't want to inherit."
We stared at each other, silence hanging heavy between us.
He wasn't lying. I could feel that through the Aether threads that hummed faintly between us — truth, fatigue, and pain. But beneath all that, something else lingered. Something... familiar.
Whatever he was, my Gift recognized him. The same way it recognized inevitable outcomes.
"Why did I find you?" I asked.
"You didn't," he said simply. "You were led."
The forest wind stirred, carrying that truth between us.
I wanted to press him further, but he was fading fast, eyes half-lidded, posture sinking. I had two choices — leave him here, or bring him back to the palace and risk every political hornet's nest imaginable.
I sighed, pushing up to my feet. "You're lucky I'm feeling generous today."
"Don't," he murmured, barely conscious now. "Don't take me there—"
"Too late," I muttered, summoning a faint glow of Aether threads around my palms. They wrapped gently around his frame, lifting him just enough to ease his weight. "I'm not in the habit of leaving people to rot, even rude ones."
His final words before darkness claimed him were quiet — almost an exhale.
"Then you're already in danger, Evandelle."
---
When I finally crossed through the palace gates, the guards were pale with nerves. I must have looked a sight — cloak torn, mud streaked on my hem, Aether still faintly glimmering around my hands as I guided the unconscious stranger along.
Servants scattered.
By the time I reached the marble corridors, the inevitable happened.
"Zelene."
My father's voice. Cool. Controlled. Dangerous.
Alaric Evandelle stood by the staircase, Caelan at his side, both wearing identical expressions — one of relief buried under restrained fury.
"Before you start," I began, "I can explain—"
"You vanished for six hours," Caelan cut in sharply. "Without escort, without informing the staff. The palace is in a state of panic."
"I wasn't gone that long," I muttered.
"You were."
Alaric descended a few steps, eyes narrowing when they landed on the man behind me — unconscious, still bleeding, draped in Evandelle colors.
"And that," he said coldly, "would be your explanation?"
I swallowed. "Yes, actually."
Caelan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh, stars help us."
My father's expression didn't shift. "You bring an unknown, potentially dangerous man into this house — without clearance, without context — and you expect me to entertain this?"
"He was dying," I said, voice low but steady. "And the Aether—my Gift—led me to him. I couldn't ignore it."
"The Aether is not an excuse for recklessness," Alaric said sharply. "It's a responsibility. And you may have just brought a threat inside our walls."
"Or an ally," I countered.
The silence that followed was thick enough to drown in.
For a moment, I thought he'd order the guards to drag the man away. But then Alaric exhaled, slow and heavy. "Put him under watch. No one enters his quarters without my authorization." His eyes cut to me. "And you will explain everything. In detail."
I nodded once. "Yes, Father."
As the guards took the stranger away, I caught Caelan's glance — a mix of frustration and faint curiosity.
"Whatever this is," he muttered, "it better be worth it, sister."
I wasn't sure it was. But the Aether's hum hadn't faded. If anything, it was stronger.
And as I watched them carry the stranger deeper into the palace, one thought refused to leave my mind—
The Aether never leads without reason.