It was the sound of shifting sheets — soft, almost hesitant — that drew Zelene's attention.
She turned from the window, the moonlight spilling silver across the wooden floorboards, and froze.
Ray's fingers twitched. His breathing, once ragged and shallow, steadied. Slowly, painfully, his eyes fluttered open — faintly dazed but burning with stubborn life.
"Ray…" Zelene whispered, crossing the room in an instant. "You're awake."
He blinked, as if reorienting himself. "…Milady?"
"Don't—" she caught herself, voice lowering. "Don't call me that. Not here. My name is Lynn."
His brows knit faintly. "Lynn?"
She nodded, forcing calm. "It's safer that way. The people here… they don't know who we are. It's better if they don't."
Ray tried to sit up, but his arms shook from exhaustion. She immediately steadied him by the shoulders."Easy. You need to rest."
"I'm fine," he muttered, though his voice betrayed him — hoarse and weak. He looked up at her, eyes softening. "You've been worried."
Zelene blinked. "…Of course I have. You nearly died."
That faint, familiar smirk ghosted across his lips. "Wouldn't be the first time."
She frowned, but couldn't suppress the small tremor of relief in her chest. "We can't stay here long. Tomorrow, we head for Dravenhart. They might still—"
He caught her wrist gently. "We'll leave tomorrow then. I'm good to go."
She opened her mouth to argue — but the look in his eyes silenced her.Ray, for all his exhaustion, still carried that unshakable steadiness.
"…Tomorrow," she repeated softly.
Before she could say anything more, a sudden crash echoed from outside — followed by raised voices.
Finn and Elias.
Zelene exchanged a glance with Ray, then stood quickly. "Stay here. I'll see what's happening."
Ray nodded, though his gaze followed her to the door.
---
The air outside was sharp, tinged with smoke from the firepit.
Finn stormed past her, muttering under his breath, his steps heavy and frustrated. "You never learn, Elias."
Zelene watched him disappear into the treeline before turning to where Elias stood by the garden fence, his back slouched slightly, his hands clasped before him.
"Elias," she called softly. "What happened?"
He didn't turn at first. The night was too quiet — even the crickets seemed to hold their breath.
When he finally faced her, his expression was different. Gone was the gentle clumsiness. His eyes, usually hidden by messy strands of blond hair, glowed faintly beneath the moonlight — gold, faint and otherworldly.
"Lynn," he said softly. Then, quieter, "No… Zelene."
She froze, every muscle in her body tensing. "How—"
"That doesn't matter."
Her pulse raced. The way he said her name — not with accusation, but certainty — sent a chill down her spine.
Elias stepped closer, his tone solemn. "There's something I must tell you. But first… I have a request."
She swallowed. "A request?"
"Take Finn with you when you leave," he said. "He needs to see the world. To remember that it still turns without me."
Zelene frowned. "What do you mean? You make it sound like you're not coming."
"I'm not," Elias said quietly. "Not yet."
"Elias…"
He looked at her then — really looked — and for a moment, she caught a glimpse of something vast behind his tired smile. A weight that didn't belong to a simple man.
"I know what happened to your family," he said finally, voice low. "And I know why the royal bloodline turned against the House of Evandelle. But I can't reveal that to you yet."
Her heart clenched. "Then why tell me anything at all?"
"Because you deserve to know where to begin."
He turned toward the forest, eyes following the mist that curled through the trees like smoke.
"Long ago," Elias began, his voice quiet yet heavy, "before crowns divided kingdoms and men began to name their gods… there existed five celestial sentinels — the Auryn. They were not worshiped, nor were they divine. They were the world's pulse — born of the first light that pierced the eternal dusk."
His hand brushed faintly through the air, tracing shapes like fading constellations.
"The Crimson Auryn, bearer of the Flame of Will — blessed, or cursed, with the power to judge and rewrite fate."
"The Verdant Auryn, keeper of Resonance — able to mend what is broken, in body, spirit, and even time, though each healing leaves a wound upon themselves."
"The Cerulean Auryn, voice of Echoes — who could hear what lingers beyond, the truths of past lives and the whispers of lost souls."
"The Aureate Auryn, hand of Veins and Tides — gifted to sway emotion and destiny, to turn fear into courage, or loyalty into betrayal."
"And the Umbral Auryn, the Veiled One — bound to conceal, erase, or devour truths that threaten the balance of all creation."
"They once moved as one," Elias continued, his voice deepening with the weight of memory, "their gifts weaving harmony across the realm. But harmony never lasts — not when will and power meet."
He looked into the firelight, eyes distant. "When the Crimson Auryn fell into a deep slumber, the others began to drift apart. Time eroded their unity, their names became myths, and their gifts—mere superstition. The world forgot them, as if they had never walked it at all."
Zelene's brows furrowed, her tone uncertain. "That's just a legend," she said softly, almost to herself. "Something old scholars tell children to make sense of miracles… You mean—it's true?"
Elias's gaze met hers, golden and steady. "Truth often hides in what the world calls legend."
Her breath caught. "…Then why was my family involved…?"
He nodded slowly. "If you wish to understand why the world turned blade against your house, you must uncover the remnants of the Auryn's line. They are hidden — in flesh, in name, in bloodlines that forgot what they carry."
Zelene's lips parted, her voice trembling. "…How can I find them?"
Elias's gaze shifted toward the cabin, where Ray lay asleep under the faint glow of the hearth.
"The Aureate Auryn's light still burns," he murmured. "The one who commands emotion and destiny — he is closer to you than you think."
Zelene froze. The air between them thickened.
"…Ray…" she whispered.
Elias said nothing. But silence was all the answer she needed.
Fragments of something deeper flickered through her mind — warmth, recognition, a strange pull she could never name until now.
Elias's tone softened. "The Auryn are bound by instinct. When they stand before the one tied to the Flame of Will — the Crimson's heir — they will feel it. The unspoken urge to protect, to serve, to never stray."
He smiled faintly, his eyes dimming like dying embers.
"Perhaps that is why you survived the fall, Lady Zelene. The world does not so easily abandon its chosen."
"The chosen…" she echoed, voice barely audible.
"Once," Elias said quietly, "there was a princess — not by blood, but by purpose — who carried the Flame's heart. When the Crimson slept, her light endured. Perhaps, that light still burns… in you."
The forest wind stirred, rustling the leaves like whispers of forgotten gods. Zelene stood frozen, torn between disbelief and an ache that pulsed like memory.
"Go to Dravenhart," Elias told her gently. "The next truth waits there. Be wary of those who wear crowns, for they were once bound to serve the Auryn before they learned to betray."
Zelene's voice quivered. "Elias… who are you, truly?"
He smiled faintly — quiet, almost sorrowful.
"Someone who once served the Flame."
And before she could say another word, he stepped back into the mist — swallowed by moonlight and trees — leaving Zelene with the echo of his voice and the beginning of a truth too ancient to be denied.