The night seemed heavier now that she had left the village behind.
Celeste clutched the glowing fragment to her chest as she followed the prince through the darkened fields. The wind was cool, carrying the faint scent of earth and distant wildflowers. Every step felt like walking through a dream she didn't fully understand, a dream that promised both wonder and danger.
The prince rode beside her, silent but alert. His horse moved with the quiet confidence of a predator, muscles coiled and responsive. Celeste struggled to keep pace on foot, her legs burning with effort, her heart hammering in her chest—not just from the exertion, but from the reality of being so close to someone she barely knew and already feared.
"How far are we going?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
"Far enough that no one from your village will follow," he said, eyes scanning the horizon. "And close enough that you will not be left alone."
Celeste frowned. She wasn't sure which was more terrifying—the journey itself, or the implication that she couldn't return.
She glanced down at the fragment in her hands. It pulsed gently, like a heartbeat that belonged to her. The warmth seeped through her palms, spreading a quiet reassurance she didn't understand. She had tried for years to deny her connection to the strange things that happened around her. But tonight, there was no denying it. The fragment responded to her. It moved because of her.
The prince noticed her staring. He didn't speak, but his gaze was sharp, assessing, calculating. She imagined he could see her every thought, every hesitation. She hated that he could, but somewhere deep inside, she found herself relieved. Relief was a dangerous thing.
They reached the edge of the forest, and the prince halted his horse. Celeste stopped a few steps behind, breath ragged, chest heaving from exhaustion and nerves.
"This is where we will rest for the night," he said. He dismounted, boots crunching against the soft dirt, and gestured for her to follow. "Do not wander. Stay close."
She nodded, unable to form words.
They reached a small clearing surrounded by tall trees whose branches intertwined like protective arms. The moonlight filtered through the leaves, casting silvery patterns on the forest floor. A gentle stream murmured nearby. For a moment, Celeste thought she could forget fear entirely—just for a heartbeat.
But the fragment flared suddenly in her hands, bright enough to make her gasp.
The prince tensed. "What is it?" he asked.
"I… I don't know," she admitted. The warmth in her hands shifted, almost urgent. "It's like it's calling… somewhere."
He studied her closely. "It is connected to you," he said softly. "And you are connected to it. That much is certain."
Celeste swallowed. "Connected… how?"
"That is something you will have to discover," he said, voice low. "And soon. The longer you wait, the harder it becomes to control."
Control. The word made her stomach twist. She hadn't wanted any of this—hadn't wanted magic, attention, or danger. But the fragment was hers, and it had chosen her. She couldn't pretend otherwise.
"Will it hurt me?" she asked.
The prince's eyes softened ever so slightly. "Not if you learn. But if you ignore it…" He left the sentence unfinished, and that alone was enough to make her shiver.
Silence fell between them, broken only by the gentle murmur of the stream and the distant rustling of leaves. Celeste noticed the prince glancing at her from time to time, his gaze unreadable, but something quietly observant lingered there. He was not like anyone she had ever met. Every movement, every word, was measured. Yet somehow… she trusted him, in the strangest, most reluctant way.
They set up a small camp by the stream. The prince seemed unconcerned with comfort—he simply laid a blanket and sat cross-legged, watching the shadows beyond the clearing. Celeste tried to imitate him but kept glancing at the fragment, which now floated just above her palms, softly illuminating the space around her.
"You should sleep," the prince said, finally breaking the silence. "It will be a long journey tomorrow."
Celeste shook her head. "I can't… I'm not used to… all this."
"All this?" he asked, a faint edge of amusement in his voice. "You mean the forest, the night, or me?"
She flushed, looking away. "All of it."
"Then you are honest," he noted. "A rare trait."
Celeste wanted to respond, but no words came. She felt small, strange, exposed. And yet… safe. A contradiction she didn't understand.
The night deepened. Stars glimmered above, their light soft and distant. Celeste felt the pull again, gentle, insistent, like an invisible hand guiding her thoughts. She closed her eyes, letting the warmth of the fragment seep into her mind. Images flickered behind her eyelids—bright light, streaks of silver, shadows moving just beyond her understanding.
She gasped softly and opened her eyes. The prince was watching her.
"You saw it," he said.
"I… I think so," she whispered.
"Good," he replied. "Tomorrow, we begin."
Celeste's stomach twisted. Begin what? She had no idea—but the thought of returning to her old, quiet life suddenly seemed impossible. The stars above, the glowing fragment, the prince… they had changed everything.
She tried to imagine life back in Lumeris: the small cottage, the quiet neighbors, the simple routines. It felt like a dream she could no longer reach.
Her thoughts drifted to the prince. He had said she was chosen. But chosen for what? And why her?
Questions swirled in her mind, but sleep came slowly. The fragment's glow dimmed as she drifted into a restless doze, but warmth remained in her hands, comforting and strange.
In the distance, through the trees, a faint flicker of movement caught her eye. Shadows that didn't belong to the forest. Eyes that glinted faintly under the moonlight.
She woke fully, heart racing. The prince was already awake, watching her with that same unreadable expression.
"They are coming," he said softly.
Celeste's breath caught. "Who?"
"The ones who do not like change," he replied. "The ones who will stop at nothing to prevent what has begun."
Her chest tightened. The warmth of the fragment surged, responding to the danger she hadn't yet fully seen. She gripped it tighter, realizing with a sudden jolt that she was no longer just a girl from a quiet village.
She was something else entirely.
And whatever had chosen her… it was already moving.