The storm raged across the desolate landscape, a relentless force of howling winds and biting rain. Lightning split the sky in jagged streaks, illuminating the treacherous terrain of the Northern Wastes. Beneath the tempest, a lone figure pressed forward, her cloak tattered, her body battered but unyielding.
Lyris.
Her breaths came in sharp, measured exhales, each step sinking into the rain-slicked mud as she climbed the rocky incline. The storm threatened to drive her back, to force her to kneel under its wrath, but she refused. Her fingers curled into fists, bruised and scraped from the countless obstacles she had overcome in the past weeks.
She wasn't supposed to be here.
A princess had no business traversing ruins abandoned by time, navigating landscapes that devoured the unprepared. But none of that mattered. Because at the end of this hellish journey, she was certain there was a lead. A clue. Something—anything—that could bring her closer to Evolis.
A sharp gust nearly threw her off balance, but she steadied herself, her boots digging into the rocky ground.
'You're alive. I know you are.'
The thought was the only thing keeping her going. The only thing that had kept her moving for months now.
Her mind drifted back—memories flickering in and out like distant echoes.
His voice, taunting but warm.His laugh, rare but unforgettable.The way his golden eyes always burned with something deeper, something unspoken.
She clenched her jaw, pushing forward.
'I never told you, did I?'
She had always assumed there would be more time. That one day, she'd gather the courage to say it outright instead of burying it beneath teasing remarks and lingering glances. But time was cruel. It had stolen him away from her before she even had the chance.
The rain struck harder, seeping through the torn fabric of her clothes, mixing with the blood from a wound she had long since stopped acknowledging. Pain meant nothing. Fatigue meant nothing.
If he was out there, lost, suffering, fighting alone—she would find him.
A broken temple loomed ahead, its skeletal remains barely standing against the wind. It was ancient, crumbling, a relic from an era long forgotten. The villagers she had interrogated earlier had spoken of it in hushed tones.
"Seekers go there, but they never return."
Lyris exhaled, pressing her hand against the stone archway as she stepped inside, shielding herself from the storm for the first time in hours. The scent of damp earth and decay filled her lungs, but she didn't falter.
This place… it felt like a graveyard of forgotten knowledge. Of answers buried under centuries of dust and neglect.
And she wasn't leaving without something.
Lightning flashed, illuminating the cavernous space for a brief second. In that moment, she saw them—etched along the walls, half-eroded inscriptions written in an ancient dialect. She moved forward, reaching out, tracing her fingers over the symbols.
They were unfamiliar. And yet…
A sharp pain lanced through her skull, sudden and piercing.
A vision.
Not of the present, but of something long lost.
A man stood at the center of a battlefield, golden eyes burning like twin suns, his presence an unshakable force against the tide of destruction. The air around him cracked and splintered, as if reality itself struggled to contain his existence. Fragments of space warped at his command, entire sections of the battlefield folding and collapsing under unseen force. War raged around him—clashing armies, divine powers colliding in cataclysmic bursts—but he stood alone, defiant, untouchable.
The sheer weight of his presence was suffocating. Like a god walking among mortals.
Lyris' breath hitched.
She knew those eyes.
Or did she?
The image blurred at the edges, flickering between something familiar and something utterly beyond comprehension. The man—this entity—looked like Evolis. But the power radiating from him, the sheer authority with which he commanded the battlefield, was beyond anything she had ever seen. This was no human. This was something more.
Was this… his past? Or something yet to come?
Her vision cracked, the ancient energy in the temple lashing back as if repelling her intrusion. She gasped, staggering backward, gripping the hilt of her sword as her heart pounded wildly in her chest. The weight of the revelation crushed down on her, leaving her breathless, trembling—not from exhaustion, but from a realization that she could not yet understand.
Had she truly seen Evolis?
Or had she seen a ghost of something greater?
Tears pricked at the edges of her eyes, but she forced them back. This was proof. This was enough.
She had spent months chasing whispers, breaking laws, crossing boundaries she was never meant to cross. And now, at last, she had something real.
Her grip tightened around her sword.
'Wait for me, Evolis.'
No matter what it took, she would find him.
Even if she had to tear through fate itself.
The wind howled through the towering spires of Aurelion's capital, a symphony of chilling whispers against the grand palace walls. Beneath the glow of enchanted lanterns, Princess Lyris stood atop the balcony of her chambers, arms crossed as she gazed out over the city below. The distant hum of life carried upward, but her thoughts were far beyond the bustling streets.
Her mind was consumed by a single name. Evolis.
It had been months since he disappeared.
At first, she had refused to believe it. He had survived impossible trials before—he had always found a way. But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks bled into months, the weight of his absence had begun to settle over her like a storm cloud that refused to break.
She had scoured every possible lead. Spies, informants, even the ancient archives of Aurelion's greatest scholars. No records, no sightings, nothing. It was as if he had been erased from existence itself.
Yet she refused to accept that.
Clenching her fists, Lyris exhaled sharply, pushing back the emotions threatening to consume her. No, he's out there. I know it.
"Still searching?"
Lyris turned at the familiar voice. Her father, King Alden, stood at the doorway, his piercing blue eyes watching her with quiet understanding. His regal presence was as commanding as ever, his long silver hair tied back in a loose braid, but there was something softer in his expression tonight.
She hesitated before speaking. "I can't let it go."
King Alden stepped onto the balcony beside her, his gaze drifting toward the horizon. "You've always been stubborn," he mused. "Just like your mother."
Lyris flinched slightly at the mention of her mother, but she didn't respond. Instead, she turned her attention back to the cityscape, unwilling to let her father see the flicker of vulnerability in her eyes.
Alden sighed, as if already knowing the thoughts running through her mind. "There is something I must tell you."
She glanced at him warily. "What is it?"
The king's expression hardened slightly. "We've received intelligence from our northern scouts… and from certain diplomatic channels." He paused. "The Elven Kingdom is preparing for war."
Lyris stilled. "Veylith?"
He nodded. "The dark elves have begun mobilizing, and it seems the hidden kingdom of Veylith will be their battleground."
She absorbed the information, her mind already racing through the implications. Aurelion had long been detached from elven affairs—the secluded kingdom of Veylith was considered more myth than reality, whispered about in old records and ancient texts. But if a war was truly brewing there…
"Why does this concern us?" she asked, though she already suspected the answer.
Alden's gaze sharpened. "Because war has a way of spilling over borders. If the dark elves grow too bold, they could eventually turn their sights beyond Veylith. If that happens, Aurelion must be prepared."
Lyris exhaled slowly. "You want to send troops."
"I want to send you."
Her breath hitched.
She turned to face him fully, eyes narrowing. "You want me to lead an expedition into an elven war?"
"It is more than that," Alden admitted. His voice was quiet, but there was a heaviness behind it—a weight that sent a ripple of unease through Lyris' chest. "We need to establish whether the rumors are true. If Veylith truly exists, we must learn its strength. If war is imminent, we must decide where Aurelion stands. And…"
He hesitated.
Lyris' sharp eyes caught it instantly.
"And what?" she asked, her voice steady, but there was a dangerous edge beneath it.
Alden exhaled, rubbing his temples as though the words themselves were a burden. When he finally spoke, his tone was careful. Too careful.
"There have been whispers," he said, measured and deliberate. "Among the few human spies who've managed to observe the elves from afar. A strange rumor… of a human among them."
The world stilled.
Lyris' breath hitched, her pulse thrumming violently in her ears.
A human. In Veylith.
It wasn't proof. It wasn't confirmation. But it was something.
Evolis.
Her fingers clenched against the armrest of her chair. Aurelion had no known ties to Veylith. The elves had always been an enigma—legends spoken of in passing, buried in ancient records, never confirmed nor denied. And yet… if these rumors were true, if a human really was among them, then there was only one explanation.
It had to be him.
It had to be.
Her mind raced, unraveling every possibility, every scenario. What if it wasn't him? What if this was another dead end? Another cruel lead that amounted to nothing?
But no—her gut told her otherwise. The way Alden spoke, the way he hesitated, meant this wasn't something he had lightly considered. Aurelion didn't concern itself with myths. If they were investigating this, it meant the rumors had weight.
A flicker of hope sparked in her chest. A fragile, dangerous thing.
She had spent months searching. Months tearing through every trace of lost knowledge, chasing rumors like a madwoman, refusing to let doubt settle in.
And now—now, when she had nearly resigned herself to endless searching—this had fallen into her hands.
Lyris slowly straightened, forcing herself to stay composed despite the storm raging inside of her. "When do we leave?"
Alden studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. His silence stretched between them, pressing down on her like an invisible force, as if he were weighing something beyond her comprehension.
"You'll take a small force," he said at last. "Twenty elite knights. No banners. No declarations of war. Just observation."
Lyris nodded once, already forming a plan in her mind.
Find the war.Find Veylith.Find Evolis.
Alden sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. For all his authority, all his power as a king, he looked tired. Not from ruling, not from war, but from something deeper. From watching his daughter walk a path that he feared would break her.
"Lyris," he said softly.
She paused, glancing at him.
His expression shifted, no longer that of a ruler issuing orders, but of a father looking at his child. For a moment, the weight of his concern bled through his composed mask.
"Be careful," he murmured.
Lyris allowed herself a small smile, rare but certain. "I always am."
She turned on her heel, striding toward the exit, the fire inside her burning hotter than ever.
This was it.
The first real lead.
The first real chance.
Lyris moved through the palace corridors with purpose, the echo of her boots against the polished marble the only sound accompanying her thoughts. She had no time to waste—her preparations needed to be swift, her plans airtight. This was her chance, the moment she had been waiting for.
She turned a corner, heading toward the armory, when a familiar voice stopped her in her tracks.
"Lyris."
The soft yet firm call of her name froze her mid-step.
She turned, her sharp blue eyes meeting the worried gaze of her mother, Queen Seraphina.
Seraphina stood in the dim hallway, a vision of ethereal grace even in her simple robes. Long silver-white hair cascaded down her back in soft waves, untouched by time. Her pale blue eyes—so much like Lyris' own—held a storm of emotions, a silent plea hidden beneath their unwavering intensity.
"You're going, aren't you?" Seraphina asked, though it was not a question.
Lyris squared her shoulders. "Yes."
The queen's lips pressed together, a hint of sadness flashing across her face. She stepped closer, raising a hand to cup Lyris' cheek, but stopped just before touching her, hesitating.
"You've been restless for months," Seraphina said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Pushing yourself beyond your limits. You hardly sleep, hardly eat. And now you wish to march into an unknown war, chasing after rumors?"
Lyris inhaled sharply, forcing herself to stay composed. "It's not just a rumor. I have to see for myself."
Seraphina's brows furrowed, her hand falling to her side. "I know what this is truly about."
Lyris' jaw tightened. "Do you?"
Her mother sighed, stepping back slightly, folding her arms as if bracing herself. "It's him, isn't it? Evolis."
Lyris didn't answer immediately.
Seraphina took her silence as confirmation.
"Oh, my dear girl…" She exhaled, rubbing her temples. "I feared as much."
Lyris clenched her fists. "You don't understand. If there's even the slightest chance that he's alive, I have to find him. I have to—"
"You have to what, Lyris?" Seraphina cut in, her tone firmer than before. "Risk your life? March into a war that is not ours? Face enemies we do not even fully understand? And for what? A chance? A possibility?"
Lyris swallowed, but her resolve did not waver. "I won't sit here and do nothing. I won't—"
Seraphina's expression softened. "You're not doing nothing," she whispered. "You are our princess. You are the future of Aurelion. Do you not see how much you've already taken upon yourself? How much this weight has been crushing you?"
Lyris averted her gaze. She didn't need to hear this now. Not when she was so close.
Seraphina's voice wavered, but her words remained strong. "Lyris, my love… please. Slow down. Think this through."
Lyris forced herself to look at her mother, at the raw concern in her eyes, and for a moment... just a moment, doubt threatened to creep in.
But then she remembered.
The sleepless nights.The endless searching.The ache in her chest whenever she thought of Evolis alone in some unknown land, fighting, surviving, waiting.
She had to do this.
"Mother," Lyris said, her voice softer but firm. "I love you. And I know you worry for me. But I can't stay here. I can't ignore this."
Seraphina's lips parted as if to say more, but the words never came.
Lyris stepped forward, gently taking her mother's hand and squeezing it. "I will return," she promised. "But I have to go."
Seraphina stared at her daughter, a mix of pain and understanding flashing in her gaze.
She had always known Lyris was different. Stronger, more determined. So much like her father, yet carrying a fire all her own.
After a long silence, Seraphina exhaled and closed her eyes briefly, gathering herself. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet but resigned.
"Then promise me one thing."
Lyris nodded, waiting.
"Promise me that when the time comes, you will not throw away your life for someone who has already chosen his path."
Lyris stiffened, something sharp cutting through her chest. But she did not let it show.
"I promise," she said, though she wasn't sure if it was the truth.
Seraphina gave her a long, searching look before finally, reluctantly, stepping aside.
Lyris took one last glance at her mother, memorizing the gentle lines of her face, the way the candlelight flickered against her silver hair, before turning and walking away.
She did not look back.
And Seraphina, for all her wisdom, did not stop her.
Because she knew.
Lyris had already made her choice.