The great doors of the courtroom creaked shut behind them, sealing in the whispers and the heavy weight of what had just unfolded. Xandria stepped into the corridor beside Maltherion, her steps measured, the soft swish of her silver gown echoing in the high-ceilinged hallway like the quiet victory of thunder after a storm.
She didn't need to look around to know the eyes of the castle were on her. Servants along the wall bowed low, their gazes to the floor. The guards stood straighter than usual. Even the tapestries that lined the stone walls seemed to rustle with new reverence.
She had spoken her mind - and the court had listened.
Or perhaps they had simply learned to fear what it means to cross the Queen.
Maltherion walked beside her in silence. The weight of his presence - solid, dark, and sharp-edged - wrapped around her like armor. He hadn't scolded her. Hadn't silenced her. No, he had stood beside her, wielding her voice like a blade. For once, Xandria felt more than just a little girl. She felt like fire.
"You held your ground," Maltherion murmured beside her, his tone unreadable.
Xandria kept her gaze ahead. "Did you think I wouldn't?"
A rare curve touched the corner of his mouth. "No. I wanted them to see it."
She didn't reply. Instead, she let the weight of her words settle in the quiet. The corridor stretched long and regal, it's walls lined with ornate mirrors in gilded frames. Torches flickered beneath them, casting waves of golden light that danced along the polished stone floor.
But then - she felt it.
It was faint at first. A brush of something cold across the back of her neck, like the sensation of being watched too closely. Her steps slowed.
She turned towards one of the mirrors in the hallways.
And she froze.
There, reflected not three paces behind her, was the face of Anaya - the quiet, unassuming maid who ahd served her faithfully since she had entered into the palace. But something was wrong.
The figure in the mirror didn't match what her eyes told her was there.
In the reflection, Anaya's face had changed. Her soft round features were replaced by sharp cheekbones and glowing amber eyes that burned like twin embers. Her lips curled in a slow knowing smirk, her simple uniform shimmered, morphing in the mirror into a gown of deep crimson and gold, the hem licking the floor like flame. Her raven-black hair unraveled, flowing wild and long, the ends forming like smoke.
Xandria's breath caught in her throat.
It wasn't Anaya.
It was her.
Zendriya.
The name echoed in her mind like a whisper from her dreams - dreams she had tried to forget.
She blinked once, then twice. In the space of a heartbeat, the reflection changed. Anaya was back. Plain. Innocent. She walked past them a moment later, heads bowed, arms full of linens, eyes lowered in respectful silence.
But Xandria was staring at the mirror.
Even after Anaya had passed, the reflection lingered. Zendriya's smirk was still there, holding her gaze. It was only for a second - but long enough.
Long enough for the word to sear itself into her skull.
Soon.
A chill raced down her spine.
She felt Maltherion step closer, his presence like a shield wrapping around her. "What is it?"
She tore her gaze from the mirror and turned to him, her voice low and tight. "That mirror. I saw her. Anaya. But not Anaya. She changed. "
Maltherion looked through the glass,but whatever Xandria had seen was gone. The mirror reflected only their tense expressions.
"I've seen her before," she whispered. "Not in waking. In dreams. Always the same - those eyes. That fire. She called herself Zendriya.
His brows furrowed, and for the first time since the courtroom, Xandria saw unease flicker through his stoic mask.
"You've dreamt of her?" He asked.
She nodded. "Not just her. Elara too. She was meeting with her in the forest. They spoke of prophesy. Of bringing down the king. Zendriya called Elara her herald."
Maltherion's jaw clenched. He turned to face her fully now, shadows curling behind his eyes.
"The dragon prophesy," he said darkly.
Xandria's stomach sank. "You know it?"
"It was whispered to the first king of Alderyn," he replied. " A dragon- blooded woman, born of fire and vengeance, destined to end the bloodline of flames. To burn the legacy of Alderyn to ash."
" And you carry the legacy," she said softly.
His silence was confirmation.
Xandria's heart pounded. "Then she's here for you."
"No," he said coldly. "She's here for all of it. The kingdom. The throne. The world we've built."
He stepped towards the mirror again, his hand hovering inches from it's surface. The torches flickered. For a moment, Xandria thought she saw something - an ember glowing faintly in the glass. But it was gone before she could even speak.
She swallowed hard. "She's not just in my dreams. She's here. Hiding. Watching."
" And your sister brought her into my house," he said, low and dangerous.
Xandria didn't deny it.
Maltherion straightened, his voice suddenly sharp. "Double the guards on the west wing. No one speaks to Anaya unless I say so. Find Captain Reagan."
A guard snapped to attention and vanished through the corridor.
"Maltherion," she said, her voice tight with something she couldn't name.
He turned back to her.
"We may already be too late," she whispered.
And behind them, in the mirror they'd left behind, the flames danced again - quiet and waiting.
As they both entered the royal chambers, Xandria quickly shut the door and locked it with the key.
She could not stop this uneasy feeling that bloomed in her mind.
She paced the room trying to think of a solution to this problem.
"What I can't still understand is how Elara got involved with the witches?" Xandria finally sat down beside Maltherion on the bed.
Maltherion was silent at first. He hadn't uttered a word since they stepped into the room.
" Have you always lived with Elara?" He finally spoke. His voice heavy and his tone unreadable.
"Yes. Right from when we were little... " Xandria suddenly stopped. Like she remembered something.
Maltherion looked at her and his expression darkened. " What happened?"
" I can't really remember. But there was a time when Elara fell ill. The memory seems faint,but what I remember is that I had to stop training because she was ill. That was when I was fifteen. My parents took her somewhere but she did not return with them. When I asked where she was, they told me she was with the physician in the village clinic. All the memories around that period seems to be foggy in my memory. Why I can remember most of this is because I dreamt about it."
" Your memories were altered. "
" But how?" She asked, staring at him.
" We are going to find out " Maltherion said, standing up.
" Where are you going?" She asked, quickly standing up to follow him.
" I have some questions to ask your parents. It's a good thing they are still in the palace."
Maltherion said, opening the door and stepping out of the room with Xandria right behind him.