I observe Zyar thoughtfully, my gaze drifting to the Astralis, which hovers calmly in the air as if our dire situation were nothing more than a distant dream.

  “Why does the Astralis belong to me?” I ask, hesitating to follow Zyar’s instructions. My words tumble out faster and faster: “All this information... it’s suffocating me! I can barely breathe! Who even am I? Why is this all happening now?”

  “Vespera, we don’t have time for these questions!” Zyar retorts, his voice stressed, his eyes darting nervously toward the thick fog. How powerful could these Nyrelis sisters be?

  But I refuse to be dismissed. “I won’t touch the Astralis until you answer at least one of my questions!” I hiss angrily, feeling a revolt stirring deep inside me. “My whole life, I’ve been ordered around! By the king, the queen, even my half-brother – who, if what you’re saying is true, isn’t even my half-brother! Who are my parents? Is Isilyn really my mother? I don’t know what to believe anymore!”

  Zyar sighs, both exhausted and resigned, before finally confessing, “The Astralis was entrusted to me 18 years ago by your mother. She must have been pregnant with you at the time. How she managed to travel to the human world without the Astralis remains a mystery to me even now. That’s all I know. Believe me, I’d love to know if Isilyn is still alive, too.”

  His words make me pause. Is he telling the truth? He knew about my mother’s diaries, her habit of keeping them. But the knowledge that I’ve spent my life surrounded by liars makes it impossible for me to trust him. Still… I know the danger posed by the Synnx.

  “As soon as you touch it, it will respond to you. After all, you are its rightful owner,” Zyar says firmly.

  I stare at the Astralis, both uncertain and fascinated. In the midst of this threatening situation, it floats so serenely that I almost envy it. My finger trembles as it inches toward the orb. And yet... there’s something inside me. Despite all the schemes, all the lies, my curiosity drives me to take the leap.

  The moment my finger brushes the smooth surface of the Astralis, it is suffused with an overwhelming light that seems to swallow me whole. I try to look to Zyar and Sylas for help, but they’re gone. A chaotic cacophony of sounds invades my ears, stabbing into my mind like needles. Desperately, I press my hands to my forehead and fall to my knees. It feels as though an invisible force is overwhelming me. A rising, agonizing roar fills my head, pulsing with pain as if it’s about to shatter. And then… suddenly… silence.

  Though the absence of noise feels liberating, I dare not open my eyes. The harmonious quiet is broken by the sound of a single droplet of water falling nearby. In the distance, I hear a familiar melody... a harp? I first heard it at the entrance to the Nexari! What could it mean? Why does that same melody play again?

  Slowly, I open my eyes, blinking, and take in my new surroundings. Instead of the abstract world of the Nexari, I now find myself in a forest that stretches endlessly to the horizon. At its heart lies a small pond, over which a branch extends – likely the source of the droplet. On the ground, a sea of black strands of hair fans out, their silky texture rippling in every direction. Above me stretches an infinitely vast night sky, reminding me of my time in the castle, where I often sat by the window dreaming of a moment like this – well, not exactly like this. I had imagined a place beyond the kingdom, not an in-between world filled with unknown dangers.

  Lost in thought, I follow the beautiful, silken strands of hair. In the distance, I see a woman playing a harp. Her posture is... almost unnatural. She sits with a straight back, her head tilted oddly to the side, her fingers gliding over the strings as if time here has no meaning. How long could her hair be? I know where it begins, but where, I wonder, does it end?

  As I take another step toward the strange woman, the melody stops. The golden strings of her harp reverberate softly as she removes her hands from the instrument. Now I see her up close. Half her face is hidden by an intricately adorned golden mask, mysterious and elegant. Her lips, a deep crimson, seem meticulously painted, as if she prepares daily for the act of playing her harp.

  Her black silk gown clings to her body like liquid shadow, the loose straps hanging casually off her shoulders. After ceasing her music, she turns her head toward me. Yet she cannot truly see me – the mask restricts her vision.

  “Master…,” she speaks, her voice soft and resonant, like an echo in an endless chamber. “You are not Master Isilyn.”

  “Astralis, aren’t you?” I ask, but she does not answer. Instead, her silent demeanor speaks volumes. “My name is Vespera...” I hesitate, feeling the weight of the moment. “...Entium. I am the daughter of Isilyn Entium.”

  “So the Master has made her choice,” she says at last, her posture exuding something akin to deep sorrow. She exhales softly, her voice seeming to emerge from all directions, as though the air itself speaks. “Master Vespera, my name is Aetherion. I am your guide through space and time.”

  “Forgive me,” I say quickly, a trace of embarrassment in my tone. “I thought you were the Astralis.”

  “The Astralis is the place you are standing in,” she explains with a serenity I cannot quite grasp. Her words make little sense, and yet each syllable feels laden with meaning.

  Is she like Zyar and Sylas? Does she belong to these beings? What exactly is the Astralis? And how long has Aetherion been here? Is she bound to this place?

  “Aetherion, I have so many questions,” I confess desperately, taking a step toward her. Yet I collide with an invisible barrier. “Strange…”

  I cannot move closer. Did she create this barrier? Does she wish to keep me away? Something about it feels wrong.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  “This world and this barrier, my Master…” Aetherion says, gazing into the night sky. Her fingers rest on the harp strings but produce no sound. “They exist to ensure I fulfill my purpose.”

  “What is your purpose?” I ask, a strange sense of pity for her rising within me. “Elindros is a mystery to me. And before I could enter this strange world, I encountered you. What does it all mean?”

  “Master Vespera…,” Aetherion begins, her lips barely moving as she turns her gaze back to me. “My purpose is to guide the chosen of Sonatius Mortaeda on their journey. Just as I now speak to you, I spoke to Eldralith Entium 500 years ago, the first vessel.”

  The first vessel? The name Entium feels like a whisper from centuries past. If Eldralith was the first vessel, she might be the origin of it all.

  “And my mother? Was she the vessel before me?” I ask, trying to organize the names in my mind. “You called me Master Isilyn.”

  Aetherion shows no visible reaction, but her words betray what her expression conceals. “Isilyn Entium was meant to become the ninth vessel. But you, Master Vespera, have taken her place.”

  Taken my mother’s place? Why? And who or what is this Sonatius Mortaeda?

  “Sonatius Mortaeda…” I whisper, the words of the Nyrelis-Sisters echoing in my mind. “What does this term mean?”

  “The Sonatius Mortaeda is an ancient being,” Aetherion explains calmly, her voice steady. “Five hundred years ago, Eldralith Entium became its first vessel to protect Elindros. Since then, descendants from the realm of Losnat have been chosen to take their place.”

  “And for what purpose?” I ask, confusion etched across my face.

  “Your task, Master Vespera, is to serve as the vessel of the Sonatius Mortaeda,” Aetherion reveals, leaving me bewildered. How can that be a task? “To protect Elindros from the Elindine—those who seek to wield its power for great harm.”

  “But how am I supposed to carry such a being within me?” I ask, glancing at my body, which suddenly feels fragile. “How could my body endure such a thing?”

  “All descendants of Eldralith Entium possess the physical attributes to fulfill this task,” she explains with cold precision. But then her tone softens slightly. “Yet your journey is different, Master. For you… are not a descendant of Eldralith.”

  I am not a descendant of Eldralith Entium… but my mother is. What does that mean for me?

  “What is the significance of being a descendant of the first vessel?” I ask, my voice a mix of curiosity and underlying fear for what lies ahead.

  “Your presence here defies… everything,” Aetherion states with an almost unshakable calm that contrasts starkly with my own turbulent emotions. Her tone suggests indifference, yet her words carry weight. “You are a paradox in this line of descendants. All others are reincarnations of Eldralith Entium—you, however, are not.”

  “And what happens when I encounter this Sonatius Mortaeda?” I ask, feeling my fear growing uncontrollably. My heart tightens painfully.

  Aetherion runs her fingers over the harp strings, and a gentle sound fills the forest, barely more than a whisper. Yet she does not truly play. Instead, she seems to be preparing for something. “I will guide you on your path, Master. I know the future that lies before you, but I must not interfere with it. This journey will shape you into someone you may never have wished to become… or someone who is exactly what you’ve always sought to be.”

  “If you know my destiny and my future…,” I begin, desperately searching for a way to circumvent the rules, “...can you not at least help me with my choices?”

  “That would violate my directives,” Aetherion responds without the slightest emotion. “Master Vespera, you must walk this path alone and make your own decisions. I will accompany you, but I cannot intervene.”

  Her words leave a hollow ache within me. Aetherion sees the light at the end of the tunnel, yet she leaves me in darkness. Who gave her this task remains a mystery, but I am certain it is tied to Losnat—a place inexplicably connected to me.

  “So you know my end but cannot show me the way?” I ask, both confused and slightly frustrated. “Shouldn’t you, as my guide through space and time, ensure that I choose the right path?”

  “How your journey will end, Master...,” Aetherion says with a voice as unyielding as fate itself. “...lies solely in your hands. No one may influence your decisions. Yet I believe that you – like the chosen before you – will fulfill your destiny.”

  “My destiny?” I repeat, her words circling in my mind like a distant echo. “What is that?”

  “The balance of Elindros,” she explains, and her words carry an undeniable authority. “The chosen of the Astralis have always been the rightful rulers. So too, will you be, Master Vespera. I will be by your side to accompany you on this journey – and even in the deepest darkness, I will illuminate your path.”

  “And what comes next, Aetherion?” My voice is a fragile bond of curiosity and fear.

  “Where fate leads you will be determined solely by your choices,” she repeats with calm seriousness. “But now, you must return. From now on, I will watch over you, my Master.”

  “When will we meet again?” I ask, scarcely able to hide my longing for answers about Elindros.

  Aetherion hesitates before responding with cold resolve: “When all is over, Master.”

  My time in this place is drawing to a close. Aetherion will bring me back to Zyar and Sylas. For one last time, I let my gaze sweep across this breathtaking forest, which seems to be the pure embodiment of tranquility and balance. The black strands of Aetherion’s hair, stretching like a delicate web over the grass and deep into the heart of the forest, are impossible to ignore. Back in the Nexari, I will have to ask Zyar about this – and hope that he has an answer.

  But despite the beauty of this forest, despite the peace it radiates, I cannot shake the feeling that something… is missing here.

  “It’s rather lonely here…” I voice my thoughts aloud as my gaze moves over the vast, empty landscape. No sound except the gentle rustle of the wind. This time, Aetherion responds with a slight tilt of her head. “If you have been here for 500 years and have encountered no one except the masters before me – do you not feel loneliness?”

  “Loneliness?” she repeats, a questioning tone in her voice. “What does that mean, Master Vespera?”

  I stare at her in disbelief. She doesn’t know this feeling? The one that has haunted me my entire life? But... Aetherion is just as trapped in a golden cage as I am! She, too, has served unwillingly all these years, just as I served the queen. Why doesn’t she understand me?

  “Loneliness…” I begin cautiously, “...is when you should normally be surrounded by other beings – beings like you – yet no one is there.” I pause before quietly adding, “I have spent my entire life behind closed doors. I never had contact with anyone my age.”

  “There is only one of my kind, Master,” she explains, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “There is only me. Loneliness may be something painful in your eyes, but for my existence, it has no meaning.”

  “But…” I try to argue. Something inside me is searching for proof that she can feel something. That she is not as untouchable as she seems.

  Before I can continue, her fingers begin to move. They no longer rest motionless on the strings but make them sing. The melody that emerges is of such otherworldly beauty that the world around me begins to fade. My time has come.

  As the figure of this wondrous woman, playing her harp with such grace, becomes increasingly indistinct, I hear her sing. Her voice is clear, but it grows softer and softer as I distance myself.

  The image of Aetherion vanishes, but the melody remains in my heart.

  In the dark of night, by moonlight’s gleam,

  Through forests roams the wild wolf alone.

  His eyes are sharp, his heart aglow,

  A solitary cry breaks the stillness below.