The Forbidden Court had a strange rhythm, a quiet pulse of defiance that seemed to echo in the heavy air. Elysia sat on the edge of an ancient stone fountain at the court's center, its cracked surface overgrown with faintly glowing moss. Her silver-white hair cascaded in soft waves over her shoulders, catching the faint torchlight and glinting like threads of moonlight. Her celestial-blue eyes, steady and thoughtful, were fixed on the water in the fountain's basin, which shimmered faintly like a mirror to unknown realms. Even amid the chaos that had come to define her existence, Elysia carried herself with an understated strength. She wasn't the type to crumble under pressure, her stubborn will had always been a cornerstone of her character. Though her features were delicate, her angular jawline and defined cheekbones lent her a quiet, almost regal air. She was the kind of beauty that turned heads not because she sought to, but because there was something undeniably striking about her presence, a simmering grace wrapped in a layer of unyielding determination. Draven's voice pulled her out of her thoughts. "The Celestial Court," he began, leaning against one of the stone pillars that framed the courtyard. "It was the sixth court, once a beacon of balance in the supernatural hierarchy. But it wasn't just powerful, it was feared. Too feared." He folded his arms, his crimson gaze sharp as it fixed on hers. Elysia tilted her chin upward, holding his gaze without flinching. "And because of that, it was destroyed," she said, her tone steady, as though stating an undeniable truth. "But why? What happened?" Draven stepped closer, his shadowborn energy darkening the space around him. "The other courts believed the Celestial Court's magic was too dangerous, too uncontrollable. They were right, your kind could manipulate time, light, dreams, astral realms… powers no other court could replicate. That kind of magic made them a threat. It didn't take long for alliances to form, for old grudges to resurface, and for the war to begin." Elysia's eyes narrowed. "A war against my people. And now they want me, the 'lost heir,' to finish what they couldn't destroy?" Draven's lips curved into something resembling a smile, though it lacked humor. "They don't want you to 'finish' anything. They want your power. They'll twist it, control it, weaponize it, anything to maintain their fragile balance of power." She exhaled slowly, leaning back against the fountain's edge, her celestial-blue eyes thoughtful but not fearful. "And what about my family?" she asked quietly. "What happened to them?" Draven hesitated, the weight of her question evident in his expression. "Most of your court was annihilated. But some survived—scattered, hunted, hidden away. Your father, Ephraim Vale, was one of them. Presumed dead, but…" He shrugged, his crimson eyes betraying the uncertainty of his own words. "There are whispers—rumors, really. If he's alive, he may know the truth about why your court fell. Why they turned on your family." Elysia's grip tightened on the ancient book in her lap, its weathered cover faintly glowing as if responding to her determination. "And my mother?" she asked, her voice softer now, the vulnerability buried beneath layers of resolve. Draven's gaze softened slightly. "She warned you," he said simply. "Before the fall. Before the war. That much we know." The words stirred something deep within Elysia, something buried, yet unrelenting. A series of images flashed through her mind: fleeting glimpses of a time she couldn't fully remember. Her father's voice, strong and resolute, calling her name. Her mother's face, pale and beautiful, shadowed with an expression of urgency. A warning, spoken in hushed tones, but the words dissolved before she could grasp them. Her pulse quickened as the flashes grew stronger, more vivid. She could hear the crackle of distant flames, feel the heat of impending destruction, and sense the undeniable pull of a destiny she was only beginning to understand. The visions overwhelmed her for a moment, but she didn't falter. Even as her breath came unevenly, her eyes remained steady. Draven studied her with quiet intensity, as though trying to decipher the emotions swirling behind her composed exterior. "You're remembering, aren't you?" he asked. Elysia nodded slowly, her celestial-blue eyes meeting his crimson gaze. "Fragments," she said. "Pieces of a life I didn't know I had. I need to know more." Draven tilted his head, his dark hair falling across his face. "You'll get your answers," he promised. "But the courts won't give you the time to figure it out. They're stirring, Elysia. The Fae Court won't sit idle for long, and neither will the others."
His words proved prophetic.
At that very moment, in the distant halls of the Fae Enclave, a city that shifted between dimensions and sparkled with deceptive beauty, Queen Elira Faelan was deep in discussion with her advisors. Her golden hair fell like silk down her back, her violet eyes glimmering with intelligence and guile. "He is protecting her," Elira said smoothly, her voice carrying the musical lilt of riddles and lies. "Draven Nightbane, the foolish hybrid prince, shelters the Celestial heir. But his protection will not last." One of her advisors, cloaked in elegant yet dangerous armor, nodded solemnly. "And what would you have us do, Your Grace?" Elira smiled—a slow, dangerous curve of her lips. "Send Kaelen," she said simply. "My son will investigate. Let him see this Elysia Vale for himself. And when the time is right…" Her violet eyes shifted into reptilian slits, the lie in her tone sharper than ever. "We will act."
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Back in the Forbidden Court, Elysia rose to her feet, her silver-white hair glinting in the torchlight. She held herself with quiet authority, her celestial-blue eyes steady and determined. "If the courts are stirring," she said firmly, "then I'll be ready. I won't let them control me." Draven's lips twitched into something resembling a smirk. "You're braver than I expected," he said, his tone carrying a hint of admiration. "Good. You'll need that if you're going to survive."
Azriel Kane and Cassian Drayke, who had been listening from the shadows, exchanged a glance. The Reaper's piercing silver eyes betrayed no emotion, but the mercenary's scarred face was lit by his roguish grin. "Looks like the Celestial heir has some fire in her after all," Cassian remarked with mock amusement. "I like her already." Elysia shot him a sharp look, the corners of her lips twitching upward ever so slightly. "Don't mistake my determination for naivety," she warned. "I'm not here to play games." Cassian chuckled softly, his grin widening. "Fair enough, love." Azriel stepped forward, his silver eyes fixed on Elysia. "You have a long road ahead of you," he said quietly. "The courts won't stop, and the prophecy won't fade. But if anyone can challenge them, it's you." Elysia nodded, her celestial-blue eyes gleaming with resolve. "Then let's begin."
The fire in the brazier crackled loudly, sending sparks into the air, a silent acknowledgment of the decision she had made. The Forbidden Court watched silently as the lost heir stepped forward, ready to face the storm that was coming.