The halls of the Thalor estate stretched endlessly, their polished marble floors gleaming in the light that poured through towering windows. Elysia walked quietly, her fingers brushing against the smooth, cold stone of the walls. Though she had spent her entire life within these corridors, she realized now how little she truly knew about them.
The Shadow Wing, as Isolde had called it, sat in the eastern corner of the estate, hidden behind heavy iron doors that were always locked. It was a forbidden place, ignored by servants and carefully avoided by her parents. Yet now, it beckoned to her like an unanswered question, gnawing at her thoughts and pulling her forward.
She paused as she reached the end of the hall, glancing over her shoulder to ensure no one was following her. It was early enough in the morning that the estate was still quiet, the servants busy with their daily chores elsewhere. The King and Queen were occupied in the grand library, leaving the east wing shrouded in silence and secrecy.
Elysia took a deep breath and pressed forward, her footsteps soft against the marble. Her mind raced with the possibilities of what she might find. Were her parents hiding something dangerous? Something magical? Or was it simply another layer of the lies they had built around her life?
She stopped in front of the iron doors, her heart pounding. The doors were tall and imposing, their surface covered in intricate carvings that seemed to shift in the dim light. She ran her fingers over the patterns, trying to decipher their meaning, but they revealed nothing.
Her hand lingered on the handle. The doors wouldn't open without a key, and Elysia didn't have one. She stood there for a moment, frustration bubbling within her, until she heard faint voices echoing down the hall behind her.
She stiffened and quickly turned away from the door, retreating into the shadows of a nearby alcove. The voices grew closer, and she recognized them immediately. They belonged to Lady Arwell, one of her mother's closest confidantes, and Master Bram, her father's advisor.
"...It is unwise to speak of this where others might overhear," Bram's voice murmured.
"Who would dare overhear us here?" Lady Arwell countered, her tone sharp. "We are alone."
Elysia pressed herself against the cold stone wall, her breath shallow. She shouldn't be listening, she knew, but something told her that this conversation held answers she couldn't afford to miss.
"The King and Queen have made their decision," Bram continued. "The boy must never return to Eryndor. The risk is too great."
Elysia's heart froze. The boy. Could they mean Elric? She leaned closer, straining to hear every word.
"And yet they allow the princess to remain here," Lady Arwell replied, her tone sharp. "She has the same bloodline, the same connection to the prophecy. If the court knew of her existence, there would be questions demands for action."
"The princess is different," Bram countered, his voice firm and cold. "Her presence has been carefully controlled. She poses no threat."
Elysia felt her chest tighten at the words, her heart hammering against her ribs. Carefully controlled. No threat. The phrases echoed in her mind, each syllable laced with the sting of betrayal. She had long suspected that her parents hid her away for their own reasons, but hearing her existence framed in such calculating terms brought a wave of fury bubbling to the surface.
Lady Arwell continued, her voice softer now, as though hesitant to speak too openly. "And the east wing? The servants have always whispered of strange happenings there. Are you certain it poses no risk?"
Bram let out a heavy sigh. "The wing is sealed. Nothing will escape as long as the doors remain locked. The King and Queen have ensured it."
Escape? Elysia's breath hitched at the word. What could they be keeping locked away in the east wing? Her visions? Her brother? The possibility of answers filled her mind, an insistent hum that refused to quiet.
Lady Arwell's voice grew distant as the pair walked away, their footsteps echoing down another corridor. Elysia remained frozen in place, her body pressed tightly against the cool stone wall. Questions clawed at her thoughts, but she didn't dare follow. If she was caught eavesdropping on her parents' most trusted advisors, the consequences would be severe.
Finally, the silence returned. Elysia stepped out of the shadows, her gaze lingering on the iron doors once more. She would uncover the truth whatever it took.
Hours later, Elysia found herself back in the gardens, her mind still consumed by the conversation she had overheard. Isolde sat beside her, a tray of tea and pastries perched carefully between them, though neither seemed interested in eating.
"You look troubled, my lady," Isolde said quietly, her eyes filled with concern.
"I am," Elysia admitted. "I heard something this morning something about the east wing."
Isolde stiffened. "What did you hear?"
"That the King and Queen are hiding something behind those doors," Elysia said, lowering her voice. "That there's something inside they don't want to escape."
Isolde's face paled, her hands trembling slightly. "I warned you not to get involved, my lady. Whatever is behind those doors...it's not meant for you to know."
Elysia frowned, her anger flaring once again. "And why shouldn't I know? It's tied to the prophecy, isn't it? To my brother to me. It's my right to understand."
"Sometimes secrets are kept for a reason," Isolde said softly. "They're meant to protect us."
"Or control us," Elysia muttered under her breath, her thoughts darkening. "I won't live in the shadows any longer, Isolde. If my parents won't give me answers, I'll find them myself."
Isolde sighed, her expression heavy with worry. "If you're truly set on this, then there's something you should know."
Elysia's heart quickened. "What?"
"There's another way into the east wing," Isolde admitted hesitantly. "A passage near the kitchens. It's old and unused, but it might lead you to what you're looking for."
Elysia nodded firmly. "Take me there."
The servant's passage was dark and narrow, its stone walls damp with condensation. Elysia gripped her candle tightly, the flickering light casting long shadows across the rough surface as she followed Isolde deeper into the corridor.
"This passage hasn't been used in years," Isolde explained, her voice low. "The King ordered it sealed after the whispers began. He didn't want anyone venturing too close to the east wing."
Elysia frowned. "Whispers?"
Isolde hesitated, then nodded. "Some say they hear voices from behind the doors. Others claim they've seen shadows moving where they shouldn't be. Whatever's there, it's...unnatural."
Elysia shivered, though she refused to let fear show on her face. She was determined to find the truth no matter what.
The passage twisted and turned, its path descending deeper into the estate's foundations. Elysia moved cautiously, her candlelight barely illuminating the darkness ahead. Each step brought her closer to the truth, but also closer to the unknown.
At last, the passage opened into a small chamber, its walls lined with shelves of old, forgotten artifacts. In the center stood a pedestal, its surface covered in dust and strange carvings. A faint light seemed to pulse from within, casting a soft glow across the room.
Elysia approached the pedestal slowly, her hand trembling as she reached out to touch the carvings. The moment her fingers brushed the surface, the air around her shifted. A sudden rush of cold swept through the chamber, and her vision blurred.
She stumbled back, clutching her head as whispers filled her ears. They were clearer now, louder, and unmistakably calling her name.
"Elysia."
The whispers continued to call her name, weaving through the chamber like threads of icy wind. Elysia dropped her candle, the flame extinguishing as it hit the damp ground. She staggered, pressing her hands against her ears, but the sound only grew louder, vibrating through her entire body.
"Elysia," the voices whispered, overlapping and rising in intensity. The words were fragmented, shifting between languages she didn't recognize, but her name was always clear, cutting through the cacophony like a blade.
She opened her eyes, her vision still blurry from the rush of cold that had swept through the chamber. The faint glow from the pedestal pulsed steadily, casting flickering shadows on the walls. It was almost hypnotic, drawing her closer despite her instincts screaming for her to run.
Her trembling hand reached out again, this time resting fully on the surface of the pedestal. The carvings were intricate, their grooves cool to the touch, and as her fingers traced the patterns, the whispers began to fade. In their place came a single, booming voice deep and resonant, unlike anything she had heard before.
"Blood of the twin-born. Seeker of shadows. You cannot escape your destiny."
Elysia gasped, her head snapping back as the air around her seemed to ignite with energy. The carvings on the pedestal glowed brighter, their light pulsing in time with her racing heartbeat. A searing pain shot through her palm, and she jerked her hand away, cradling it against her chest.
When she looked down, her breath caught in her throat. A mark had appeared on her palm, a symbol etched into her skin as though burned there by the pedestal. It was a circle surrounded by jagged lines, the same symbol she had seen countless times in her visions.
The mark of prophecy.
Her mind reeled as she stumbled back from the pedestal, her back hitting the cold stone wall. She tried to steady her breathing, but the weight of what had just happened pressed down on her like a mountain. The mark was proof that her visions weren't just dreams they were real. And whatever was hidden behind the doors of the Shadow Wing was tied to her, to her brother, and to the destiny she had been shielded from her entire life.
The whispers returned, softer now, like a faint breeze brushing against her ears. They no longer called her name but instead spoke in riddles, fragments of a language she couldn't fully grasp. She clutched her marked hand to her chest, the pain subsiding but leaving behind a lingering warmth, as if the symbol was alive beneath her skin.
As she emerged from the passageway, the morning light seemed almost blinding after the oppressive darkness of the chamber. Isolde was waiting for her near the kitchens, her hands wringing anxiously as she paced back and forth. When she saw Elysia, her face filled with both relief and fear.
"My lady, what happened?" Isolde whispered, rushing forward. "You're pale as a ghost. Are you hurt?"
Elysia shook her head, though her voice trembled as she spoke. "I... I found something. A mark."
Isolde's eyes widened, her gaze dropping to Elysia's hand. "A mark? What kind of mark?"
Wordlessly, Elysia held out her palm, revealing the symbol burned into her skin. Isolde gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "The prophecy," she breathed. "It's true."
"I don't understand what it means," Elysia said, her voice cracking. "But it's connected to everything the whispers, the Shadow Wing, and Elric. I have to go back, Isolde. I have to find out what's behind those doors."
"My lady, no," Isolde said urgently, grabbing her arm. "This is dangerous. If the King and Queen discover what you've done..."
"I don't care," Elysia interrupted, her voice firm despite the tremor in her chest. "They've been lying to me my entire life. This mark... it's proof that I'm part of this prophecy. I need to know the truth about the Shadow Wing, about my brother, about everything."
Isolde hesitated, her expression torn. She glanced around to ensure they were alone before leaning in closer. "If you're determined to continue, then you'll need help. There's someone who might know more about the prophecy Sarin Torsai, the old scholar. He served your grandfather before the King took the throne. He knows things... dangerous things."
"Where can I find him?" Elysia asked, her heart quickening.
"He lives on the outskirts of the estate, in the old caretaker's cottage," Isolde whispered. "But be careful, my lady. If the King or Queen discover you've been speaking to him..."
"They won't," Elysia said firmly. "Thank you, Isolde. I'll be careful, I promise."
That night, as Elysia lay in her bed, staring up at the canopy above her, she couldn't shake the weight of the mark on her palm. She traced the symbol with her fingers, its presence both comforting and terrifying. The whispering voices still echoed faintly in her mind, a constant reminder of what she had uncovered.
Her journey was just beginning. The Shadow Wing held secrets she needed to uncover, but now there was another thread to follow Sarin Torsai and the prophecy he guarded.
As the first light of dawn broke through her window, Elysia rose from her bed, her resolve stronger than ever. The mark of prophecy had chosen her, and she wouldn't stop until she understood why.