Kaelen barely remembered the last time he had rested properly. The weight of his mission, his worries for Solenara, and the ever-present sense of being watched had worn him thin. But tonight, exhaustion finally claimed him. His head barely touched the pillow before sleep pulled him under.
The dream was vivid. Solenara stood in the heart of her garden, bathed in silver moonlight. Her golden hair shimmered like liquid sunlight, and in her hands, she cradled a sunflower—their sunflower. Kaelen was there, drawn to her as if pulled by an unseen force. The air smelled of jasmine and rain-kissed earth. She turned to him, eyes warm with something deeper than affection. He reached for her, and she didn't pull away. Instead, she closed the distance between them, her hands pressing lightly against his chest.
"I will always find my way back to you," she murmured, voice tinged with a sadness he didn't understand.
Kaelen leaned in. Their lips met, the world spinning around them in a dance of golden petals and firelight—
A sharp crash.
Kaelen jolted awake, his heart hammering against his ribs. His breath came in shallow gasps as he scanned his darkened room. Something had shattered. The hairs on his arms stood on end. His eyes adjusted slowly, and there, on the floor by his bedside table, lay the broken remains of a carefully crafted glass vase.
The sunflower within had been crushed, its golden petals scattered among the shards. A thin trail of blood led toward the door.
Kaelen's pulse quickened. He pushed himself upright, the dream still clinging to him like mist, and rushed to the threshold. The corridor beyond was empty, save for the faint smears of blood marking a path down the dimly lit hall. He followed, every sense alert. The silence pressed in on him, unnatural and thick.
Something felt off.
Each step carried him deeper into unease. He should have caught up to whoever had left the blood trail by now. Instead, he found himself seemingly walking in circles. Every door he opened revealed the same room, albeit with the subtlest shifts—a chair slightly askew, a candle flickering where there had been none before, a different time of day beyond the windows. He didn't recall how many chambers he'd opened and walked into, examining each shelf, each lamp, each fur. But when he had opened every door in the expansive castle, each leading into an identical chamber, a chill, unrelated to the cold, ran down his spine, .
Was he still dreaming?
"Maybe, maybe not." A twinkling voice answered.
Did he say that out loud?
A light laugh sounded, echoing across the now dim halls. No, wait, they were brightly lit. Kaelen blinked once more, feeling as though he could trust neither his mind, nor his eye. Now, his ears seemed quite out of order as well.
Frustration built in his chest, coiling tight. He spun on his heel, opening doors at random, only to find the same space repeating endlessly. The air became charged, the walls closing in. With a growl, Kaelen slammed a door open and bellowed, "Enough! Show yourself, coward!" He sank to his knees. "Give me something, show me anything, please." He choked out the last word, instinctively reaching for his sword at his side, which was, naturally absent, as was most of his normal attire.
The castle answered.
Doors and windows blew open with a fury that sent objects clattering. Rain poured through one opening while another revealed a blistering sun. A third showed a moonlit sky, stars swirling unnaturally. Wind howled, carrying whispers in a language he didn't understand. The clash of elements assaulted his senses—hail, fire, mist rolling in like ghostly fingers. The chaos was overwhelming, disorienting.
His breath came ragged. He forced himself to close his eyes, steadying against the madness. Think. He needed to think.
His mind sharpened. Every loop he had walked should have led back to his room. But now…he couldn't see it. He reached for the door he knew should take him back, but an invisible wall stopped him cold.
Trapped.
—
Meanwhile, Solenara sat at her writing desk, staring at the parchment in front of her. Her entourage had never quite made it to Halvryn's lands. Maids, guards, familiar faces—all gone. Some sent away upon arrival, others vanished without a trace. But the most important one of them all, Kaelen, was missing, and with him, her last semblance of stability.
She dipped the quill in ink, hands trembling slightly. The letter was brief, direct:
**Father, I request additional attendants at once. I fear something is amiss.**
She folded the parchment, intentionally sealing it with her family crest. When she handed it to a courier, she whispered, "Deliver this personally."
She never saw it leave the palace. She hadn't quite trusted it to, but it was better to try rather than not. Afterall, she couldn't be a sitting duck.
Halvryn sat in his chamber later that night, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows as he ran a thumb over the broken seal. A smirk curled his lips as he read aloud, his voice dripping with amusement.
"Oh, Nara… you're more perceptive than I expected."
"But I am always," he watched as the letter burned, the edges curling to ash between his fingers, "two steps ahead, darling."
—
Solenara sought refuge in the clearing. The one place that still felt most real, untouched by the ever-tightening grip of Halvryn's domain, ironically. Here, the air was crisp, the grass cool beneath her fingers. She traced the delicate petals of her favorite golden-lined flower, its soft glow reassuring.
When she lay back, her hair fanning about her, her nightgown bringing in the chill, the stars above seemed to hum—a familiar melody at the edge of her memory.
Her dreams were different now.
Tonight, she stood in a grove far older than any she had known, vines coiling at her feet, weaving over her hands. She looked down to see them snaking across her skin, etching delicate patterns of leaves and flowers into her arms. A voice whispered in the wind, achingly familiar. A hand entwined with hers, and she looked down, her eyes trailing up, but the face she dreamed of was always clear… until she woke.
But now, even in waking, the marks remained. Faint impressions of winding vines curled over her palms, and Solenara stared at them in the light of the dawn. Turning her hands over and over in the sunlight, she tried scrubbing them off at the river, but it simply reddened her fair hands.
Something was changing.
Something was awakening.