chapter 6: Journey to the East
The morning sun filtered softly through the silken drapes of Elena's chamber. A cool breeze danced in through the open windows, stirring the lavender-scented air and the edges of the parchment left on her desk the night before. She stirred beneath the fine blankets, eyes fluttering open slowly, mind already calculating the day ahead. Today, she would leave the capital—and with it, all the suffocating eyes and whispers of court—for the East.
Her maids, prompt and silent, entered with graceful efficiency. They helped her dress in travel attire—elegant but practical. A sapphire-toned riding gown embroidered with subtle silver threads hugged her form, paired with soft leather boots and gloves.
As they brushed and braided her hair, Elena gazed at her reflection. Her eyes were clear, sharp with purpose, yet there was a quiet heaviness hidden beneath them. The memory of last night's dance lingered—Dragonguard's intense gaze, the pull of aura synchronization, the sudden glimpse of a future long past. Shaking the thoughts away, she rose and made her way toward the throne room.
The grand halls of the palace echoed with faint sounds of life—servants whispering, armored knights exchanging curt nods. The air was fresher today, with a faint hint of rain in the wind. Yet when she reached the throne room, it was not the emperor she found seated on the high dais, but Marcus.
He stood near the steps, arms crossed and sword sheathed. At her approach, he turned, offering her a grim nod.
"The Emperor is... incapacitated," he said with a heavy sigh. "Drunk beyond measure."
Elena's lips twitched, part amused, part unsurprised. "Then I shall inform you in his stead, Marcus. I intend to travel east, immediately."
He arched a brow. "Shall I prepare an escort?"
"Only Bernard," she replied smoothly. "And a squad of knights of his choosing."
Without hesitation, Marcus called for a page and had Bernard summoned. Within moments, the towering knight arrived, fully armed, a steady presence beside her.
As they turned to leave, Elena's path was unfortunately blocked by two familiar figures gliding down the corridor—her elder sisters, Loralia and Shaella. The former was regal, tall, and draped in crimson silk. The latter walked beside her in darker hues, her steps quieter, her eyes sharp and secretive.
Neither spared Elena a greeting. They passed by with thin-lipped smiles meant only for appearances.
Elena didn't acknowledge them either, but her thoughts stirred.
Loralia, now twenty-seven, will soon destroy an entire kingdom. Married to King Gilbert of Flantra, a Rank 10 Mythic, she would later orchestrate a dark sacrifice to seize control. The result: a monstrous invasion that would ravage the land.
Shaella, twenty-six, hides darker secrets. Obsessed with forbidden magics, she conducts experiments with monster parts, building chimeras in a hidden lab beneath the Empire. In a few years, they would be unleashed upon the realm.
She exhaled quietly, pushing past those thoughts. The weight of future knowledge was heavier than armor.
Before she reached her carriage, a deep rumble shook the very stones of the courtyard.
All eyes turned skyward.
High above, the clouds parted.
Valdora descended.
The Storm Dragon, scales shimmering like molten silver and lightning, hovered with terrifying grace. His wings beat with a sound like rolling thunder, and as he alighted gently on the upper courtyard terrace, nobles, guards, and servants alike knelt or staggered back in awe.
Atop him sat Dragonguard.
He dismounted fluidly, aura pulsing with controlled might. For a long moment, he stood there, a silhouette of pure authority framed against the sky. Then, as though guided by an unseen thought, his eyes locked onto Elena.
She stood by her carriage, heart oddly still.
His gaze lingered. It was not threatening, nor inviting—but it pierced. As if he were reading her soul, weighing truths she hadn't spoken. Her breath caught.
One minute passed.
Without a word, Dragonguard turned. He leapt upon Valdora, and with a mighty beat of wings, the dragon rose.
They vanished into the clouds like a storm returning to slumber.
Elena stared after him long after the sky stilled.
He remembers something, she hoped.
The carriage door opened. Bernard mounted his steed, a hand-picked squad of disciplined knights flanking them on both sides. The road to the East was long, but her heart was steady. The wheels turned, and they left the capital behind.
The countryside unfolded like a painted tapestry. Rolling hills blanketed with golden wheat rustled in the morning wind. Clusters of wildflowers dotted the sides of the road—violets, starblossoms, and crimson sage. Farmers worked the land with patience, waving as the royal carriage passed. Children stared in awe at the sight of armored knights, some even running beside the horses for a while before falling back, laughing.
They passed glistening brooks that cut through meadows, bridges worn by time, and shepherds leading flocks along ancient stone paths. The distant chime of church bells sometimes echoed across valleys. Once, Elena saw a circle of druids dancing in harmony near a ring of stones, their movements fluid and otherworldly.
Forests came and went—ancient groves with trees older than the Empire itself. Birds chirped overhead, and once, a herd of stag deer leapt across a distant ridge, their antlers catching the sun like polished silver.
Bernard rode beside the carriage silently, always alert. He noticed every shift in the wind, every distant shadow. Elena occasionally opened the curtain to take in the view, but her thoughts were focused.
The calm was deceptive. In the East, the soil itself trembled with tension.
Three days later, they arrived at the estate of Duke Roseviver.
The estate, nestled at the edge of the Glimmering Wood, was a sprawling complex of marble towers and jade-colored roofs. Vines hung from high balconies, and massive tree roots intertwined with the architecture in harmony. Birds sang from above, and the air smelled of fresh bark and earth.
The Duke himself stood outside to greet them, tall and clad in green and brown robes woven from natural fibers. His staff, tipped with a live root still sprouting leaves, was held in his left hand.
His expression was calm, but his eyes betrayed his curiosity—and perhaps worry.
"Princess Elena," he said, bowing slightly. "Your letter has stirred the old spirits."
She descended from the carriage gracefully. "I hope I haven't caused too much alarm."
"When a Evergreen writes about the Runebark Tree, it is never without purpose," he replied.
With a glance, Elena dismissed her knights. Bernard remained, silent as ever.
The Duke raised a brow, but she spoke first. "You may speak freely in front of Bernard. He is trustworthy."
A flicker of surprise crossed Bernard's eyes at the princess's words, but he quickly regained his composure.
The Duke gave a small nod of acceptance and led them into his greenhouse—lush, warm, and buzzing with unseen life. At the center stood the Runebark Tree: ancient, gnarled, and silver-white. It pulsed with quiet magic, its roots breathing softly beneath the soil.
"It will bloom soon," the Duke murmured. "But something is missing. It refuses to awaken fully."
"Because the final catalyst hasn't been provided yet," Elena said.
She didn't elaborate immediately, walking instead around the tree, letting her hand brush the air near its bark. Her memories were clear—when the tree bloomed in her past life, Ten fruits had appeared, each glowing faintly. Those who ate one received a great enhancement of their physical and magical prowess. It would not raise their rank, but it would make them stronger.
"I propose a deal," Elena said at last. "Four fruits for me, six for you. In return, you help me with something else."
The Duke narrowed his eyes. "What help do you require?"
She gestured to a quiet bench near the tree, where the three of them sat.
"A demon in the East stirs again," she said. "But this time... it may be trying to summon something greater. I don't know if it's a beast, a god, or a sin given flesh. But I intend to stop it."
The Duke leaned forward slightly. "You mentioned that in your letter, but give me details. What did the messenger say?"
Elena nodded. "According to the scout I sent ahead, he reached one of the border villages near the Whispering Hollow—there were signs of mass ritual sites in the abandoned ruins. Black stones etched with runes not seen in centuries. The soil around the area was scorched, not by fire, but by something that corrupted the very essence of life. Even plants refused to grow. Animals fled."
She paused, then added, "The scout barely made it back alive. He claimed to hear chanting in a tongue he couldn't understand, and... he saw shadows moving in broad daylight. He said it felt as if the air itself was watching him."
The Duke was silent for a long time. Finally, he nodded.
"Very well. I accept your terms. And I will help you... Whatever comes."
Bernard, who had remained still as stone, finally spoke. "Then we should prepare."
The Runebark Tree shivered, a single silver leaf drifting down to the earth below.