Lord Lorcand POV
Deep in the western side of the forest, hidden the dark castle near and volcano mountain. Lord Lorcand sat upon his throne, his eyes fixed on an enchanted mirror before him.
Within the shimmering glass, the reflection of Willow appeared—radiant in her flowing silver gown, her presence glowing like moonlight against the shadows of his chamber.
Jealousy churned in his gut like poison. She was his to have , his Queen and to see her with that foolish Elf make him sick to the core.
That dress should be for him. That smile should be his.
She should be his bride—not Everest's.
Lorcand leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clenched. His dark eyes glinted beneath heavy brows as he stared hungrily at her image.
From the shadows of the room, a voice broke the silence.
"You know, it's creepy when you stare like that."
Lorcand let out a low growl and leaned back in his throne. His fingers curled, one idly brushing over his thick eyebrow in agitation.
"I had her... I was so close," he muttered, bitterness dripping from every word. "And just like that—she slipped through my fingers."
From the side of the room, Brielle, the wicked witch, chuckled as she glided toward him. She sat gracefully on the chair beside his, her legs crossed, her tone teasing.
"Because you give up too easily," she purred.
Lorcand turned his head slowly to glare at her.
"Then what do you suggest? She's marrying Prince Everest. She'll never come to me now."
Brielle's smile widened, her eyes darkening to a deep crimson as they locked onto the mirror.
"Who said this is the end?" she whispered, her voice a silk-covered dagger. "Yes, she may marry him. But If you love someone you should fight for that one."
Lorcand tilted his head back toward the mirror, his gaze sharpening. Willow's reflection remained there—serene, unaware, and far too beautiful to belong to anyone else.
" I love her " he admitted quitlty as he looked at the mirror " I save her back then because my heart was telling me I have to and the souls was telling me that this was they Queen that is why we save her"
He might not have her yet. But one day, he would. Just like he hold an promise to her that he would found her again and he would have her as his Queen.
She would be his—and when that day came, no one, not even Everest, would stand in his way.
Everest POV
The castle buzzed with excitement as guests poured in for the Betrothal ceremony. Everest was nervous as ever, anxiously waiting to see Willow in the dress he had chosen for her. He scanned the crowd—nobles, friends, and visitors from all corners of the Kingdom of Eleven had gathered. His grandparents were present, as was Willow's mother and her people. The only person missing was Clyde, Willow's uncle.
A pang of guilt struck Everest as he realized he had never told Willow about Clyde's death—how he had fallen in the war against the great ogres. Sadness tugged at his heart. He decided he would tell her… just not today. Not when she was so happy. He wouldn't ruin this moment for her.
"There you are," came a familiar voice behind him.
Everest turned to see his father approaching, smiling.
"You look like a man in love," Tyron said, eyes twinkling. "You remind me of myself when I was your age… when I fell in love with your mother."
Bitterness welled in Everest's chest. His mother had been an incredible woman—kind, strong, unforgettable.
"I miss her," Everest said softly. "I think she would have loved Willow."
Tyron stood beside him, hands clasped behind his back, looking out over the sea of guests.
"She would've loved this day," Tyron replied, then turned to meet his son's eyes. "But more than anything, she would've been proud of you—for how far you've come."
A warm glow filled Everest's chest at the pride he saw in his father's eyes. And then… his breath caught.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone entering the room. He turned, lips parting in awe. It was Willow.
She looked radiant—absolutely breathtaking—in the silver-white dress he had chosen. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders in soft curls, her wings glowing a brilliant white that shimmered in the candlelight.
"Is that Willow?" his father whispered beside him, eyes wide with amazement.
Everest smiled and nodded. "That's the woman I'm going to marry."
With pride swelling in his chest, he walked toward her. Willow stood at the entrance, taking in the grand hall. But when their eyes met, the world around them seemed to vanish. Her hazel-green eyes darkened with flecks of gold, and Everest's heart pounded.
He wanted nothing more than to take her away, to keep her all to himself.
As he reached her, he smiled warmly. "You look breathtaking."
Willow's cheeks flushed at his words, a shy smile blooming on her lips. "Thank you for the dress," she said softly.
Everest gently took her delicate hand in his and brought it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against it.
"When I saw it, I knew it was made for you," he said, meeting her eyes once more.
Willow's smile grew, her cheeks deepening in color. "You know me too well."
Everest's heart swelled even more, and he could feel the warmth rising in his cheeks as he looked at Willow. If only she knew what she did to him—how he would do anything for her. Just as he was about to speak, they were joined by Evelyn.
"Willow!" gasped Evelyn as she came to stand beside them. "You look extraordinary!"
Everest smiled as Evelyn leaned in to embrace Willow with a warm, heartfelt hug. It was a beautiful moment to witness.
"Mother, I'm so happy to see you. I was worried about you…. Are you okay and how are you feeling?" Willow said, her voice gentle.
"I'm more than okay," Evelyn replied, her tone full of gratitude. "Thanks to Everest, who took good care of us. Our people are safe now."
Willow turned to Everest, her eyes filled with emotion and gratitude. "You are our hero," she said sweetly.
Her words made Everest blush slightly—a rare thing for him. He was not a man who blushed easily, but Willow had a way of awakening feelings in him he never knew existed.
Suddenly, he felt someone wrap small arms around his waist.
"Everest!" a familiar little voice called out.
Looking down, he saw his youngest sister, Ella, beaming up at him with her big blue eyes. Everest smiled as he knelt down to her level. She looked like a tiny elf princess in her pink floral dress—so innocent and full of joy. If their mother were alive, she would be so proud of the young lady Ella was becoming.
"Hello, Willow," Ella said shyly when she noticed her standing beside their mother.
Willow's eyes softened with affection as she knelt down beside Everest. "Hello, Ella," she said warmly. "You look so pretty in your pink dress."
Ella blushed and looked down shyly at the compliment.
"I couldn't agree more with Willow," Everest added, smiling gently. Then he took Ella's small hand in his. "Would you do me the honor of having a dance with your big brother?"
He knew how much he longed to spend every moment with Willow, especially tonight. But he also knew that soon he would be married and would see less of his little sister. She was only seven, and this moment was something he didn't want to miss.
"I would love to," Ella replied with a glowing smile.
Everest turned to Willow, meeting her eyes. "Is it okay?" he asked gently.
He didn't know why he felt the need to ask—it was just a dance—but something in him wanted her blessing. They were going to be husband and wife, after all, and her opinion mattered more than anyone's.
Willow rose from her kneeling position, as did Everest. She smiled warmly. "Of course you can. I'll join you for the second dance."
Everest grinned and gave her a playful wink before turning to Ella. With her hand in his, he walked with her to the dance floor, the music beginning to swell around them.
Willow POV
Watching Everest dance with his little sister was a precious and special moment—one Willow cherished deeply.
Even if she didn't fully understand the depth of their bond, she knew she would never come between Everest and his family. That love, that connection, was part of what made him the man she adored.
"You've got yourself one hell of a man there," came her mother's voice beside her, warm and teasing.
Willow turned to her with a soft smile. "Are you going to be okay with me marrying Everest?" she asked, the question slipping from her lips with a hint of worry. After all that had happened in their kingdom today, she couldn't help but wonder if her mother held any doubts.
Her mother reached out and gently took her hands, her touch familiar and reassuring. "I will be more than okay, my darling," she said, her voice sincere. "Marrying Everest is the best thing that could happen—not just for you, but for all our Vila fairies. To have a strong leader, a Queen and King who carry our heritage with honor... it gives our people hope."
Willow's heart swelled with emotion as she turned her gaze back to Everest.
He was laughing, dancing with his little sister, joy radiating from him like sunlight. That was the man she loved—the man she knew she was meant to be with. A sense of peace settled over her.
"I love Everest so much, Mother," Willow said, her voice trembling slightly as she spoke from the heart. "Saying yes to him was the best decision I've ever made. He's not just my friend… he's the one I want to grow old with."
Her chest tightened with joy, and tears sparkled faintly in her eyes. She was truly the happiest she had ever been. Just then, Everest looked over and caught her gaze. He gave her a playful wink from across the dance floor, and her heart fluttered all over again.
Her mother gave her hand a gentle squeeze, drawing her attention back.
"Why don't we go get something to drink?" her mother suggested. "I've heard they've brought out the finest juices for the celebration."
Willow smiled warmly. "That sounds like a great idea."
Together, the two of them made their way toward the center of the grand room, where a beautiful table had been set with an array of fruit juices and delicate snacks, prepared for the joyous occasion.
Willow chose to get herself a glass of fresh strawberry juice with ice. She loved strawberries—they were one of her all-time favorite fruits. As she stood at the table, pouring herself the sweet, chilled drink, an odd sensation crawled over her skin—a feeling of someone's presence nearby.
A deep frown creased her forehead as a familiar scent reached her. Her heart skipped. She turned to her side, and her breath caught in her throat.
Lord Lorcand stood beside her.
Draped in a tall, dark navy coat that shadowed most of his face, he looked more like a phantom than a man. The blood drained from Willow's face. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. How had he gotten into the castle?
Frantically, she glanced around the room, searching for anyone who might have noticed him—but no one had. No heads turned. No gasps. No guards moved. It was as if he were invisible.
A smile curled across Lord Lorcand's lips beneath his hood.
"Surprised to see me?" he said in a wicked, velvety voice.
Willow's hands trembled as she set her glass down on the table. Her whole body shook. The very man who had brought ruin to their kingdom stood inches from her—and no one else seemed to notice. Her mind reeled.
"How... how are you here?" she managed to whisper, her voice barely more than a breath.
Her skin was cold with shock. She turned her eyes to the dance floor, desperate to find Everest. He was dancing, laughing—completely unaware—his attention on his sister.
"That's the thing, princesses," Lord Lorcand said, turning fully to face her. "I'm here… but only you can see me. We are the same me and you"
Willow shook her head and stepped back, her breath catching in her throat.
"No" she gasped. " We are not the same ...What do you want from me?"
Her chest rose and fell in rapid rhythm, panic building inside her. Why could no one else see him? Was this a trick? An illusion? Why was he doing this?
Her wide, terrified eyes locked onto his. Slowly, he moved closer. His fingertips reached out, brushing against her cheek. At his touch, her skin turned ice cold.
"You see, Willow," Lord Lorcand began, his voice low and intimate, "you are special. And you need to be with a man like me not Everest "
Willow swallowed hard, her throat dry. "You're sick," she spat through clenched teeth.
His smile widened, dark and delighted. "You think I'm wicked now," he said, voice thick with amusement, "but what you don't realize is that You belong to me. My blood run through your veins and my magic if the reason you breath today"
Cold sweat slid down her spine. She stiffened, summoning the last of her strength. Straightening her back, she spoke in a low, firm voice.
"I will never belong to you."
With that, she stepped back, turned on her heel, and walked away. Her mind screamed that it was all a hallucination, a cruel trick of the mind. He couldn't be real. If he were, the guards would already be storming the room.
She picked up her pace, then broke into a run. She had to get out—out of the ballroom, out of the castle. She needed air. She needed space. She needed to breathe, to clear her head.
Mathew POV
As he knelt proudly before his father to receive the crown, Mathew could hardly believe his fortune. The moment had come—the honor of leading his people and ruling the land was finally his. He held the orb of solid gold in one hand and the royal scepter in the other, his heart swelling with pride.
"I crown you as King Mathew Howard of this land," his father declared, his voice echoing through the great hall.
With reverence, the former king placed the golden crown upon Mathew's head.
Rising from his kneeling position, Mathew stood tall, the weight of the crown settling upon him like the weight of destiny itself. His father stepped beside him, raising Mathew's hand—the one holding the scepter—high into the air.
"I give you your new king!" his father shouted with pride. "King Mathew!"
The crowd erupted in cheers. Trumpets blared triumphantly, and the great bell of the kingdom began to ring. Mathew looked out over the jubilant sea of people, his chest full with the joy of fulfillment. This was the moment he had long awaited. He was king—leader of his people, guardian of their future.
His eyes found his mother standing in the front row, her face beaming with pride. Beside her stood his sister, cheering loudly, fingers in her mouth as she let out a high-pitched celebratory whistle.
It was perfect. Everything he had dreamed of, everything he had worked for, had come to pass.
After the coronation ceremony, Mathew mounted a white horse, riding proudly through the town with his father beside him. Guards flanked them on all sides, followed by a procession of carriages. One carriage held his mother and sister, waving graciously to the people. In others rode his grandparents, uncles, aunts, nieces, and nephews—all part of the royal family's grand parade.
Together, they rode slowly through the cheering crowds that lined the streets. The people celebrated with uncontainable joy, tossing flower petals and waving flags as their new king passed by.
As they made their way toward the grand castle, where the coronation ball would be held, Mathew could not stop smiling. He waved to his people from atop his horse, his heart brimming with hope, pride, and determination.
This was his beginning. The dawn of a new reign.