Chapter three
Far above the mortal realm—beyond cloud and time, above winds and the gaze of men floated a realm forged of moonlight and silence: Elarion, kingdom of the immortals.
Here, the stars did not merely shine they whispered. Not in words, but in echoes, forgotten songs etched into eternity.
And tonight, those whispers grew louder in Caelum's ears.
He stood at the balcony of his obsidian tower, unmoving, his cloak stirring like a shadow in the breeze. Below him, the glowing gardens of Elarion spread endlessly, carved from crystal and living light. The beauty of the realm was flawless. Unchanging.
And hollow.
He had dreamed again.
The girl with silver hair. Her laughter like bells… then flames. Screams.
Always the flames.
"You're still having the visions," said a calm voice behind him.
Caelum didn't turn. "They aren't visions."
Thorne stepped forward, dark hair tied back, armor glinting with quiet power. He was the only one who ever dared approach without invitation.
Caelum's personal guard.
His only friend.
"They're memories," Caelum added, frowning.
Thorne didn't respond immediately. Instead, he watched the sky. "And what do you remember?"
"A face. Her voice. Then fire. Chaos."
"Anything else?"
Caelum's jaw clenched. "No. Only pain."
Throughout the palace, servants averted their eyes as Caelum passed. Some trembled. Others knelt and dared not breathe. His reputation stretched across every realm Protector of the Realms, the Warlord of the Skies. But few had seen his face and lived to speak of it.
For his beauty was not comforting it was terrible. Otherworldly. Cold.
Tall and lithe, with skin like pale marble. Hair of midnight. Eyes silver and ancient, holding centuries of unknowable weight. His face was perfection sculpted by gods but untouchable.
And in that beauty, there was danger.
In the Hall of Flame, where the fires never burned out, Vaelira waited.
Second daughter of the House of Flame. Beautiful. Enigmatic. Dangerous.
She turned when Caelum entered, her lavender gown shifting like smoke. Her smile was warm too warm.
"You're restless," she said gently. "Another dream?"
Caelum's stare cut through her. "You already know."
Vaelira stepped closer. Her presence was intoxicating, and yet… he felt nothing. He never had.
"There are dreams better left forgotten," she murmured.
"Are they?" Caelum asked.
"Yes," she said softly. "Because some memories are doors that should never be opened again."
Her voice held warning. Beneath the softness fear.
But Caelum saw it. Felt it.
She knew something.
She always had.
Later, he stood before his brother Rhaziel, King of the Immortal Realm. Regal, wise, and always watching.
"You summoned me," Caelum said.
Rhaziel studied him from the high throne of starlight, one hand resting on the hilt of the Scepter of Dawn. "There are rumors."
"I don't care for gossip."
"Not from mortals," Rhaziel said. "From the dream spirits. They say your soul stirs."
"Let it stir."
Rhaziel's golden eyes hardened. "You're walking too close to the edge of remembrance."
Caelum's gaze sharpened. "What is it that I'm not supposed to remember?"
Silence.
Then: "She is the reason we live in shadow," Rhaziel said coldly. "The one who brought ruin to all realms mortal, immortal, even the sea realm of Naerys."
A pause.
"Her name is forbidden."
Caelum stepped closer. "Then why do I see her every night?"
"Because some wounds never close," Rhaziel snapped. "And some things were meant to be buried, Caelum. For the safety of us all."
No one ever told him the truth.
Not Rhaziel.
Not Vaelira.
Not the elders who cloaked themselves in stars and silence.
They only whispered of destruction. Of war. Of a demon goddess who loved too deeply and turned to wrath when betrayed.
A name no one dared to speak.
A love no one dared to recall.
But Caelum remembered pieces.
A hand in his. Lips like fire and silk.
The way the world burned when she screamed.
"She wasn't evil," Caelum said that night, standing at the edge of the lake in his private garden.
The waters shimmered silver over black.
Thorne stood behind him. Quiet. Watchful.
"You know who she is, don't you?" Caelum asked.
Thorne didn't answer right away.
Then, softly: "I know what they fear."
"They fear me," Caelum said. "Because I loved her."
A pause. The wind stirred the lake.
"And because… I still do."
In the mortal world far below, a silver-haired princess woke with a gasp, hand on her chest, a name on her lips that never came.
She blinked at the ceiling of silk and gold. Sunlight warmed her cheeks.
She had no idea why her dreams left her crying.
Or why her heart felt broken… before it had ever been whole.
In her hidden tower, Vaelira stared into a mirror of obsidian glass.
Behind her, shadows danced.
"She's waking," she whispered.
And when she is whole again…
The realms will burn.