Chapter Two: Beyond the Door
The snow outside was soft and still, draped over rooftops like frosting. The festive hum of Christmas had faded, but its warmth lingered in the air. Inside our Montreal home, the morning was quiet—until Dad called out from the entryway.
"Uh… Flora, are you sure we're not bringing these?" he asked.
I peeked into the hallway to see him standing over our luggage, confusion on his face. I recognized the bags—he'd packed them meticulously with coats, books, and toys for Ellyn and me.
Mom walked by without even glancing at the suitcases. "We don't need them," she said simply.
Dad frowned. "Are your relatives just nearby, then?"
Mom offered a small smile. "Not exactly. They live in another dimension."
Another dimension?
I paused, halfway through tying my scarf. That wasn't something people just casually dropped into conversation.
Dad blinked. "You can open a gate to another dimension?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Oh? So you've heard about them?"
He nodded. "A few centuries ago, someone in my family crossed into another dimension. Never came back. Lots of stories—mostly warnings."
Mom turned to the front door, crimson eyes glowing faintly. "I'm not planning on vanishing. Just watch."
She lifted her hand. A red-violet shimmer swirled in her palm like melted glass. Symbols I didn't understand twisted midair. The magic spread to the doorframe. I could feel the hum in the air—a strange pressure building around us.
Then she opened the door.
Instead of our snowy front yard, we saw a dark stone courtyard beneath a sky filled with unfamiliar stars. A curtain of purple energy marked the boundary between our world and this one.
Mom reached for my hand and stepped through the veil. I followed without hesitation, while Ellyn clutched Dad's hand.
The air was different here. Heavy with magic, but not unpleasant. Even the trees looked unreal—black trunks, crystal leaves. The palace ahead loomed tall and majestic, made of obsidian stone and crowned with spires that shimmered in the starlight.
I stepped onto the path, my boots clicking softly against glowing stone.
From the far side of the courtyard, a figure approached—tall and regal, clad in layered robes the color of blood and midnight. Mom straightened.
"Good morning, Father," she said. "Sorry we're early."
The man stopped a few paces away. His voice was deep but calm. "It's quite alright, Faelora."
Dad stepped forward and placed a hand on his chest. "Good morning, Uncle."
The Emperor's eyebrow arched. "You don't need to call me 'Uncle.' As Flora's husband, you should call me 'Father.'"
Dad hesitated, then gave a respectful nod. "Good morning, Father. I'm Wilfred Andreas K. Stalen."
The Emperor gave a short nod. "Hanford vi Dark. You've met me before."
"Yes," Dad admitted. "I remember. But I didn't know you were... the Emperor."
Mom gave him a look. "He is. And welcome to Harwen Empire, Wil. My home."
She turned to us. "Ellan, Ellyn—go say hello to your grandfather."
I didn't need to be told twice. Ellyn beat me by a step, of course.
"Hi, Grandpa!" she beamed.
Hanford—Grandpa—smiled faintly, his strict face softening. "Hello, my grandchildren. Come. This palace has waited long enough to welcome its heirs."
I followed him into the palace, Ellyn's laughter echoing beside mine. I was too busy taking in the scenery to notice the word 'heirs' when Grandfather said it.
=====
Inside, the palace was everything I imagined a magical world would be—and more. Long corridors stretched out, lined with glowing sconces and bold tapestries of deep crimson and black. The scent of incense floated gently through the air, calming and old, like ancient libraries and temples.
Ellyn grabbed my hand. "Let's go, Al!"
We bolted down the hall, silver-white and red hair streaming behind us. The floors gleamed beneath our feet.
"Careful, you two!" Dad called after us.
I turned to grin at him, but I slowed down. It felt like even the floor here held stories.
=====
Wilfred's Point Of View
He watched the twins dash ahead and then turned to Flora. "You'll have to explain all this to me."
She smiled faintly. Her gaze lingered on Ellan, who slowed to match Ellyn's steps.
He studied her face. This place—this world—fit her. Regal halls, the scent of old magic, the air tingling with power. She had always felt... different. Now he understood why.
Ellyn bore the same timeless grace he recognized in himself—silver hair, fair skin, green eyes, traits of the High Elves. But Ellan—he took after Flora: crimson-haired, crimson-eyed, like fire wrapped in calm.
He couldn't carry his family name, not in this world. He wasn't a High Elf. Here, he was Ellan vi Dark. A name tied to his mother's bloodline. To power.
=====
Later that day, Flora and Wilfred found a moment to breathe in the palace gardens. Everything shimmered—petals, vines, even the air itself. Birds with glassy feathers sang from silver trees. Light motes danced lazily around them.
She sat beside him, her expression distant.
"Which would you like to know first?" she asked. "My world… or my family?"
"My answer hasn't changed," he said softly. "Your family."
She turned her head slightly. "Say my real name first."
He smiled. "Faelora."
She looked down at her hands. "I was born on Earth, yes. But my blood belongs here. My father—Hanford—met my mother while she was still on Earth. He gave up this world for her. Stayed behind. But when she died last year… he came back. Took back the throne."
He nodded slowly. "You knew all this?"
"I overheard a conversation between him and one of his advisors, years ago. That's how I found out."
A pause passed between them.
He asked, "Is this why you brought us here?"
"One reason," she said. "But not the only one."
She took a deep breath. "Ellan will be the heir."
He stiffened. "The heir? To the throne?"
She nodded. "He carries both legacies. The next ruler of Harwen will be connected to both Earth and Drevara. He's the bridge between them. More importantly, he's the last one with a strong bloodline from the Dark family. Although he's not a pure-blood East Demon like me, he still carries the Dark blood. I'm an only child, and he, as my son, is the only one truly fit to take the throne."
His heart thudded. "So he'll live here?"
"Eventually. But not now. I want him to live as a human first. To grow up with friends, school, laughter. He still cries when he's scared. Still hides behind me when strangers approach. He needs time."
He looked toward the gardens, where the stars blinked overhead.
"We'll raise him together," he said.
Her hand slid into his.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Overhead, the constellations of Drevara shimmered silently, watching the child who would one day rise as their Emperor: Ellan vi Dark.