The sky above Aerwyn shimmered in a palette of lavender and rose as dawn spilled over the quiet village. Dew clung to the edges of wildflowers, and a breeze rustled the fields like the gentle breath of a god watching from afar. Elira stood at the crest of the hill overlooking her home—what had been her only shelter since childhood.
Her satchel was light, containing only essentials: bread she baked the night before, a spare tunic, the glowing pendant she now kept close to her chest, and a worn journal filled with scattered dreams and silent prayers. Her heart was heavier than her belongings, but her resolve was clear. She would go—she must go.
A creak of wood signaled the approach of a wagon.
"Miss Elira?" called a man's voice. It was Master Roldan, the traveling merchant who visited the village once every season. He sat atop a cart pulled by a dappled mare, squinting down at her in the early light. "You sure about this?"
Elira nodded. "Yes. Thank you for letting me ride with you."
He scratched his beard. "It's a long road to Lysoria. City life isn't always kind to girls like you."
"I'm not going there for kindness," she said softly. "I'm going to find something... or someone."
Roldan frowned but said no more. He simply extended his hand, and Elira climbed aboard.
As the wagon creaked along the road, the village shrank behind her, replaced by miles of unknown. Yet as the pendant under her cloak pulsed warmly, she knew: this road had been waiting for her.
---
Meanwhile, beyond the opulent walls of Theralis Palace, the first sliver of sunlight broke through the horizon. In the east wing, where forgotten royalty were kept hidden, Prince Kael sat beneath the massive window of his chambers. He wore a cloak of deep navy, lined in silver. Maren stood behind him, carefully adjusting the prince's shoulder straps.
"You're certain about this?" Maren asked, voice low but urgent. "If your father finds out—"
"He won't," Kael replied, his gaze far away. "He has too many battles to fight in court. And if he does... I'm willing to pay the price."
"You've never stepped beyond these walls without a dozen guards," Maren reminded him. "You can't walk far, and the road—"
Kael's jaw tensed. "Then I'll ride."
Maren softened. "I just... I don't want you to be hurt."
Kael turned to him. "For the first time in my life, I feel... drawn. As though something is calling me. Not from within the palace. From beyond it."
Maren handed him a folded map. "Then let me at least guide you partway."
Kael smiled faintly. "You've already guided me for years."
Moments later, a discreet carriage rolled out through the lesser gate under pretense of transporting goods. Hidden inside was a prince cloaked in secrecy and divine purpose.
---
The roads beyond the kingdom's heartland were alive with color and chaos. Elira's eyes widened as they passed bustling towns, winding rivers, and marketplaces humming with foreign tongues. She had never seen so many kinds of people—or heard so many songs played in the open streets.
But wonder was not without danger.
By the third day, they encountered a group of masked riders who demanded coin from travelers. Roldan tensed, but Elira stepped forward.
She held out a small loaf of bread.
The bandit leader stared at it.
"A loaf?" he scoffed.
"Baked with herbs from a shrine," she said, her voice calm. "Brings protection."
There was silence.
Then, oddly, he took it.
And let them pass.
Later, when asked how she remained calm, Elira only whispered, "I don't know. Something inside me told me I'd be safe."
She could feel it again now—like hands of light cradling her from above.
---
Elsewhere, Kael's carriage rolled through quiet woodlands. Every turn, every breath of wind, felt charged with meaning. He pressed his palm to the window as ancient trees passed.
"Stop here," Kael said suddenly.
Maren blinked. "We're in the middle of nowhere."
"There's something here."
Maren helped him down carefully. Kael's legs, bound in braces of polished wood and metal, trembled. Yet he walked—slowly, stubbornly—toward a small rise in the forest.
Atop it stood ruins, overgrown and forgotten. An old shrine, perhaps once used by pilgrims. Vines clung to cracked stone, and faded runes lined the base.
Kael knelt before it.
The moment his hand touched the altar, a pulse of warmth spread through his body.
"She was here," he murmured.
"Who?" Maren asked.
"I don't know her name," Kael whispered, "but I see her... in dreams. Her hair, the sound of her voice, the way the light bends around her."
Maren stayed silent. He had watched over Kael for many years, but never had he seen such clarity in the prince's eyes.
"She is real," Kael said. "And I will find her."
---
As dusk fell over the plains, Elira stepped down from the wagon near the outskirts of Lysoria—a holy city built on the edge of golden hills. She had no destination but followed the hum of something deeper than instinct.
She passed a street musician playing a song she didn't recognize but felt like home.
She turned at an alley, then stopped.
There, hidden behind vines, was a small temple—a mirror of the ruin Kael had visited.
Her pendant glowed.
Elira stepped forward, unsure of why her hands trembled.
Inside, candles burned without anyone tending them. A mural painted in the ceiling depicted a man of light and a woman of earth, their hands almost touching.
Elira reached out instinctively.
And in that moment, far away, Kael did the same.
---
Their fingers met stone, not skin.
But something else met—something unseen.
In two distant places, two souls flinched at once.
And the sky, still painted with stars, seemed to shimmer just a little brighter.