The roar of falling water grew louder with each step as the group crossed the mossy ridge. Beyond the misted veil, Aeloria revealed itself like a vision from another age — gold-capped towers rising from emerald plateaus, linked by slender bridges that vanished into clouds of spray. Rivers plunged in shimmering ribbons from heights so great they seemed to fall forever, and sunlight broke on the droplets, scattering rainbow fire across the city below.
Eliakim slowed his pace, eyes narrowing slightly.Beside him, Caleb kept his gaze forward, his usual smirk absent. If anything, his expression was almost… distant. Detached. As if walking through a place from a dream he'd long forgotten.
"First time seeing this?" Eliakim asked casually.
Caleb's lips curved into something that might have been a smile — if it weren't so hollow."Of course. First time."
Eliakim didn't push. Not yet.
They reached the first bridge — a span of pale stone slick with spray — and that's when the shadows moved.
Dozens of figures emerged from the foliage on both sides, silver-and-emerald armor catching the sun, bows drawn in perfect unison. Each arrow's tip shimmered faintly, the magic inside them humming like a swarm of hornets.
The one at their head stepped forward. His armor bore the insignia of the Aelorian High Legion — a crest of twin rivers crossed over a crown. His golden hair, braided with silver thread, caught the wind, and his blue-green eyes fixed sharply on the intruders.
Captain Vaeryn Solthir:"Outsiders! You tread upon the sovereign bridges of Aeloria. Speak your purpose before the Cascading Crown, or your bones will feed the roots beneath these cliffs!"
The bows tightened.
Eliakim's eyes flicked to Caleb — who, to his surprise, stepped forward without hesitation, his voice carrying both authority and something else… something practiced.
Caleb:"Stand down. These travelers are under my charge — they come to aid in the liberation of our kingdom from the Dark Elves' yoke."
The words were in the elven tongue, smooth and precise. Not the halting, accented speech of a foreigner — but the cadence of someone who had spoken it since childhood.
A murmur rippled through the legionnaires. Captain Vaeryn's posture shifted ever so slightly — not lowering his weapon, but his expression tightening in recognition. His eyes lingered on Caleb for a fraction too long, as if matching the man before him to a ghost from years past.
Captain Vaeryn: (quietly, almost to himself)"…Impossible."
Caleb's expression didn't change, but Eliakim caught the flicker in his eyes — a flash of steel, the barest twitch of his jaw — before he turned away.
Vaeryn's voice rose again, crisp and commanding."Very well. If they are under your word, they may pass. But the Queen will want to see you… all of you."
The bows lowered, but the tension did not. The soldiers parted, forming a guarded escort along the bridge.
Eliakim followed, suspicion deepening with every step. Caleb walked ahead, saying nothing, but the captain's whispered word — impossible — clung to Eliakim's mind like a burr.
And deep in the mist-shrouded city ahead, Aeloria waited — with secrets layered as deep as its rivers ran.