"Captured?"
The scout hesitated, shifting his weight. "A few of our men returned injured, but alive. Lord…" His voice faltered under Drayce's gaze. "Lord was unable to flee. He was captured. We are tending to the wounded now."
Dracye did not say anything. Gauzing his mood the scout continued.
He bowed slightly. "We believe Lord entered the kingdom on his own… perhaps scouting. We weren't aware the carriages we intercepted were royal. The princess's, apparently."
"Royal?" Drayce echoed, stepping back. He handed his sparring sword to a waiting attendant and reached for a towel, wiping the sweat from his jaw.
The scout hesitated, then continued. "Report says we nearly had them. They were heavily guarded, but we had the advantage in numbers. Still… she redirected us."
Drayce stopped wiping, lifting a brow.
"She?" Drayce's tone was sharp now like his blade sliding into scabbard.
The scout straightened, lifting his chin he nodding once. "Yes, Your Majesty. The royal girl." He swallowed.
"They say she has blonde hair like sunlight itself was spun. And her green eyes, were soft at first glance, almost timid.… until she spoke."
He faltered under Drayce's steady gaze, then rushed on, as if defending himself from judgment that hadn't yet come. He hesitated, then added more quietly:
"She looked delicate and gentle. The kind that needs protection. Her voice like command wrapped in honey. But she was actually like a rose which draws you in, until you got close and realized the thorns were real."
Drayce tilted his head, in silence. The scout shifted his weight, as if replaying the memory of what was reported to him. He hurried on as if rushing a part of the story would undo him from his liege's scrutiny.
"Her dress was ruined, soaked throughout with mud. Her face was smudged with ash, hair tangled with twigs and blood was trailing down her cheek. But still…"
He exhaled, the words coming slower now.
" she stood there like she owned the field. And for the moment, it was clear we were the ones who didn't belong there."
A dry, nervous laugh escaped him.
"It is said that even our men ...they paused when they saw her. She looked like something out of a dream. But then, maybe it was all calculated"
"Calculation?" Drayce set the towel down, and splayed his fingers on the edge of the practice ring. He leaned forward, suddenly intent. "Explain."
"She saw right through our formation. And used the terrain to stall us. She directed her people to the creek bed. And lured us in a trap. The ground there was slick, our horses lost footing, and in the chaos, her guard circled back."
He paused, jaw tight. "It wasn't luck. She orchestrated it."
"She even requested reinforcements," the scout added, still incredulous. "As if she knew exactly who to send for."
Drayce turned toward him fully now, his expression gave nothing away.
He slowly removed his sparring gloves, letting them fall to the ground.
"A royal girl managed all that?" he asked.
The scout hesitated, then nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty."
He exhaled, a breath that seemed to carry the weight of everything he couldn't explain.
"The men are saying… she wasn't usual princess. Calm, focused. She gave commands like someone who's been on the battlefield before. Our injured are calling her the Rose of Elarion. They are saying she was like something out of a legend."
Drayce's expression didn't change. But something behind his eyes did. Interest. Then, unexpectedly, he let out a single, dry chuckle.
"A rose." He took a step forward. "And yet my soldiers were trampled by thorns."
Drayce tossed the towel aside and stepped toward the edge of the training ring. As he walked away, the clink of armor followed as his guards fell into silent formation behind him.
But just before disappearing into his tent, he paused. He turned slightly. His voice came out low.
"What did you say her name was?"
"Elinessa, sire."
Dracye repeated her name under his breath.
"Elinessa…"
"Elinessa.....,"
he said again, softer, like a promise or a warning.
Then, a slow, cruel smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He turned without another word sealing the name with him in the dark.
******************************************
Soft light filtered through the gauzy curtains. Everything was too still. My head throbbed, like I'd fallen off the edge of a dream and hit every sharp, splintered thought on the way down. I blinked. Once. Twice. My vision swam, shapes slowly coming into focus. The scent of something herbal hit my nose.
Huh.....Where—?
The ceiling above me was familiar. This was the room I had been waking in and falling asleep in for the past six months. My chambers.
The canopy draped in soft silk, pale golden, embroidered with little vines. Above it, the ceiling's mosaic came into view a pattern of translucent glass and gold-leaf panels, elegant by design, gleaming softly in the morning light. The glass caught the sun just enough to scatter warmth across the walls, while the gold reflected everything below in a fractured, delicate shimmer.
I sat up with a jolt. It all hit me at once but my vision darkened, and for a few minutes my mind refused to catch up with my body. it was sluggish and heavy as if dragged down by low blood pressure. Slowly, my clarity returned.
The ambush. The screaming. The blood. The heat of the fight. Renna's hand slipping from mine. Callisto's blade catching the moonlight. My torn dress— the thud of hooves. Remembering all that, my stomach lurched.
Oh my god. This sh*t of a simulation.....
Heart hammering, I threw off the covers and scrambled to the edge of the bed, nearly slipping as my feet hit the floor. My fingers fumbled with the drawer on my bedside table before yanking it open with a sharp clatter.
There it was.
Tucked neatly in the corner, right where I had left it. A small plushie: round, squishy, shaped like a fox with a tiny embroidered crown tilted jauntily to one side. Its button eyes stared up at me. I snatched it up, clutching it tight to my chest and breathed.
"Come on, come on…" I whispered.
A soft, melodic chime echoed through the room. Gentle and mechanical. Suddenly a static mechanical voice utterly useless echoed,
"Unable to connect to Companion AI 'Arlo.' A system error has been encountered."
I froze, clutching the fox plush tighter.
"No," I whispered. "No, not now."
"Please remain calm." the voice chirped. again.
"The narrative experience has entered an unstable phase."
My chest tightened and panicking, I blurted, "What....unstable phase? What do you mean by unstable phase?"
I shook the little fox plush Arlo, as if squeezing answers out of its stitched seams.
Its button eyes only stared back, unblinking. Then the mechanical voice crackled again, but the words were completely different, unrelated, as though the system hadn't even heard me.
"We are working to resolve the issue."
"Participant: Sera Kim you must complete the remaining scenario manually."
"We will resume system assistance shortly. Dreamsync apologize for the inconvenience."