Adriana did not want to move.
Her feet remained rooted to the ground even as the King's voice rose calmly within her, guiding, certain—too certain for a world that no longer matched his memories.
Follow the path to the east, he said. Where the land rises before it breaks.
"I don't understand," she whispered, shaking her head as she stood alone at the edge of the fields. "There is nothing there anymore. Only ruins… only stories."
Stories are born from truth, he replied. And truth leaves marks.
She took a step back instinctively. Every part of her resisted this—this invisible pull toward a place that no longer existed in her world. Her body was tired, her heart heavier still. She had already crossed too many lines.
"I can't," she said softly. "Please. Just… don't make me do this."
There was a pause.
For the first time since dawn, his presence did not press forward.
You fear what you will find, he said—not accusing, not kind. So do I.
The honesty in those words unsettled her more than command ever could.
The wind brushed past her face, carrying the scent of old grass and distant stone. Adriana closed her eyes, drawing a slow breath. She knew there was no turning back—not now, not with the bond pulsing steadily in her chest.
"Alright," she whispered. "I'll follow."
The path revealed itself slowly as they walked.
At first, it was barely more than a memory etched into the land—a subtle curve in the fields, stones half-buried beneath soil, grass growing thinner where feet had once passed for generations. Adriana's steps were slow, careful. Each hour stretched longer than the last, exhaustion creeping into her limbs.
They walked for a long time.
The sky shifted gradually from pale gold to deeper amber. Birds retreated into silence. Shadows lengthened across the ground. Adriana wiped sweat from her brow, her breathing shallow now.
Rest, the King urged suddenly.
Before she could respond, a sharp sound broke the stillness—a low growl, close and threatening.
Adriana froze.
From the tall grass ahead, a shape emerged—lean, tense, eyes reflecting the fading light. An animal, wolf driven by hunger or fear, its body coiled as if ready to strike.
Adriana stumbled back, her heart slamming violently against her ribs.
"I— I can't—" her voice broke.
The animal lunged.
Time fractured.
Before Adriana could scream, a force surged through her body—fast, commanding, absolute. Her fear vanished beneath a sudden, overwhelming presence. Her spine straightened. Her breath steadied.
Her eyes lifted—not with her own will.
The King moved through her.
Not violently, not completely—but enough.
Her arm rose, steady and controlled, a power she had never felt before flowing outward like an unseen wall. The ground beneath the animal seemed to resist it. The air thickened, pressing back.
The animal halted mid-motion, confused, intimidated by something it could not see.
Leave, the King commanded—not aloud, but with authority that shook the space between them.
The animal recoiled, letting out a startled cry before retreating into the grass, disappearing as suddenly as it had come.
Silence returned.
Adriana collapsed to her knees, gasping, her body trembling violently. The strength that had filled her vanished at once, leaving behind a deep, aching emptiness.
"That wasn't me," she whispered, horrified.
No, he replied gently. But you allowed it.
She stayed there for several moments, gathering herself before standing again, her legs unsteady.
The journey continued.
As dusk approached, the land began to rise. Broken stone emerged from the earth—fragments of walls, pillars snapped in half, steps leading nowhere. Adriana's breath caught.
They had arrived.
The palace stood before them—or what remained of it.
Once, it must have been magnificent.
Now, only the skeleton endured.
Tall arches stood fractured against the sky, their carvings worn smooth by centuries of neglect. Towers leaned at unnatural angles, their roofs long collapsed. Ivy and wild growth crawled along the stone, claiming what war and time had abandoned.
The gates lay broken on the ground, split and rusted, half-buried beneath soil and memory.
No banners.
No guards.
No life.
Adriana felt the shift inside her instantly.
A sharp surge of emotion—anger, disbelief, grief—flooded through her chest, so intense it stole her breath. Her hands clenched at her sides as the King's reaction rippled through the bond.
This is not… His voice faltered for the first time. This is not how it was meant to remain.
The air around them felt charged, heavy with restrained fury. Adriana's pulse raced as she absorbed the weight of his shattered expectation.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, though she wasn't sure why. "Wars took everything. People forgot."
They forgot too easily, he said, bitterness cutting through his composure.
The sun began its slow descent behind the ruined towers, spilling red and gold across broken stone. As the light faded, Adriana felt something change within her.
The heaviness in her limbs eased—just slightly.
Her body felt… lighter. As if a weight she had been carrying all day loosened its grip. She straightened unconsciously, breathing easier as night reclaimed the sky.
The King felt it too.
The sun yields, he murmured. And so does the strain.
Adriana stared at the ruined palace silhouetted against the darkening horizon, her heart aching with a grief that was not entirely her own.
The past had led them here.
And as night fell once more, she understood this was only the beginning of what the bond would demand.