Chapter Three
Elysium felt her nerves settle deep in her chest as her courtier fastened the final buttons of her gown. The cream silk was adorned with delicate golden embroidery, and lace sleeves draped off her shoulders. The corseted bodice cinched her waist, pulling her posture straight and regal. Her hair had been pinned half-up beneath her tiara, soft curls left loose to frame her face.
She stepped into her golden heels and made her way to the carriage that would take her to the engagement ball in Valemaris.
Valemaris stood as the middle ground between all four kingdoms, once ruled by a united empire before it withered away centuries ago. Now, it served as neutral territory and a place for rulers to gather, negotiate, and celebrate.
Built upon elevated white stone cliffs overlooking a vast circular valley, the city's design resembled a crown when viewed from above. Four massive roads extended outward like spokes of a wheel, each leading to one of the kingdoms. Its architecture blended every realm: Alaria's luminous white marble, Sheol's black obsidian inlays, Valkareth's iron pillars and heavy buttresses, and Laseau's ocean-carved archways with blue crystal windows.
Though only occupied a few times each year, its emptiness ensured neutrality. Tonight, however, it pulsed with life. The people of Alaria and Valkareth filled their halls to celebrate what was meant to be the merging of two powerful kingdoms.
Yet Elysium could not shake the unease twisting in her stomach.
Never before had the kingdoms converged like this. Was she making a mistake?
When the carriage arrived at the grand palace, moonlight washed over its pale stone façade. Four towering spires rose from each corner, each distinct in design. The North Spire gleamed with white marble and winged carvings. The South Spire stood in black obsidian trimmed in crimson. The East Spire shimmered with blue crystal glass and silver filigree. The West Spire loomed with iron-ribbed battlements.
Elysium stepped onto the damp stone walkway, her gaze lifting to the towering iron doors lit by twin torches. She held her breath as the guards pulled them open.
The crowd inside erupted in applause.
From a balcony overlooking the ballroom, Lupus watched her descend. A slow smile curved across his face. The rubies embedded in his crown glinted like embers beneath the chandeliers.
He descended the grand staircase and extended his arm toward her.
Without hesitation, she accepted.
His fingers intertwined with hers, his free hand settling firmly at her waist. The touch made her breath hitch; sharp, unexpected.
He leaned close, his breath warm against her ear.
"You look beautiful, Ely," he murmured.
She smiled politely, thanking him in a soft voice.
The ballroom floor had cleared for them. Candlelit chandeliers reflected against polished stone, casting a warm glow across guests dressed in green and red, which were the colors of their kingdoms.
Lupus placed one hand at the small of her back and held the other in his own. They began to waltz.
The crowd murmured approvingly.
But with each turn, Elysium felt her head grow lighter. The room seemed to spin faster than the dance required. She steadied herself, forcing her smile to remain intact.
The Alarians watched her as if she had just secured their salvation.
But at what cost?
She knew she would never marry for love. Only for duty. Only for Alaria.
Power demanded sacrifice.
"I know this is a shock for you," Lupus said gently, his eyes searching hers, "but this is what's best for our kingdoms."
His voice was steady and reassuring.
She nodded.
The night passed in dancing, drinking, and careful diplomacy. It almost felt hopeful.
Until the dizziness worsened.
Elysium pressed a hand to her forehead and stepped back toward the wall. Lupus noticed immediately.
"Are you alright?" he asked quietly.
"I just need air," she said.
She stumbled into the bailey, the cool night brushing her flushed skin. Stars glittered overhead as she made her way toward the courtyard. Leaning against a stone pillar, she finally allowed her composure to crack.
Tears welled in her eyes.
Footsteps echoed behind her.
She stiffened.
Alastor stepped into the torchlight, shadows retreating from his hooded face.
"You seem to be enjoying the celebrations," he said casually, leaning against the railing.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded.
He smirked. "Congratulating the happy couple."
She rolled her eyes. "One of your people crossed into my land yesterday."
Alastor laughed, tilting his head back. "My people do as they please. They're damned already."
A chill settled between them.
"You haven't shown your face in years," she said sharply.
"I need to speak with Lupus."
"About what?"
He didn't look back as he walked away. "Good to see you, Princess."
The doors slammed shut behind him.
Elysium lingered outside, unsettled.
Moments later, she heard voices. She slipped behind a pillar as Lupus and Alastor emerged.
"I'm looking forward to the union," Lupus said.
"You think it'll make a difference?" Alastor replied dryly.
"Your people lack structure. You'll crumble."
Alastor only smiled.
"Is that why you came?" Lupus pressed.
"I've been gone a long time," Alastor said evenly. "But I am still a prince."
After a tense pause, he clapped Lupus on the back. "A pleasure."
He disappeared into the forest.
The carriage ride home was silent.
Until it wasn't.
The carriage jolted violently to a stop, throwing Elysium and Celeste against the walls.
"Wait," Celeste warned as Elysium reached for the door.
Too late.
The door was ripped open. Cold air rushed in. Rough hands yanked Elysium from the carriage.
She hit the grass hard.
A man loomed over her with sunken eyes, sickly yellow skin. He pressed a torch toward her face, heat licking her cheeks.
Celeste lunged forward, knocking at his arm.
Elysium's gaze flickered to the coachman who was slumped lifeless over the white horse, blood soaking his clothes.
The attacker tossed the torch into the carriage.
Flames erupted.
He seized Elysium by the throat.
Air vanished.
Suddenly, the man froze, then collapsed.
An arrow protruded from his chest.
Lupus stepped from the shadows, bow in hand.
"He's from Sheol," Lupus said grimly.
Elysium's reaction was numb. Raids were not uncommon. Sheol was desperate. Their lands were harsh, their resources scarce.
Lupus draped his mantle over her shoulders.
"We will hold a conference tomorrow," he said firmly. "This will stop."
She stared at her torn gown and bloodied hands.
Would it?
Later, standing on her balcony in Alaria, she looked out across her kingdom.
Alaria was a land where light bent softly around temple spires. White marble towers shimmered beneath stained-glass domes. Swans drifted across palace ponds. Deer grazed without fear. Songbirds filled the dawn with music.
Gold trimmed rooftops and columns. Sacred pools glowed faintly at night.
Dire wolves patrolled the streets; guardians of the royal line for centuries.
Alaria felt safe.
Ordered.
Beautiful.
But beyond its borders, Sheol endured.
Jagged mountains tore at its skyline. Volcanic ridges cracked the earth. Dark pine forests swallowed light. The air smelled of smoke and iron. Thunderstorms rolled in without warning.
Black stone fortresses clung to cliffs like claws.
Sheol survived.
Alaria flourished.
Elysium tried to understand Alastor's rule.
She never could.
But tomorrow, there would be answers.
And she had a feeling none of them would be gentle.