The air feels somewhat cooler and heavier here. It’s filled with a faint, sweet scent I cannot name, something between damp earth and crushed petals.
A river winds through the cavern below, its waters catching the glow of the gemstones and mushrooms alike, turning the surface into a ribbon of liquid silver that reflects the entire city in ethereal light.
And woven through it all are buildings. They are not builtonthe stone but shapedfromit.
White and silver structures rise from the mountain floor, their lines smooth and curved. Balconies overlook the glowing river, slender bridges arch between towers, and intricate carvings spiral up pillars that seem almost too fine to have been carved from stone at all.
I gaze at the city in awe. It’s not simply beautiful. It’s… otherworldly, as if I’ve stepped into a place that has existed long before I was born and will remain long after I am gone.
As we move deeper into the cavern, Dark Elves pause in their work as we pass, their glowing eyes lifting toward us, their gazes drawn to both Auren and me. One by one, they bow low in respect.
Even my own father does not receive this much welcome when he returns from his travels. Auren must be a good king for them to react this way.
Vaelen slows, his ears flicking forward as someone approaches up ahead.
I lift my gaze. And there, at the far end of the bridge, another Dire Wolf steps into view. He’s darker than Vaelen, his fur a deep, shadowed black that seems to swallow the soft glow around him rather than reflect it. His eyes gleam faintly gold as he moves forward with a predatory grace.
The man astride him is impossible to mistake. There’s something in the set of his shoulders, in the line of his jaw, that echoes Auren so clearly that for a moment it feels like looking at a reflection altered just enough to be unsettling.
But where Auren’s presence is steady, quiet, and grounding, this one is sharper.
His gaze finds Auren first. Then, it slowly shifts to me and lingers as Vaelen comes to a stop a few paces away.
“It is good to have you home again, Brother,” the man says at last.
“You too, Tarin,” Auren replies warmly.
Tarin’s gaze flicks toward me again, and though his face remains neutral, there’s something beneath it akin to wariness. He dips his chin in a bow. “And welcome to Elyrith, my Queen.”
I incline my head in return, matching the formality even as unease moves through me. “Thank you, Prince Tarin.”
Tarin rides beside us as we make our way through the streets toward the castle up ahead. Several pairs of eyes watch us as we pass, and while I try to ignore them, they make me a bit self-conscious.
“Most of our people have never seen a human up close,” Auren whispers in my ear. “They are merely curious about their new queen.”
Queen. I don’t feel like a queen. Not now while my world still feels as though it’s been upended.
Tarin leans closer to Auren, his voice lowering just enough that it no longer carries. “A raven arrived from the Goblin kingdom.” Auren tenses behind me even as my own heart rate picks up. “We should speak in your private chambers as soon as we reach the castle.”
“Alright,” Auren replies in a low voice.
A knot of worry twists deep within at the mention of the Goblin kingdom as my mind drifts to my father’s bargain, and the promise he made before I was born. As if sensing my worry, Auren’s arm tightens around my waist, his warmth steady and grounding.
The path curves again, carrying us deeper into the mountain, and then the space opens before us in a way that makes my breath catch all over again.
At first, I do not recognize it for what it is. It doesn’t rise like a castle, or impose itself upon the mountain the way the fortresses of my father’s kingdom do, with their sharp edges and towering walls meant to intimidate.
Instead, the stone seems to have been coaxed into shape, drawn upward into sweeping arches and slender towers that feel less like something built and more like something revealed. As if the very mountain itself has become a palace.
White stone curves gracefully into structures that seem to grow from the rock, their lines flowing and elegant, theirsurfaces catching the soft glow of gemstones embedded deep within the cavern walls.
Golden light spills from the tall windows, their soft glow blending with that of the crystals so that the entire structure seems to breathe with quiet, living magic.
As I gaze in wonder at the beauty before me, sadness steals through me. This is where he lives and rules. The image of Auren the soldier—the man I fell in love with—falls away entirely, to be replaced by Auren the king.
My heart desperately wants to believe he’s the same person, but part of me worries I may be wrong.
We pass beneath a wide archway, the stone curving overhead. It’s quieter here, as though this place exists just slightly removed from everything else.
