CHAPTER XXVI
"The First Truth: Of Queens and Warnings"
The tree stood taller now.
Its leaves trembled slightly, not from wind — there was none — but from the tension that filled the glowing forest. I could feel it in my bones, the way the air held its breath, waiting for the truth to surface.
Then the voice came again — deep, old, and woven with power.
> "Your first question," Ethan said slowly. "There is a land where each year, a great event is held. But only the Queen and King are allowed to attend. Tell me… which land is this?"
I blinked.
A land where only rulers were allowed… where something happened annually…
The answer floated in my mind before I even realized it had risen from memory. It wasn't just something I had heard — it was something I had read, dreamt, even longed to witness someday.
> "Ice Land," I answered, my voice steady, sure.
"Ice Land is where the event is held every year."
The tree fell silent for a breathless moment.
Then a soft glow shimmered through its bark, and I heard what could only be described as a warm sigh of approval.
> "Well said," Ethan rumbled. "Correct."
A small gust of air brushed past my cheeks — not wind, exactly… but a strange, almost loving recognition from the forest itself.
> "You see," Ethan continued, "as the future Queen… you should know this."
"Each year, Mother Fairy holds an ancient gathering in Ice Land — a sacred, royal event. No servants. No generals. No outsiders."
> "Only the King. And the Queen."
His voice grew quieter now… more serious.
> "There… she warns of dangers that lie ahead. Of cracks forming in fate… of the darkness that dares creep toward our world."
I stood still, the weight of his words slowly sinking in.
So it was true.
Not just a story passed down among nobility or whispered in the palace hallways.
It was real.
This event — this gathering of rulers — had been taking place in secret all this time. And now… I was being told why it mattered.
Ethan's tone darkened as he spoke again:
> "And this year… the danger that will be spoken of… is you."
The breath caught in my throat.
> "Mother Fairy will speak your name at the next gathering."
His bark glowed red for a moment — not with fire, but with warning.
> "You are the one the stars have circled. You are the one prophecy points toward. Whether salvation or destruction — none yet know."
I staggered slightly under the pressure of it all.
Me?
Why me?
Why did the fate of so many seem to be tied to my name?
I didn't feel powerful.
I didn't feel ready.
And yet… a part of me already knew. Maybe it always had.
Ethan's voice softened — like a father speaking gently to a child who doesn't yet understand the weight of their crown.
> "You have answered well, Celeste. But there are still two more truths you must face."
His leaves rustled once again, and the glow in the air shifted — deeper now, more expectant.
> "Be warned: The next truths will not be so simple."
I stood up straighter, swallowing the fear tightening in my chest.
"I'm not afraid," I whispered to myself.
Because even if I was…
There was no turning back now.
I had spoken my first truth.
And the forest was listening.
"The Second Truth: The One Who Was Summoned"
The forest quieted again.
The windless air pressed down against my skin like a warning, wrapping around me like the silence before a storm. I could hear my own heartbeat echoing inside my chest as Ethan — the ancient tree spirit who had become my judge — stirred once more.
His bark creaked softly as if he were remembering something long buried.
> "Now," he said, voice low and grave,
"Your second question."
The leaves around us shimmered in dull silver light, and the earth beneath my feet pulsed faintly — as if the magic of the question itself carried weight.
> "Tell me, Princess…"
"Twenty-two years ago, which evil soul was summoned from Heaven… and why?"
A chill slid down my spine.
The moment the question left his lips, I knew I didn't have the full answer. Not like the first time.
This… this was a truth shrouded in half-whispers and forgotten scrolls — a tale that had always sounded more like a myth than fact.
But now, standing here under the gaze of an ancient sentient tree who demanded truth above all else, I had to trust what little I knew.
I swallowed hard, then spoke.
"My answer might not be complete," I admitted honestly, "but… this is what I've been told."
I took a slow breath.
> "Twenty-two years ago, there was a forbidden summoning — one laced in ancient, twisted magic that hadn't been used for centuries. And from that summoning… came Vorgath."
Even saying the name felt like inviting darkness into the room. The air thickened, and the forest around me seemed to tense — like the trees remembered him too.
> "Vorgath was one of the most feared souls in magical history," I continued softly.
"A wielder of the darkest kind of magic — one that didn't just destroy bodies, but corrupted minds… and bent fate itself."
I looked down at my hands, then back at Ethan.
> "They say… a King summoned him. I don't know which one. No one does. But within days of Vorgath's arrival… that King fell into a strange, cursed sleep. A sleep so deep, so unbreakable, it was as if his very soul had been locked inside a dream."
> "They called it the curse of eternal sleep paralysis — because though his eyes would sometimes open, he couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Couldn't wake. He became a prisoner in his own body."
I paused, trying to gather my thoughts, my voice quieter now.
> "That's all I know. The rest is shadows. The rest… was hidden from us."
The air stood still for several long moments.
I couldn't read Ethan's face — of course, he had none — but I could feel something changing around us. Like the magic itself was deciding whether my truth was worthy.
And then…
The great tree sighed.
> "You have not given the full story," Ethan said gently,
"but what you did give… was true to what you know."
The roots around him curled back into the earth, and a soft, golden light shimmered through his branches.
> "You did not lie, Celeste. And that is what matters here."
My chest lifted with a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.
> "You have passed the second truth," he declared.
"Because truth isn't about knowing everything. It's about speaking what you do know… from the heart."
The forest responded as if in agreement. The glowing vines swayed gently. The soft hum of ancient magic moved around us like a whisper of approval.
And in that moment, I realized something important.
This journey… it wasn't just about riddles and prophecies. It was about me facing the truths I'd only dared glance at before. About speaking the names of ancient evils and forgotten tragedies — and not letting them break me.
Because truth — no matter how incomplete — was still truth.
And I had one more to face.
The final question.
The one that, deep down, I feared the most.
Not because I didn't know the answer.
But because I already suspected what it would cost to say it out loud.
To be continue....