Elizabeth had to cross the entire hall to reach her chambers. She tried not to draw attention, gliding with light steps and lowered gaze, escorted by her new protector, Sir Veldora. But in a place where gazes pierce like spears, stealth was an impossible art. Two figures intercepted her before she even reached the first arch of the corridor.
—Your Highness, Princess Elizabeth —greeted Mayron with a slight bow, impeccably polite. Beside him, Narel barely raised a hand, yawning as if it were just another nuisance.
—Prince Mayron of Lunethra, Prince Narel Vhalen. It's a pleasure to greet you —she responded, inclining her head.
—The pleasure is ours —replied Mayron, maintaining composure. Narel simply looked at her lazily, as if each word were an unnecessary effort.
—Please, just call us by our names. That's how we do it among ourselves —added Mayron.
—Alright —she accepted with measured courtesy—. In that case, please call me Eliza.
A loud yawn broke the moment. Narel stretched shamelessly and spoke in a monotonous voice:
—Eliza… did you decide to escape the banquet? Are you as bored as I am?
Eliza reviewed in her mind everything she knew about Narel. According to the fragmentary memories of other Elizabeths, he didn't seem to have particularly hostile intentions. Rather, he seemed to be in this game out of sheer whim, like someone collecting experiences to combat his eternal monotony. However, something about him made her uneasy.
—Narel… I don't understand that existential boredom you speak of. There are so many things out there to discover...
—Discover? —responded Narel, with a barely visible smile—. For a race that barely lives a few thousand years, that makes sense. But we... we've already seen everything. There's nothing left that can surprise us.
—And beyond this world?
Mayron frowned. Narel tilted his head.
—Beyond the world? There's nothing beyond. This world is all there is.
Eliza raised an eyebrow. She looked up, contemplating the enchanted ceiling of the palace that simulated a starry sky. How could they say there was nothing beyond, if even in their own sky hung moons and stars?
She searched among her memories… but, as so many other times, found nothing concrete. Her frustration became visible on her face.
Mayron, sensing her discomfort, intervened.
—We live in a sphere, sealed by magic. The enchantments that control day and night are anchored to the very structure of the world. It's something known to all. Why does that disturb you, Your Highness?
Eliza didn't respond immediately. Instead, she posed a sharp question:
—Let's say you're right. That we inhabit a closed sphere. Then… where is that sphere? What surrounds it?
Narel let out a soft laugh, more mocking than joyful.
—Of course, it's in the Ether.
—And what contains the Ether that contains us?
This time there was no immediate response.
Narel narrowed his eyes, perplexed. He had never questioned it.
—What is the nature of that sphere? Are there more spheres like ours? Something bigger than us? Have you never wondered that?
An uncomfortable silence formed among them. Even Mayron, always confident and haughty, seemed to bite his tongue.
—I think Eliza has a point —finally said Narel, with a more reflective tone—. Maybe it would be a brief investigation… a pastime of a few centuries. But at least it would be something different.
—Narel… —she said, looking him straight in the eyes—. What you call boredom, for someone like me, with a limited life… is called laziness.
Mayron held his breath. Veldora tensed his muscles, ready to leap. That wasn't just a breach of etiquette: it was a direct offense.
But Narel didn't get angry. He didn't raise his voice or show rage. On the contrary… he seemed illuminated by an unexpected thought.
—Do you believe, Your Highness, that there are still things to discover… that we simply stopped searching?
—I'm sure of it. In the Ether, there are wonders that not even you, with all your centuries, could comprehend. And here you are… whining because you already know the grain of sand in a desert.
That metaphor pierced him.
A grain of sand. An infinite desert. For the first time in centuries, Narel felt something. A spark. An impulse. That woman… that little mortal who spoke as if the world belonged to her… was more than a throne. She could be the only thing capable of breaking his curse of purposeless eternity.
Without thinking further, he knelt and took Elizabeth's hand.
—I've decided. You will be my wife.
Mayron looked at him as if his brain had melted.
—Prince Narel —he said, with an irritated tone—. Don't forget that we are all here for the same purpose.
—All? —responded Narel with an ambiguous smile—. A somewhat naive statement. For now, my goal is to take the princess to my kingdom. I will win the tournament. And then, Eliza and I will explore together… the Ether. Or whatever she wants.
Eliza blinked.
Had that not gone as expected? Had she annoyed him… or seduced him?
She suppressed the urge to bring her hand to her face. She only nodded with a diplomatic gesture.
—Princes… if you'll excuse me, I will retire to my chambers.
Both made a slight bow.
Mayron remained motionless, lost in his thoughts. He had planned to face Zarek and Dren. He hoped Narel would abandon the game out of boredom. He had even considered that Azrael and Zarek would annihilate each other. But he hadn't counted on this: a few simple words from that girl were altering his board. Maybe he could no longer treat her as a minor variable… but as a chaotic and unpredictable algorithm.
Elizabeth finally reached her room, but someone else was waiting for her. The elderly leader of the Council stood by the door, holding a small chest in his hands.
—Your Highness.
—Leader of the Council.
They both greeted each other with the measured formality of those who understand they are about to seal a pact with eternal consequences.
—Everything is ready —he said—. You only need to place these rings. The contract will be sealed. These are the conditions:
If you die, Sir Veldora will die with you.
Veldora will protect you above his own life.
If he dies, you will be safe, and the pact will break.
He cannot disobey you. If he does, he will suffer unimaginable pain.
If he betrays you, he will die.
If he reveals information about you to anyone, he will die.
If after three years the princes are still alive, both of you will die.
If you marry at the end of the process, a new pact will be created.
You cannot kill him, directly or indirectly, or the pact will kill you.
Elizabeth listened in silence, shocked by the harshness of the contract. It was cruel. Unfair. And yet… Veldora showed no reaction.
Calmly, he took the red stone ring and placed it on his finger. Elizabeth imitated him. Instantly, the parchment rose into the air and began to burn with a crimson flame. The rings disintegrated, turning into beams of light that flew to each one's chest.
—The contract has been sealed. From this moment, and until the day after your wedding, Sir Veldora will be your faithful knight.
The knight knelt solemnly and drew his sword, presenting it to her.
—I accept. I count on you, Sir Veldora.
—I will give my life for your cause, Your Highness.
The elder bowed his head.
—Now I must retire. I must prepare a birthday worthy of my queen… and a tournament worthy of this kingdom.
—I wish you success in your task, Leader of the Council —said Eliza with a serene bow, though her gaze remained fixed on Veldora.
The elder nodded and disappeared silently down the corridor, leaving behind a slight trail of magical incense that slowly faded.
Elizabeth turned to her new guardian. Sir Veldora remained motionless, like a statue of flesh, his expression neutral, his posture perfect.
—Now you and I are allies. I'm glad to count on you.
Veldora didn't blink.
—Do not be mistaken, princess. I am your knight, not your ally. My duty is not to accompany you, nor to be your friend. My duty is to be your shield and your sword. To give my life for you when necessary. Do not see me as a human being. I am a weapon. And a shield. I beg you to understand that.
Elizabeth didn't avert her gaze from his red eyes.
—Don't be mistaken, Sir Veldora. I don't need a mute sword or a shield without will. You will be my ally. My accomplice. Or whatever I order you to be. And when the time comes for your body to be my shield, I will trust that you will do it. But also that you will know how to stay alive. Not out of duty… but because I order you to.
A spark crossed Veldora's eyes. It was fleeting. But it was there.
—Yes, Your Highness. Whatever you order.
The silence that followed was thick as oil. Unnecessary. Uncomfortable. She bowed slightly, ceremoniously, and took her leave.
Already in her room, Elizabeth closed the door behind her. She removed her coat, let the silk gloves fall, and allowed herself, finally, to breathe freely.
—What else can go wrong today?
The room was dark, except for a few floating enchanted candles that slowly rotated on their axis. One of them, without warning, flared with a higher flame than the rest… and then turned black.
Eliza stepped back. The temperature dropped. A cold and damp air crept into the room as if the Ether itself had opened.
From the black flame emerged a female voice, broken, distant… almost familiar.
—I'm sorry… you must hurry… you must protect yourself from him… he found a way to… erase us… from your mind…
A crackling pierced her skull. She fell to her knees.
—Who?! —she whispered, feeling something being torn from her chest, like a root violently ripped out.
The voice moaned one last time:
—Forgive me… I will no longer be able to help you…
And then… silence.
The dizziness was immediate. The mental void, even worse. As if an entire part of herself had evaporated, like a file deleted from a forbidden library.
A memory. A life. An Elizabeth, gone forever.
—No… —she murmured— no… this is not part of the game
She pressed her hand to her chest. The blood ring no longer glowed. The warmth it once gave off had vanished—snuffed out like the voice that had warned her only seconds before.
This wasn't part of the prophecy.
This wasn't part of any memory.
This was something else.
Something new.
Her breathing quickened. Sweat clung cold to her temples as she stumbled toward the edge of her bed, trying to steady herself. Her body trembled—not with fear, but with the dawning understanding of what had just occurred.
She had lost a life.
Not metaphorically.
Not emotionally.
A real one. A full memory. An entire lifetime that had once been part of her essence was gone, torn away like paper set to flame.
She clenched the bedsheet in her fist.
"How many more will he take before I'm hollow?"