Author's Preface
Earth | Evelyn's Apartment
Evelyn stared at him, setting her mug down on the counter with a sharp clink. "You're kidding?" she repeated, her voice pitching up slightly. "You want us to go back? Just like that? 'Hey Evelyn, let's stroll back out into the middle of the haunted woods where a guy in shadow armor nearly died, so you can check if your magical glowing necklace left a forwarding address'?"
Auberon didn't blink, his silver eyes unyielding even as he pressed a hand slightly against his bandaged ribs.
"Elden wanted me dead," Auberon said, though a flash of pain appeared on his handsome face. "Surely he would not stop if he thinks I am still alive. It is better to check it out than sitting here knowing nothing."
The weight of his words hung heavily in the cramped, warm apartment, instantly cutting through any lingering absurdity of the morning.
What if something else is there? Evelyn's thoughts battled. He said my necklace was like a beacon. It's insane to go back there knowing nothing about what could be waiting. Yet if whatever portal brought him here was opened, he might get back through it.
She let out a long, exhausted sigh, then looked at him — really looked at him — standing in oversized sweatpants, looking every bit the displaced monarch yet radiating a stubborn, lethal determination.
"Every moment I linger in this void brings Sylvarin closer to total control of the White Spire," Auberon added quietly, closing the distance between them with a fluid, silent grace. "And if my survival has already registered with the Starlight Bearer's crest... your sanctuary here is no longer safe either, Evelyn."
Evelyn's breath hitched. Her hand went to the necklace resting on her collarbone. She touched it and thought of her quiet, predictable life as a librarian, of her cozy apartment, unease crawling in her chest as she looked up into those intense, silver-glowing eyes, knowing full well that her world had changed irrevocably the moment she swerved her car into the rain.
Her eyes swept around her apartment. She thought of her brother, of everything that once mattered here. Hesitation now would change nothing — her life was already different.
"Fine," she muttered, marching past him to grab her car keys off the hook by the door. "We'll go back. But if we run into any more interdimensional assassins, I am letting you handle them."
A faint, appreciative ghost of a smile touched the corner of Auberon's lips. "A fair bargain, Evelyn."
Far beyond Earth's time and space, the search for a lost king continued.
Aethyria | Outside Aundil's Capital
Jeonran had been indulging Alden in whatever he was doing for hours now. The cold night air was growing biting, and the strain on his friend was becoming impossible to ignore. Jeonran stepped forward, finally stopping him.
"Alden... please stop. You are hurting yourself," Jeonran urged, his voice heavy with worry. "Auberon would not want you—"
Alden turned sharply to look at his friend. Blood was sluggishly trailing from his nose and pooling at the corner of his mouth, his chest heaving with ragged, agonizing breaths. Yet his eyes burned with fierce, unyielding denial.
"I refuse to believe that! I refuse to believe it. How could he? How could he, Jeonran?" Alden choked out, the raw pain tearing at his vocal cords.
Jeonran closed his eyes in anguish, hating the helplessness of the situation. "Maybe we should focus on protecting the princess for now."
The fight finally drained out of Alden. His legs gave out beneath him, and he collapsed onto the damp earth, staring blankly up at the swirling auroral mana in the sky before squeezing his eyes shut from sheer, crushing exhaustion. He had pushed himself far past the edge, abusing his inner reserves until the immense weight of his strained mana began breaking down his physical body.
The White Spire of Vaelor
Inside the grand, vaulted hall, the air was thick with the scent of burning shadow-incense and heavy purple drapes.
Elden sat upon Auberon's throne, his angular face carefully arranged into the perfect mask of profound sorrow. Below him, the court nobles stood in hushed, intimidated silence.
Let them mourn him, Elden thought, watching the nobles bow their heads. A funeral makes it final. No false hope, and the sister will be too weak to resist. Once the people bury their beloved king, they will have no choice but to accept a new one.
A tiny doubt sat at the back of his mind. He'd stabbed Auberon with the dagger of a thousand deaths — a blade known to kill an ordinary elf instantly. But would it work on a Vaelorian king? And that damned portal had torn open at the worst possible moment. He brushed the thought aside.
"Tomorrow, we hold the grand state funeral," Elden's smooth, resonant voice echoed off the towering marble pillars. "Prepare the rituals. We are bidding a final farewell to our beloved ruler."
The court nobles bowed low, their whispered panicked murmurs filling the hall like a swarm of locusts as Elden stepped down from the High Seat.
Behind the heavy velvet drapes near the Maiden's Tower, two royal guards stood guard over Princess Linrel's locked quarters. Through the narrow iron lattice of her window, Linrel watched the court disperse. Her emerald eyes burned with cold, quiet fury as she pressed her forehead against the icy marble wall.
"A funeral..." she whispered, her voice trembling not with weakness, but with a dangerous, rising fire. "You dare throw a funeral for a king you betrayed."
Suddenly, the heavy shadow behind her room's door shifted. A faint, barely audible tap echoed against the exterior window ledge — three quick taps, followed by two slow ones.
Linrel's breath hitched. The Vaelorian signal.
She rushed to the high balcony window and looked down. Shadows stretched long across the outer walls, but deep within the gloom of the courtyard, a figure in silver-and-steel armor melted into the mist, slipping past the Vanguard patrols undetected.
Jeonran.
Linrel gripped the iron bars, a small, fierce smile cutting through her sorrow. Elden might hold the throne and control the court, but he didn't own the true heart of Aundil. The game was far from over.
Hope was rekindling in Aethyria. On Earth, Auberon and Evelyn were making their own preparations.
Earth | Evelyn's Apartment
Evelyn Pierce
Evelyn stared at Auberon, her gaze drifting upward before she could stop herself. She looked at Auberon's ears — they were not like any human ears, tapering into a sharp, elegant point, and they were adorned with high-value jewels that caught the warm light of the room. Without thinking, drawn by a sudden, irresistible impulse of sheer curiosity, she reached out her hand and tried to touch one.
Her fingertips barely brushed the smooth, cool skin of his earlobe before Auberon's hand shot out, catching her wrist with lightning-fast reflexes.
The air between them instantly went taut. His silver eyes snapped down to her hand, then tracked slowly up to meet her startled gaze, dark and unyielding.
"Do you make a habit of touching foreign royalty without permission?" Auberon asked, his deep voice dropping an octave, though there was no real heat in his grip — only a quiet, intense awareness.
Evelyn swallowed hard, her pulse hammering against her ribs as she looked up into those striking silver eyes, acutely aware of just how close he was standing. She cleared her throat, forcing as much nonchalant defiance into her voice as she could muster.
"Sorry," she muttered, not pulling away quite yet. "It's just... they're completely ridiculous. In a very fancy, highly impractical kind of way."
Auberon's gaze lingered on her face for a long, breathless second before he slowly released her wrist, a faint, dry smirk touching the corner of his lips.
"They are marks of House Vaelorian heritage," he replied smoothly, lifting his chin just a fraction. "Not playthings for curious librarians."
She raised an eyebrow. "Anyway, your ears are eye-catching," she murmured, before pulling an oversized hoodie from her brother's college days out from the closet.
"Wear this," she said, tossing it toward him. "We can't go out like this — you will draw unnecessary attention."
Auberon caught the soft, thick garment effortlessly with his good hand, his dark eyes looking down at the college emblem stamped across the fabric with profound, aristocratic skepticism.
"More mortal garments," he sighed, though a subtle, amused spark lingered in his gaze as he pulled the gray fabric over his head, hiding the high-value jewels and the sharp, pointed tips of his ears beneath the shadow of the hood.
"Come on," Evelyn said, grabbing her car keys and heading for the front door. "If we're going back there, we need to leave before my neighbors decide to start their morning gossip."
Meanwhile, in Aethyria, night fell beneath a blanket of stars.
Aethyria | Elden's Royal Residence
Elden Sylvarin
Elden paced restlessly across his vast bedchambers. Out on the open terrace, moonlight spilled over the cascading waterfall, making the rushing water look like sheets of pure white silver.
A silent disturbance caught his sharp elven ears. A hooded figure dropped lightly onto the stone terrace, and Elden whipped around, his pacing halting instantly.
"Took you long enough," Elden said, his voice sharp with annoyance.
The hooded figure shifted, the dark fabric rustling against the cold night wind. "Auberon's death?" the figure asked, its voice flat and menacing.
"I told you I would take care of it," Elden hissed defensively.
"Did you see him die?" the figure demanded coldly.
"I lost him to the rift. A portal tore open, and he fell right through it. He must be dead — no one has ever come back from such a thing."
In a fraction of a second, the hooded figure moved like lightning. Before Elden could react, a gloved hand seized him by the neck and slammed him hard against the stone wall, the impact rattling his breath away.
"The only reason you are taking the throne is because my master wants to wipe the entire Vaelorian bloodline from existence, not because you are someone special enough to ascend," the figure whispered, pressing the choke tighter. "So I will ask you again. Is Auberon deceased?"
Gasping for air, his eyes wide with sudden terror, Elden choked out, "He is... the funeral is tomorrow."
The moonlight caught the lower half of the hooded figure's face, where a cruel smile spread. "I will be back, Elden."