Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Earth | Evelyn's Apartment

Before Evelyn and Ethan left, she caught Auberon by the elbow, pulling him a few feet away from the front door so she could speak in a harsh, urgent whisper.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay here alone while we're at the cemetery?"

Auberon gave her a look of deeply offended pride.

"I am not an elfling, Evelyn!" he said, his deep voice carrying a sharp edge of annoyance. "I shall be fine."

He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture, though his silver eyes narrowed slightly as he looked toward the door where Ethan was waiting.

She left through the door, giving him a worried one last look before closing the apartment's door.

Auberon sighed in relief. He cherished quiet times like this back when he was suffocating with a king's responsibilities, but now he had to think about what he knew so far.

Left alone in the quiet apartment, the grand high elf finally allowed the stoic, impenetrable mask to slip just a fraction. He began to pace the length of the room, his long strides silent against the wooden floorboards as his mind raced through the puzzle pieces of his impossible exile.

First was the betrayal: Elden's cold, calculating face in the woods, the sudden bite of silver steel beneath his ribs, and the dark portals of secretive shadow magic tearing open behind his most trusted friend. Elden thought he had successfully buried the true king in the void, securing the White Spire and taking the throne. But Auberon knew that the bond of the throne could not be so easily silenced, and loyal commanders like Alden and Jeonran would never stop questioning the official lie.

Second was the terrifying realization of where he had landed. This realm—Earth—was a dead zone devoid of natural arcana, a graveyard of wild power where mortals lived among glass, steel, and machines. Yet, despite its lack of magic, it was not safe. The hunter on the ridge with his precise, high-caliber warning shot proved that someone, or some organization, was already tracking anomalous signatures. More critically, Evelyn's ancestral necklace—a sacred heirloom forged in the royal armories of House Vaelorian and tied to the bloodline of Lilian Oryndel, the Starlight Bearer—had flared into life when he used his magic.

That magical flash was a beacon. If Elden's shadow-stalkers had followed him across the veil, they wouldn't just be hunting a fallen king anymore; they would sense the blood of Oryndel and come for the last living Starlight Bearer.

He stopped pacing, his molten-lead eyes fixing on the empty doorway. He could not afford to drag Evelyn into this. He suddenly felt the urge to protect her as if she were one of his own people.

Back in Aundil, his duty was absolute: to shield every citizen of the high houses, to maintain the balance, and to stand as the ultimate bulwark against chaos. But here, stripped of his crown, his army, and his natural reserves of mana, that instinct felt entirely different. It was raw, fiercely personal, and directed entirely at the stubborn, sharp-witted librarian who had pulled him bleeding from the asphalt.

She carried the lost blood of House Oryndel in her veins, walking blindly through a world of steel and glass while deadly forces closed in around her. He would rather face the sharpest blades of House Sylvarin than let harm touch her in this fragile realm.

He crossed to the window, checking the latch out of old habit—a soldier's reflex more than a real expectation of danger—before drawing the curtain a fraction tighter against the street below. It would take more than a locked window to stop what might be hunting them, but the small ritual steadied him all the same.

Resolving to take matters into his own hands, Auberon knew he had to prepare for what came next. He'd already begun sketching a mental map of the city—old stone foundations, places where people might pray, anywhere that might still hold a whisper of the arcana this realm had long since forgotten. When Evelyn returned from honoring her parents, they would have to begin testing those sites for a stable nexus point—before the Vaeliths found them first.

Meanwhile, Evelyn and Ethan walked in Green-Wood Cemetery.

***

Earth | Green-Wood Cemetery

The gate creaked as Ethan pushed it open, the autumn wind pulling at the collar of Evelyn's jacket as they walked the familiar path between rows of weathered headstones.

Reaching their parents' graves, Evelyn felt that familiar ache tighten in her chest. They always said time makes it better—then why did it still hurt just as sharply after all this time? She stood frozen, just staring blankly at the cold tombstones. Ethan was busy clearing a spot on the stone bench where they were going to sit, before he finally noticed her stillness. Gently, he placed a hand on her shoulder.

Neither of them spoke. They didn't need to—ten years of the same walk had worn the silence smooth between them.

Evelyn knelt and brushed a few stray leaves from the base of the headstone. Laura & Richard Pierce. She didn't need to read the dates. She'd memorized them a long time ago—the way you memorize a wound.

They'd been driving back from a weekend upstate when it happened. Her mother had texted her that morning: home by morning, don't stay up late outside. Evelyn still had it saved. She'd never been able to delete it.

"I keep thinking if they'd never left that weekend," Ethan said quietly, staring at the stone rather than her. He didn't finish the sentence. He never did.

Evelyn reached out and squeezed his hand, the only answer either of them had ever found for that thought.

A gust of wind moved through the cemetery, rattling the bare branches overhead, and Evelyn's shoulders tensed before she could stop them. She glanced over her shoulder—rows of stone, a distant groundskeeper, nothing else. No unsettling stranger watching. Just her own nerves, stretched too thin after the ridge.

Still, she couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. She kept catching herself scanning the tree line at the edge of the grounds, almost as if she was nervous someone could have followed them after the ridge incident.

"You okay?" Ethan asked, following her gaze.

"Yeah," she lied, for what felt like the hundredth time that week. "Just cold."

They stayed until the light started to fade, Ethan telling old stories—their mother's terrible overprotective habits, their father's worse joke—and Evelyn laughing in the right places, though her mind kept drifting back to the apartment, to silver eyes and a chaos she hadn't asked to be part of.

When they finally rose to leave, she pressed her hand flat against the cold stone one last time.

I'm sorry I forgot, she thought. I promise I won't forget again.

In another world, Evelyn wasn't the only one carrying a heavy heart.

***

Aethyria | Jeonran Residence

Jeonran gripped Linrel tightly by the shoulders, his jaw set. "I need you to listen to me carefully," he started, his face grave, though his eyes softened immeasurably as they locked onto hers. "Stick to me like a shadow should anything happen to me. I shall guide you out into the light."

He held her fierce gaze a moment longer before continuing, his voice dropping to a low, grim rasp. "I will not leave you. But if things go wrong—if I fall—Alden will continue the journey with you."

They slipped out quietly into the amber-lit corridor, stepping past the heavy ward-stones just as the faint, terrifying hum of shadow magic rippled through the air outside.

Before their boots could even hit the cobblestones of the courtyard, the shadows twisted violently against the walls. A sleek, bladed bolt splintered the wooden doorframe inches from Jeonran's head. The Vaeliths had found them.

"Down!" Jeonran roared, shoving Linrel behind his back as three figures materialized from the darkness, their silver-and-steel armor silent against the night.

In a blur of lethal motion, Jeonran drew his longsword, the blade catching the moonlight with a sharp, blinding gleam just as the first assassin lunged. The attacker struck with a vicious downward arc meant to cleave straight through the collarbone, but Jeonran met the blow mid-air. The resulting clang sent a cascade of brilliant sparks showering over the flags. Without breaking momentum, Jeonran spun low, driving the heavy steel pommel of his sword into the assassin's ribs with a sickening crunch.

The second assailant closed in instantly, a pair of poisoned daggers flashing toward Jeonran's flank. Ducking inside the guard, Jeonran parried the left strike and countered with a swift, brutal kick to the chest, sending the second intruder crashing hard through a decorative stone urn.

"Keep moving!" Jeonran barked over the ringing of steel, his breath coming in ragged gasps as a third Vaelith materialized directly in their path.

Parrying a blinding flurry of thrusts, Jeonran forced the attacker back step-by-step, creating just enough clearance for Linrel to slip past the threshold. Seizing the opening, Jeonran drove his hilt hard into the final assassin's temple, dropping him instantly to the pavement.

Without wasting a single heartbeat, Jeonran grabbed Linrel's hand, pulling her hard against his side as they vanished into the winding alleyways of the lower capital.

***

Aethyria | Beyond Aundil's Outer Gates

After a grueling gauntlet through the winding, shadowed alleys, they finally breached the perimeter, slipping past the monolithic stone ramparts and out beyond Aundil's towering gates.

The immediate outskirts offered little comfort, swallowed by the deep, suffocating embrace of the wilderness. Alden was leaning casually against the thick trunk of an ancient, gnarled oak just off the trail, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. The surrounding woodland was shrouded in pitch-black gloom, broken only by the pale, ethereal glow of the twin moons filtering through a dense canopy of weeping branches. In the heavy stillness, the only sounds were the low, rhythmic chirps of nocturnal insects and the dry, rustling hiss of autumn leaves brushing against the forest floor.

As the muffled crunch of footsteps broke the quiet, Alden straightened up instantly, his posture shifting from relaxed to hyper-vigilant. He let out a long, ragged sigh of pure relief as he recognized the two figures emerging from the dark.

"I was worried sick," Alden muttered, shaking his head as he stepped forward. "I told you I should have gone with you from the start."

Jeonran huffed, his hand still resting defensively near the pommel of his blood-stained blade as his chest heaved with lingering adrenaline. "I told you I was more than capable."

Alden offered a tight, solemn nod, inclining his head in deep respect as his gaze shifted past the commander. "Your Highness," he murmured softly.

Linrel nodded back at him. "You both risked your lives for me, I will never forget that. Please take care of yourselves too."

Alden offered a reassuring, albeit grim, smile, adjusting the strap of his pack as he scanned the treeline. "Our lives are sworn to the crown, Your Highness, but we intend to keep them a while longer."

Jeonran stepped up beside Linrel, his hazel eyes hardening as he cast one last glance back toward the imposing, dark silhouette of Aundil's distant spires. The High Council's net was cast wide, but out here beneath the sprawling canopy of the borderlands, they finally had room to breathe—and to fight back.

"The horses are tethered a quarter-mile down the trail," Jeonran said, his voice low and steady. "We ride for the borderlands before dawn breaks. Stay close, and keep your hoods drawn."

They walked side by side down the narrow, overgrown path, the towering pines swaying above them like ancient sentinels. In the quiet solitude of the forest, Linrel felt the steadfast, protective presence of her brother lingering through these two men, and a profound wave of gratitude washed over her aching chest.

When they finally reached a small, hidden clearing where the horses were tethered, the animals let out soft, low nickers in the cool night air. Alden immediately moved to untie one of the mounts, while Jeonran stepped closer to Linrel, offering a steady, gloved hand to help her up into the saddle.

As she settled onto the horse, Jeonran swung up gracefully behind her, his broad chest brushing against her back. The sudden, lingering warmth of his close proximity cut sharply through the chill of the night, grounding them both as they prepared for the long ride ahead.

Linrel's tears finally fell down her cheeks, crying softly. She finally felt the absolute absence of Auberon's protective shield, realizing that if it were not for these two men, she would already be dead.

Sensing the sudden shiver rack her frame, Jeonran leaned slightly over her, his breath warm against her ear as he whispered, "It is okay, Princess. I have got you."

Meanwhile, back in Brooklyn, night had fallen.

***

Earth | Evelyn's Apartment

Evelyn returned late, pushing open her apartment door with a heavy sigh, bone-tired from the long day. She stepped inside, kicking off her shoes in the dim entryway.

She paused for a moment in the dark, her eyes drifting to the small framed photo resting on the entryway table. In it, her family was smiling, so bright and whole. Her throat tightened instantly. She hadn't been able to bring herself to look at it in weeks.

The apartment was eerily quiet and shrouded in shadow, save for the pale, silver glow of the streetlight spilling through the living room window.

There he was, lying stretched out on the sofa, resting one heavy arm over his forehead with his eyes closed. Moving on silent feet, Evelyn walked quietly until she was standing right next to the sofa. She looked down and watched him—really watched him—taking in every sharp angle and aristocratic detail of his face against the dark cushions.

"Are you done admiring me?" he murmured, his voice low and rich in the quiet room, making her jump.

Evelyn caught her breath, her hand flying to her chest. "You're awake."

Auberon lowered his arm, his striking silver-and-steel eyes opening to fix upon her in the dim light. Even lounging casually on the worn fabric of the sofa, his breathtaking, high-elven features were impossible to ignore—from the sharp, aristocratic cut of his jawline to the high cheekbones and the sweep of pale hair framing a face carved with effortless, striking perfection. He didn't move from his prone position, though a slow, knowing smirk touched the corner of his lips. "It is difficult to fall into a proper rest," he murmured smoothly, "when you are standing over me like a hawk, dissecting every line of my face."

Evelyn dropped her keys onto the counter with a sharp clatter, her cheeks instantly flushing hot in the dark as she crossed her arms and glared down at him. "I was checking to make sure you weren't bleeding out from your 'minor' wounds, thank you very much. Not admiring you."

Auberon let out a low, rich chuckle, pushing himself up to a sitting position. His broad shoulders shifted beneath the borrowed cotton hoodie, the sharp, restless energy of Aethyria clinging to him like a second skin in the mundane quiet of the apartment.

"Of course not," he teased, those brilliant, strikingly pale eyes glinting with amusement as they locked onto hers. "My apologies for interrupting your clinical inspection."