The world was a lie of brilliant green and gold, a sun-drenched meadow alive with the buzz of insects and the gentle sway of wildflowers. But the light didn’t reach the pit of my stomach, where a stone of dread had settled, cold and heavy. It was a dissonant, terrifying note in a symphony of peace, a promise of the violence that was racing toward us. Focus, Thalia, I commanded myself, my heart hammering against my ribs. There is always a way out.

My gaze snagged on the deep, inscrutable shadows of the forest fringing the meadow. “Cassius,” I said, my voice tight, “I’m checking the tree line.”

He didn’t look at me, his attention fixed on some distant point, but his response was immediate and absolute. “I’m not letting you go alone.”

The lush grass drank the sound of our footsteps as we moved toward the woods. At the edge of the trees, a cool, earthy scent replaced the sweet perfume of the meadow. I crouched, scanning the undergrowth for anything—a broken twig, a disturbed patch of moss—that felt out of place. My fingers brushed away damp soil, tracing the whorls of bark on a fallen branch before I let it rest. Nothing.

Cassius stood statue-still, his focus unwavering. “What is it?” I whispered, rising to my feet.

“The birds,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. “They’ve gone silent. The creatures are close.” He finally turned to me, his eyes grim. “Our best chance is in the open. We stay in the meadow.”

“I agree,” I breathed, falling into step beside him. We moved back toward the center of the clearing, and I allowed myself a moment of reprieve. “The medicine you made works wonders, Cassius. The pain is almost gone. Thank you.”

He paused, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “I’m just glad you’re not suffering.” He hesitated, then added, “If anything, I am the one who owes you thanks.” With that, he turned away, wading deeper into the sea of flowers, his gaze sweeping the horizon.

The floral perfume was a physical presence, so thick I could feel it clinging to my clothes and hair. As I breathed it in, a strange, low thrumming began against my ribs, a hum that resonated deep within my bones. It was a quiet, intimate song, violently interrupted by a shriek that tore through the air, so sharp and dissonant it felt like the world was ripping at the seams. My head snapped toward the forest.

“They aren’t here yet,” I said, adrenaline a fire in my veins. “We need to move faster.”

“Agreed,” he replied, his calm a stark contrast to my racing pulse. “Move a dozen paces to my right. We keep looking.”

I obeyed, and as I moved, the internal humming returned, no longer a gentle vibration but a powerful current surging through me. It was a call, a pull, drawing me toward something unseen. We scanned the vibrant meadow, a desperate search for anything out of place.

“Cassius,” I whispered, forcing myself to stop. “I can’t ignore this.”

He was at my side in an instant, his brow furrowed. “Are you alright? Is it the wound?”

“I think so,” I began, trying to find the words. “But there’s a feeling… getting stronger. It’s like a song pitched just for me. It isn’t mana… it’s something else.”

A slow, knowing smile spread across his face. “That is the song of this place, Thalia. The elven magic that sleeps in the soil. It’s calling to you because its echo runs in your veins.” He took a deliberate step, his gaze piercing the distance. “It means we are close.”

Hope surged through me as I fell into step beside him. “Do you know what we’re looking for?”

“No,” he admitted. “Whatever hides the city wasn’t here in my time. But I know we will recognize it.”

As if his words were a key turning in a lock, a cacophony of shrieks erupted from the tree line. The buzz of insects, the whisper of the wind—it all vanished, smothered under a blanket of sudden, oppressive silence. In that vacuum, the sound of Cassius’s sword being drawn from its sheath was unnaturally loud, a sharp, metallic ring of defiance.

“We aren’t going to make it,” I breathed, my hand trembling.

“No,” he agreed, his voice a blade in the stillness. “Behind me. Now.”

“I may be injured,” I retorted, forcing the tremor from my voice, “but I am not helpless.”

Before he could argue, they poured from the shadows. Four nightmare creatures of fluid darkness and sharpened bone—Shadoviels. And with them, a fifth. It was immense, towering over Cassius, its form a roiling mass of darkness that seemed to drink the light around it. The leader.

Shadowy tendrils lashed out, but Cassius became a vortex of steel and controlled fury. He met the assault head-on, his blade a silver blur that severed the appendages, which dissolved into smoke. Another tendril shot like a spear toward his heart, but he moved with impossible grace, sidestepping as his own sword sheared the creature in two.

Rushing to his flank, I gathered my power and unleashed a bolt of raw, lavender-pink energy at the nearest Shadowviel. It vanished with a silent, implosive flash. The massive leader let out a piercing screech of fury, and its remaining servants grew frenzied, their attacks becoming wild and unpredictable.

Weaving through the chaos, Cassius dispatched another with a single, elegant upward strike. I held my power in check, my hands clenched into fists. I couldn’t risk hitting him with a stray blast; his focus was absolute, a deadly dance I dared not interrupt.

My gaze shifted to the towering creature. It remained still, observing Cassius not with animal hunger, but with a chilling, tactical intelligence. It wasn’t just fighting; it was dissecting his movements, learning his rhythm.

While Cassius engaged the last two minions, I saw my opening. I gathered my will and sent a searing blast of mana straight at the leader. The bolt flew true, but inches from its target, it simply fizzled into nothing. A heartbeat later, the world went cold as the creature reappeared directly in front of me.

I threw up a mana shield an instant before its tendrils slammed into the barrier, the impacts jarring me to the bone. How can I fight if all my energy goes to this shield? Stumbling back, I made a desperate, foolish gambit. For a fraction of a second, I dropped the barrier, fired a piercing spear of condensed mana, and snapped the shield back into place. A hit! The spear skewered a shadowy limb, eliciting another soul-rending shriek.

Its assault became relentless, and spiderweb cracks of strained light spread across my shield. My mana was failing. Suddenly, it spun with unnatural speed. Cassius, his other foes vanquished, had tried to ambush it from behind. It had sensed him.

Its attention was diverted. Now! I poured the last of my will not into a blast, but into a single, crystalline thought: a blade of judgment, forged of pure energy, striking down from the heavens. The greatsword of incandescent light formed above the Shadoviel. The creature looked up, its eyeless face showing what could only be surprise, but it was too late. As Cassius leaped clear, the sword fell, cleaving the massive creature cleanly in two.

My breathing came in ragged gasps. The silence that returned to the meadow was profound. “I think… that’s all of them,” I managed.

In a blur, Cassius was at my side, his gaze locked on my shoulder. “You reopened your wound.” His voice was tight with a fear he hadn’t shown in the heat of battle.

“No,” I insisted, lifting my uninjured arm. “See? Still have a good one.”

“That was reckless, Thalia.” He stared at the fresh, crimson blossoms staining my bandage. “It was studying me. I’ve never seen one do that. Who knows what it was capable of?”

“Exactly,” I retorted. “Which is why it had to be stopped.”

He let out a long, shuddering sigh, the tension finally leaving his powerful frame. “I’m just glad you’re safe,” he said softly. “I doubt we’ll see more of them. Not for a while.”

“Good,” I breathed, turning my focus back to the sprawling meadow. “Then let’s find Aelindoria.”

He gave a solemn nod. The hours bled into one another as we resumed our search. The sun began its descent, painting the sky in fiery hues of orange and rose. By now, the hum was no longer a subtle vibration; it was a resonant symphony that vibrated in my bones, a constant, powerful thrum that made it difficult to think.

“Where is this entrance?” I muttered, my patience worn to a thread. I took another frustrated step, and my boot struck something unyielding with a sharp thud. Not dirt, not rock, but smooth, carved stone. Almost completely swallowed by a century of overgrowth, it was a flagstone. “Cassius!” I yelled. “I found it!”

He rushed to my side and knelt, his touch gentle, almost reverent, as he brushed away the grass. His fingers traced faint, elegant carvings. “It’s Old Elven,” he breathed, a note of awe in his voice. He looked up at me, then back to the stone, and spoke two words, clear and resonant in the twilight air: “Shniela triasdrea.”

The words hung in the air, imbued with an ancient power. A tangible magic began to swirl around us, a gentle whirlwind of unseen energy that made my hair stand on end. Then, as suddenly as it began, it ceased. The air before us did not just shimmer; it warped, twisting like heated glass. Through that shimmering veil, a city woven from moonlight and living crystal appeared, its towers piercing the twilight, a breathtaking vision of impossible beauty.

Aelindoria.