The grit of the training yard clung to my skin, a second layer of sweat-soaked dust. Opposite me, Cassius sat with the quiet stillness of a coiled predator, his breathing even despite our spar. Between us, resting in my palm, the small, cool sphere began to pulse, casting a soft, ethereal glow on our weary faces. From that light, Amelia’s shimmering form bloomed into existence—a miniature, hauntingly detailed projection suspended in the air.

Cassius leaned forward, his eyes fixed on the apparition. “Hello, Amelia,” we said in unison, though my voice was a breathy exhalation and his a low murmur.

“Thalia. Cassius,” her voice echoed from the sphere, crisp and impossibly clear. “I’m glad I reached you. Is everything alright?”

“We’re in Aelindoria, but the elves are gone.”

“Gone?” A flicker of concern crossed her translucent features. “Where?”

“We don’t know,” Cassius answered, his tone grim. “There are no bodies, no signs of a struggle. Just… emptiness. It was planned. They left willingly.”

“How curious,” Amelia mused, her brow furrowing. “And the curse?”

I met Cassius’s gaze, a silent, bitter disappointment passing between us. “Nothing.”

“Then I’m afraid your search is over, for now,” she stated. Her tone shifted, shedding its inquisitive warmth and taking on the hard edge of command.

A familiar dread coiled in my gut. “What’s wrong, Amelia?”

“You must return to the palace. Immediately. Wrap up your affairs and be back within the hour. It’s Dolion’s birthday celebration. No one can know you were ever gone.”

Bile rose in my throat. A party for him. 

As if sensing my revulsion through the miles, Amelia’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “There’s more, Thalia. They are announcing him as the new crown prince tonight.”

The world seemed to tilt. My mind scrambled, clawing for an excuse, an escape, but I knew there was none. No one at court would risk the new heir’s displeasure to curry favor with the forgotten princess. Yet, beneath the panic, a single, defiant ember sparked to life. “Perhaps,” I said, my voice dangerously low, “an unexpected opportunity will present itself.”

“Perhaps,” Amelia murmured, a flicker of understanding in her eyes. She turned her gaze to Cassius. “You will need to stay behind. She must face this alone. Your presence would draw too much unwanted attention.”

Cassius gave a firm, sharp nod. “I agree. I have no desire to partake in their festivities anyway. I will remain in my chambers.”

“It is decided then,” Amelia concluded, her voice softening as her eyes found me again. “Thalia?”

“Yes?” I answered, my focus still lost in the heavy air where her command hung.

“I see the sword resting beside you. How was your training?”

A genuine, fleeting smile touched my lips, a brief respite from the encroaching storm. “I enjoyed it. My only regret is that I didn’t begin sooner.”

“Good,” she said, a hint of pride in her tone. “I must finish preparing. I will see you within the hour, and we can speak more then.”

“We’ll see you then,” we said together.

“Goodbye.” With a final, shimmering pulse, the sphere went dark. The silence that rushed in felt heavier than before, suffocating me with the weight of what was to come.

What am I walking into? The thought was a venomous snake in my stomach. My hands clenched, nails digging into my palms. Be the aimless, vapid princess. The girl they all remember. Do not let them see you. Do not lose your composure.

“Thalia.” Cassius’s calm voice sliced through the spiraling chaos in my head. “You’re doing it again.”

I knew instantly—the furrowed brow, the hard set of my jaw. With a conscious effort, I smoothed the tension from my face, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. “Thanks, Cassius.”

He shrugged, but the kindness in his eyes was a balm to my frayed nerves. “I didn’t do anything. It will be alright. Whatever happens, whatever they say… pay them no mind.”

“I won’t,” I vowed, my voice low but firm. “Their opinions are irrelevant. Let them think I’m nothing more than the silly, disgraced princess.” My gaze drifted to the new, reassuring weight of the sword lying beside me.

“We should check the armoury for a sheath before we go,” Cassius said, echoing my thought.

I nodded, pushing myself to my feet and brushing the dust from my trousers. The heavy wooden door to the storage room groaned in protest as I pulled it open, revealing a cool, dark space. My eyes landed on a small, dust-covered crate in the corner. Prying the lid open, I found it filled with forgotten sheaths and scraps of leather.

As my fingers sorted through the contents, the sharp ring of metal on metal made me glance over. Cassius was carefully returning his practice sword to its rack on the wall where it should have been. I turned back and selected a simple, sturdy-looking sheath.

“You’re not keeping yours?” I asked.

“No,” he replied, his voice soft in the resonant quiet. “I have the one you gifted me. I only used this one so our blades would be evenly matched.”

A warmth bloomed in my chest, a fierce and sudden gladness that he treasured my gift. I gave a simple nod, not trusting my voice, and began the awkward process of strapping the sheath to my body. I angled it across my back, positioning the hilt over my right shoulder, but my fingers fumbled with the final clasp.

“Here.” Cassius’s voice was close, right behind me. “Let me.”

I held the strap taut as his deft fingers moved to secure the buckle. His presence was a solid, grounding warmth. “There. That should hold.”

I slid the sword in place. The whisper of steel against leather was a satisfying sound, settling snug and secure.

“How does it feel?” he asked, stepping back.

“Different,” I admitted, shifting my shoulders to accommodate the unfamiliar weight. “But not bad. It feels… purposeful.”

“You’ll get used to it,” he assured me. “When you have a moment, practice your draw. It needs to feel like an extension of your arm.”

“I will,” I promised, my hand resting on the hilt. “I can’t let my teacher down.”

“Thalia,” Cassius began, his voice soft with concern, but I turned to face him, my own voice tight with resolve.

“I have to get stronger, Cassius. The three coin holders may be the key, but I refuse to be a liability. I need to be able to protect myself, to protect those I care about.

“And you will,” he said, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “You have a fire in you, Thalia. You learn faster than anyone I’ve ever known. You are already stronger than you think.”

His words soothed the frantic edge of my thoughts. We pulled the heavy storage door shut, the bolt sliding home with a definitive thud. Stepping from the shadows of the armoury, the unfiltered daylight hit us, and I squinted against the sudden glare.

“We need to go,” I said, the urgency a sharp spur. “From this moment on, everything changes.”

“Okay,” Cassius said, his gaze steady on mine as he stepped closer, a solid anchor in the swirling chaos of my mind. “I am with you, Thalia. Ready to follow wherever you lead.”

A small, genuine smile found its way to my lips. No matter what I was walking into, I wouldn’t be truly alone. I held that feeling close, a shield against the coming storm, and pictured the quiet sanctuary of my room.

Closing my eyes, I drew on my mana, pulling the familiar energy from my core. I pictured my chambers. I pulled that image from my mind and ripped it into the world. A shimmering, lavander-pink portal tore a wound in the air before us.

Cassius held out his hand, an unspoken offer of strength. I took it without hesitation, my fingers intertwining with his. His grip was warm and steady, a stark, living contrast to the thrumming, otherworldly energy of the portal. I looked up at him, and he offered a calm, unwavering smile that settled the last of my trembling nerves.

“Let’s go,” he said.

Together, we stepped through. The world dissolved into a breathtaking maelstrom of color and light. Then, just as suddenly, it stilled. The chaotic swirl vanished, replaced by the familiar comfort of my chambers. 

I sagged with relief, my shoulders slumping as I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. His hand was still in mine, a solid, grounding presence in the quiet of the room.

“We made it,” I whispered.