(The kingdom of Elarion) The great bell of Elarion tolled.
It’s deep, brass resonance rolled across the courtyard.
By the time the final chime echoed into the evening air, Princess Elira Velkrest was already gone.
The illegitimate princess who wasn’t supposed to exist, but well, she’s existing now.
Her heart hammered against her ribs as she slipped through the narrow servant’s passage, silk traded for rough linen, her crown traded for freedom.
If the perimeter guards caught her tonight, they wouldn’t be merciful.
Not this time.
But the danger paled against the sudden desperate pull in her chest.
She had to see him.
She exhaled and let the cold air bite her face.
She looked up at the towering facade of the Ivory crown.
Her chamber was tucked in the quieter quarters of the palace.
Not quite hidden, but not important enough to be noticed.
That was her life in the ‘Ivory Crown.’ Her entire existence has been within this walls.
Her quarters was modest by royal standards, but the luxury was nothing but a faded beauty.
A neatly made bed with soft but simple linens lay at the end of the room.
A vanity with slightly tarnished mirrors.
Curtains that were once rich velvet, now bleached pale by time.
No grand chandeliers.
Just a smaller hanging lamp.
No gold decorations.
Only traces of what used to be.
It wasn’t neglect that anyone would openly admit to.
But it was enough to remind her every single day that she did not belong the way she should.
Perhaps, her entire existence was a facade.
A single window overlooked part of the gardens.
The “veil of the garden,” as they called it.
Every dawn, she sat at the stone benches beneath tall flowering trees, where petals fell like slow rain.
She watched the fountains carved from marble, their waters always flowing, always calm.
Elira bent down and picked one of the flower petals, inhaling deeply, pretending it was a rose.
And then, she smiled.
The perfectly trimmed hedges formed winding paths like a maze.
Her usual route when trying to feel peace.
White roses bloomed in abundance ; the symbol of the royal bloodline.
But their beauty felt too precise and too controlled.
Just like her.
She closed her eyes.
The bitterness clung to her tongue.
She was eight when everything changed.
Life in Herbendnez hadn’t been great, but it had been honest.
She played with kids her age.
Slept wrapped in the warmth of her mother’s arms.
Watched herself in the mirror as her mother brushed her natural honey brown hair, long hair that cascaded down to her waist.
But one evening, one fateful evening.
She couldn’t forget.
She had came home to soldiers of Elarion surrounding their house.
Banners of Elarion raised high within the environment.
First Elira was Afraid.
Then wonder.
Inside, her mother lay weeping on the floor.
And standing over her was a man in royal clothes.
A crown rested on his head.
He turned toward her and their eyes met.
He slowly walked over and crouched down.
He cupped her face.
His hands were cold and rough.
But a bit gentle on her jaw.
“She has my eyes,” he said, and gave her a soft smile.
“Who are you?” Elira whispered.
The man bore a striking resemblance to her.
A strange connection pulled between them.
It was distant but sharp.
“I am Budegha Velkrest,” he said.
“Ruler of the kingdom of Elarion.
And I am your father.” Her eyes fluttered.
Then it widened in realization.
“Papa” she whispered.
She turned to her mother.
Trying to get a nod of confirmation at least.
But his hand stopped her, holding her cheeks a little tighter to keep her in place.
“I came to take you home,” he said.
“To a place you belong.
A place beside your father.” “Do you want to take me away from mama?” The king’s chest tightened.
A shadow of irritation flickering across his features as he cast a cold glance at Jellah.
He had intended to leave the mother behind.
Yet the wide, innocent eyes of his child stayed his cruelest impulse.
“If mama is coming with me, then I will go,” Elira said.
Silence fell over them.
He wasn’t surprised.
After all, Jellah had been the one raising her.
But he was unwilling.
Budegha stared down at the little girl who seemed to possess his own stubborn steel and decided not to be cruel.
“Very well he said rising to his full height and addressing Jellah without looking at her.
“You will come.
But, only for her.
Cause the slightest trouble, and I will show no mercy.” He turned toward the doorway, pausing only briefly.
“The carriage is waiting.
The guards will bring your belongings.” He didn’t look back as he stormed out.
Jellah had scooped Elira into her arms, taking one last, heartbroken look at the only home they had only known until a soldier’s rough voice cut through the moment, “Move!” He ordered.
And slowly, she did.
It took a full day’s journey to travel from the borders of Herbendnez to the capital of Elarion—the famed “Ivory Crown.” When they finally reached the grand gates and the royal heralds announced the king’s return.
Elira poked her head from the carriage window and forgot how to breathe.
From afar, the palace looked almost unreal.
It looked like a fairytale carved out of the clouds.
But as they crossed the drawbridge, its formidable reality took shape.
The high walls were built from pale, polished stones that caught the sun, glowing soft ivory at dawn, and fiery gold at sunset.
Tall, soaring spires stretched into the sky, each tipped with silver that gleamed even under moonlight.
Banners of deep royal blue and muted gold hung from the towers, fluttering in slow, deliberate uniform rhythm.
Always controlled.
Just like the kingdom itself.
High outer walls encircled the inner city, patrolled by rows of armed sentinels standing watch from watch towers.
It was a sight to behold.
Beyond the outer courtyard stood massive, iron-bound doors absolute and unwelcoming.
That wasn’t just a home.
It was protection.
Power.
And mostly, a cage.
Inside, vast marble halls stretched on endlessly.
Their surface polished so fine they mirrored every shadow like still water.
Columns of white and gold rose high, etched with delicate carvings of past rulers and victories long forgotten.
Every footstep echoed.
They were soft.
But never unnoticed.
Above, crystal chandeliers hung like trapped constellations, casting warm golden light across the hallways.
At night when they were fully lit, the palace glowed as though it held its own sky within.
But after all the beauty it held, the palace still felt distant and cold.
Elira thought life would be fair in the palace.
She thought that time would bring warmth.
She was wrong.
Now she was 18.
She was more alone than ever.
Her mother had vanished without a trace, leaving Elira to wonder every night whether she was dead or alive.
The king; her father.
Two months since she last saw him.
She was kept confined to her quiet wing.
Her meals were brought to her chamber.
Two servants were positioned to always take care of her, as if she were a forbidden oracle that wasn’t to be mentioned or seen.
Even the queen had given orders: not to let her near the valued wing.” Thinking of it all, a single tear dropped from her eyes, catching the dim moonlight before falling onto the dirt.
But tears had changed nothing.
So she straightened her back, wiped her face, and forced the phantom ache of the past away.
It was not the ghost of yesterday that called her into the night.
It was him.
She had missed him.
Two agonizing weeks has passed since she last saw his face.
And tonight, she was going to see him again.
For three months, she had risked everything.
Sneaking past the eagle-eyed sentinels of the outer guard just to steal a few hours with him.
Because he was worth every danger.
The bell rang again.
The call of the arriving evening.
Elira turned and ran.
By the time she reached the outer gardens, Princess Elira Velkrest was gone.
In her place was just a girl in commoner’s clothes.
Brown hair hidden under a hood.
Heart full of nothing but him.
If they caught her, it was treason.
If they didn’t… for a few hours, she wouldn’t be a princess.
She would just be Elira.
And she was already running toward that familiar route in the maze, toward the place beyond the palace walls, where she knew he was waiting for her.
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